Work Text:
A tough act to follow
They all made it abundantly clear that he had been the fifth choice to the role; other actors turning it down, being busy with other obligations, or in that first guy’s case; for serious personal reasons reluctantly leaving.
They being the production team from Peter Jackson himself to the newest make-up assistant whose task was merely to pass tools and prosthetics to the make-up artists. Aidan was simply not the right Kili everyone wanted.
Upon his first meeting, and subsequent audition, Peter had admitted to him that the production team had initially after Rob’s departure intended to go for a new, unknown actor: all fresh talent, blond-angel-face, eager graduate from acting school. In Aidan’s mind, that sounded very much like they hadn’t wished for some lanky man with pitch-black unruly hair, a goofy smile and a way too prominent Irish accent.
Peter had explained to him that time that no, dying Aidan’s hair blond was not an option, to which Aidan exhaled in relief, before the director said that with the first established Kili actor gone, they had thought about making a new approach for the little brother of Fili. A dark-haired one to resemble Richard Armitage more and make the audience easily connect the royalties in the company of thirteen dwarves.
Aidan had perked up at that, thinking very highly of Richard and not minding at all to have his character designed after such a handsome, kind man. Better that than standing out from Thorin and Fili and look like a bastard child.
He actually feared that fate a little when Peter showed him and pointed at various photos of the many actors in the movie. Everyone looked either burly or sturdy and quite menacing when they frowned into the camera. Aidan felt almost delicate and fragile when he thought about his own slim frame and angular face.
He might have hidden his spiking nervousness by giving enthusiastic answers to Peter’s questions. Of course he could handle a sword! Of course he could ride a horse, was certainly a brilliant rider to be honest!
Better to lie and learn quickly than be turned down like the fifth wallflower at a ball. If that happened, Aidan’s confidence, pride, and payment would be equally shot down. He needed this job, wanted it. He had quit Being Human for this once in a lifetime opportunity. He was going to be the best Kili ever!
Only, Aidan was late to the party and hadn’t really understood the legacy Rob had left on the site even if his physical form was gone.
But Aidan got the job, signed the contracts, sent one copy of each document to his agent, and moved to New Zealand with clothes, personal possessions, and expectations in his luggage.
He was, as he settled in his own trailer on the day of his arrival and began to unpack, so psyched to meet the gang he would work with for a long time, especially Dean O’Gorman. The blond man had been a delight at the audition and Aidan was convinced that the other man must have felt the two of them clicking immediately when they read their lines and giggled beside each other.
That afternoon, after he had been given the tour in a golf cart and marveled at the sheer size of the area and its buildings, Aidan entered one building and was directed towards a darkly furnished room where the rest of the dwarf company sat reclined in chairs with documents in their hands and chatting with Peter and Philippa.
Aidan was more or less pushed inside the room by the assistant behind him, who also thrust a bundle of papers in his hands before rushing down the corridor.
***
Aidan gulped when he noticed that all the men, and woman, had stopped talking and were staring at him.
“Uhm, hello!” he began in a too squeaky voice for his liking, and so he cleared his throat and felt his cheeks flush at the audience he had.
“I’m Aidan Turner. Nice to finally get to meet you all. I’ll play Kili, son of Thorin, and…”
A few of the actors swerved on their seats and one muscular, middle-aged man coughed which interrupted Aidan’s speech. Aidan glanced nervously at the man who he recognized as Dwalin, or Graham Mc-something-Scottish-clan-name.
The stern-looking man removed his glasses slowly and turned towards the handsome man in a designer’s tracksuit beside him.
“Richard, did you recