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peterjackson[Takes place after Dave wakes up from this dream.]
(and NO it's not NC17. *shudders at the very thought*)
Dave: So, I told myself in a dream I'd go see Pete today and see if I can get some locations lists out of him. We need to start looking further out for Hugo, and considering how much of our lives is influenced by Pete's damned movies, I'm thinking former set locations might be places we should search. What was it that git of a not-Hugo said? look for a cave, behind some falls, possibly in a developed park?--there's a round object in there that's not natural...someone must've left it behind. find him in that area, i'll do what i can to get him out of that damned cave.
Pete's car is in the drive, and I realize I didn't bother to phone ahead. I always just assume he'll be home. Stupid of me really, the guy's got a life, a thousand things to do, projects all over the place... but on the other hand, I swear he's becoming a recluse of sorts. Never see him at the Firkin, never drops by these days. With any luck, maybe the next time I see him might be over drinks, something sociable, not today, though. He gives me a really curious look as he lets me in, and we wander back to his study.
Pete: "So, I'm getting interesting mail lately. A drunken email from Harry moaning about how Hugo's missing and no one can find him. Now, I don't put much weight on drunken messages from Harry, hell, they show up as regular as the full moon, but when he's wailing about Hugo missing, and I get something like this the same week, well, I have to wonder what's up. And now you're here." I slide a letter across the desk towards your chair, tapping it till you pick it up.
Dave: You push a letter at me, then lean back against your desk, staring at me as I read it aloud. "There are things you should know, but many are things I was bound never to reveal. They were hidden for a reason and must remain so, for the good of all. Yet I bear a certain responsibility for the events which have arisen. What I did, I did out of love for my craft; that Melkor could twist my craft I did not foresee. In recompense, and to protect Middle-earth, certain things were placed here in your world in the hope that they could not be turned to evil."
"Um, Pete, the fuck?"
Pete: "Keep reading Dave, it gets better."
Dave: I give you a wary look, and read more. "Your friend is in that hidden place as well. He needs your help. What it will take to find him you already hold in your possession: a glassy eye and a record of your days. More than that I cannot say. Be assured that there are forces aiding you in your struggle. But be wary also. Aulë (who you know as Alan Lee)" I quietly fold the letter back into thirds, stuff it back in the envelope (after noting the London postmark), and toss it back on your desk. "So, who's the joker? Unless you've been telling secrets, Alan's got no clue what's going on in Wellington."
Pete: "Don't look at me, I haven't seen him in months, and you can bet I've stayed quiet about this little ailment we've contracted, what, you think I want people to know about it?" I fiddle with my pencil holder, now properly devoid of actual pencils since the barbequed soup incident, and on impulse I pull out a dart that's gotten mixed in with the ballpoint pens, soda straws and chopsticks. "I was thinking one of you lot had gotten to him if he was back in town, but the letter's postmarked London. And that signoff, I mean, it's bad enough having Faramir and Friends crashing about Wellie, but bloody hell, I mean, Valar, you know? That would be too much."
Dave: "Yeah, I really don't want to think about that. But, okay. We can go round and round on it, but let's look at what the letter says. Cause, Hugo really is missing. He hasn't been seen in, christ, over a month? Did some daft stuff before he left, affairs in order, gifts given, pranks player, then poof, it's like he got spit off the face of the earth like some eyebrowed watermelon seed."
Pete: "So I'm supposed to take this letter seriously, then? Glassy eye and record of my days? Do I look like Nancy Drew here? What the hell am I supposed to make of those clues?" I spin the dart in my fingers, watching the feathers twirl round and round. "I keep a calendar on my laptop, not sure what I'd be looking for there, it's just my personal appointments really. My secretary keeps the important stuff, I'm *makes air quotations with crooked fingers* 'not to be trusted' with that for some damned reason. I've got a pocket calendar too, but well, same thing. Just my personal crap." I pull it out of my shorts pocket and toss it on the desk, shrugging.
Dave: I'm glancing around Pete's office, looking at the various models, statues, awards and junk that abounds in here. Lots of things have eyes. Some have more than two, even. I pick up a King Kong model that has sort of glassy eyes. "Okay, so, then. Hi, Mr. Kong. Where is Hugo, please?" I mock a deep voice and make the statue dance in my hand. "I don't know, Mr. Wenham, sorry. Got any bananas?"
Pete: "Oh, grow up, Dave." I grab the statue from you and set it carefully back in its spot. "Glassy eye, you git. Think about it. You were in the fucking movies, you know what that's got to mean. But we don't have one, thank god. I think we should focus on the 'record of your days', that sounds like something we could actually puzzle out." I start flipping through my pocket calendar, mumbling out holidays as I hit them, wondering about names of days of the week, anything that comes to mind, letting the words tumble out free-form.
Dave: Pete's words barely bounce off my ears as I remember that day in Hugo's library, what I saw on the bookshelf, under that pair of silk boxers. Holy fuck. "Um, Pete, hate to interrupt you, but um... we do have a palantir, guess you should know that."
Pete: I stop in mid-babble and gawk. "You have a prop, right? Well, maybe you could crack it open, see if there's a clue inside? This is whacked, we're not getting anywhere." In frustration, I let the dart in my hand fly, and it lands smack in the picture on my wall calendar.
Dave: "Um, no? I know where a real one is. Ah, hell. Screw the calendar, Pete, I think we should... talk... about... HEY." I'm staring at the dart's target, and it's a quite literally straight from a dream. "Pete, I think you've just nailed it. Literally. See that picture on your calendar? I dreamed that scene last night. That -very- scene. Right down to the odd tint to the colors." I walk up to the picture and really look at it. "See, there's a waterfall, and I was told that Hugo's in a cave behind a falls. Crap. Bet he's stuck in middle earth whereever the hell this painting is set. You have any idea where this scene was meant to be. Alan ever tell you?"
Pete: Everything you said past 'I know where a real one is' is a total blank to me. "You're kidding me. Tell me you're kidding."
Dave: "Um, no, I'm not. And oh holy hell, I know who can use it. But he hasn't... but he could... Dammit, he could DO this... Pete, I gotta go. I'll call you. Don't touch that calendar, we might need it for reference!" I'm out of my chair and halfway through the house when I feel you grab my arm.
Pete: "Dave, don't do anything stupid!" Oh, like anything anyone's done for the past two years around here has been smart. "If you do have one of... those, maybe you can find Hugo with it. And bugger me, I know who you're going to ask. And it's patentedly the worst idea you've ever had."
Dave: "It's a very fucked thing to ask him, yeah. But Hugo needs to be found. I won't leave him to die in some dank cave somewhere in middle earth! I just won't, I can't." And I'm out the door before you can say anything sensible that might slow me down. I need to get away from the Voice Of Reason or whatever Pete is, and go have a talk with Faramir. This is Denethor we're talking about and I really need his opinion on whether the guy's going to go ballistic on me or not.
Pete: I watch him drive off, then head back inside, very calmly and rationally kicking the coffee table across the room. "I hate this town sometimes."
(and NO it's not NC17. *shudders at the very thought*)
Dave: So, I told myself in a dream I'd go see Pete today and see if I can get some locations lists out of him. We need to start looking further out for Hugo, and considering how much of our lives is influenced by Pete's damned movies, I'm thinking former set locations might be places we should search. What was it that git of a not-Hugo said? look for a cave, behind some falls, possibly in a developed park?--there's a round object in there that's not natural...someone must've left it behind. find him in that area, i'll do what i can to get him out of that damned cave.
Pete's car is in the drive, and I realize I didn't bother to phone ahead. I always just assume he'll be home. Stupid of me really, the guy's got a life, a thousand things to do, projects all over the place... but on the other hand, I swear he's becoming a recluse of sorts. Never see him at the Firkin, never drops by these days. With any luck, maybe the next time I see him might be over drinks, something sociable, not today, though. He gives me a really curious look as he lets me in, and we wander back to his study.
Pete: "So, I'm getting interesting mail lately. A drunken email from Harry moaning about how Hugo's missing and no one can find him. Now, I don't put much weight on drunken messages from Harry, hell, they show up as regular as the full moon, but when he's wailing about Hugo missing, and I get something like this the same week, well, I have to wonder what's up. And now you're here." I slide a letter across the desk towards your chair, tapping it till you pick it up.
Dave: You push a letter at me, then lean back against your desk, staring at me as I read it aloud. "There are things you should know, but many are things I was bound never to reveal. They were hidden for a reason and must remain so, for the good of all. Yet I bear a certain responsibility for the events which have arisen. What I did, I did out of love for my craft; that Melkor could twist my craft I did not foresee. In recompense, and to protect Middle-earth, certain things were placed here in your world in the hope that they could not be turned to evil."
"Um, Pete, the fuck?"
Pete: "Keep reading Dave, it gets better."
Dave: I give you a wary look, and read more. "Your friend is in that hidden place as well. He needs your help. What it will take to find him you already hold in your possession: a glassy eye and a record of your days. More than that I cannot say. Be assured that there are forces aiding you in your struggle. But be wary also. Aulë (who you know as Alan Lee)" I quietly fold the letter back into thirds, stuff it back in the envelope (after noting the London postmark), and toss it back on your desk. "So, who's the joker? Unless you've been telling secrets, Alan's got no clue what's going on in Wellington."
Pete: "Don't look at me, I haven't seen him in months, and you can bet I've stayed quiet about this little ailment we've contracted, what, you think I want people to know about it?" I fiddle with my pencil holder, now properly devoid of actual pencils since the barbequed soup incident, and on impulse I pull out a dart that's gotten mixed in with the ballpoint pens, soda straws and chopsticks. "I was thinking one of you lot had gotten to him if he was back in town, but the letter's postmarked London. And that signoff, I mean, it's bad enough having Faramir and Friends crashing about Wellie, but bloody hell, I mean, Valar, you know? That would be too much."
Dave: "Yeah, I really don't want to think about that. But, okay. We can go round and round on it, but let's look at what the letter says. Cause, Hugo really is missing. He hasn't been seen in, christ, over a month? Did some daft stuff before he left, affairs in order, gifts given, pranks player, then poof, it's like he got spit off the face of the earth like some eyebrowed watermelon seed."
Pete: "So I'm supposed to take this letter seriously, then? Glassy eye and record of my days? Do I look like Nancy Drew here? What the hell am I supposed to make of those clues?" I spin the dart in my fingers, watching the feathers twirl round and round. "I keep a calendar on my laptop, not sure what I'd be looking for there, it's just my personal appointments really. My secretary keeps the important stuff, I'm *makes air quotations with crooked fingers* 'not to be trusted' with that for some damned reason. I've got a pocket calendar too, but well, same thing. Just my personal crap." I pull it out of my shorts pocket and toss it on the desk, shrugging.
Dave: I'm glancing around Pete's office, looking at the various models, statues, awards and junk that abounds in here. Lots of things have eyes. Some have more than two, even. I pick up a King Kong model that has sort of glassy eyes. "Okay, so, then. Hi, Mr. Kong. Where is Hugo, please?" I mock a deep voice and make the statue dance in my hand. "I don't know, Mr. Wenham, sorry. Got any bananas?"
Pete: "Oh, grow up, Dave." I grab the statue from you and set it carefully back in its spot. "Glassy eye, you git. Think about it. You were in the fucking movies, you know what that's got to mean. But we don't have one, thank god. I think we should focus on the 'record of your days', that sounds like something we could actually puzzle out." I start flipping through my pocket calendar, mumbling out holidays as I hit them, wondering about names of days of the week, anything that comes to mind, letting the words tumble out free-form.
Dave: Pete's words barely bounce off my ears as I remember that day in Hugo's library, what I saw on the bookshelf, under that pair of silk boxers. Holy fuck. "Um, Pete, hate to interrupt you, but um... we do have a palantir, guess you should know that."
Pete: I stop in mid-babble and gawk. "You have a prop, right? Well, maybe you could crack it open, see if there's a clue inside? This is whacked, we're not getting anywhere." In frustration, I let the dart in my hand fly, and it lands smack in the picture on my wall calendar.
Dave: "Um, no? I know where a real one is. Ah, hell. Screw the calendar, Pete, I think we should... talk... about... HEY." I'm staring at the dart's target, and it's a quite literally straight from a dream. "Pete, I think you've just nailed it. Literally. See that picture on your calendar? I dreamed that scene last night. That -very- scene. Right down to the odd tint to the colors." I walk up to the picture and really look at it. "See, there's a waterfall, and I was told that Hugo's in a cave behind a falls. Crap. Bet he's stuck in middle earth whereever the hell this painting is set. You have any idea where this scene was meant to be. Alan ever tell you?"
Pete: Everything you said past 'I know where a real one is' is a total blank to me. "You're kidding me. Tell me you're kidding."
Dave: "Um, no, I'm not. And oh holy hell, I know who can use it. But he hasn't... but he could... Dammit, he could DO this... Pete, I gotta go. I'll call you. Don't touch that calendar, we might need it for reference!" I'm out of my chair and halfway through the house when I feel you grab my arm.
Pete: "Dave, don't do anything stupid!" Oh, like anything anyone's done for the past two years around here has been smart. "If you do have one of... those, maybe you can find Hugo with it. And bugger me, I know who you're going to ask. And it's patentedly the worst idea you've ever had."
Dave: "It's a very fucked thing to ask him, yeah. But Hugo needs to be found. I won't leave him to die in some dank cave somewhere in middle earth! I just won't, I can't." And I'm out the door before you can say anything sensible that might slow me down. I need to get away from the Voice Of Reason or whatever Pete is, and go have a talk with Faramir. This is Denethor we're talking about and I really need his opinion on whether the guy's going to go ballistic on me or not.
Pete: I watch him drive off, then head back inside, very calmly and rationally kicking the coffee table across the room. "I hate this town sometimes."
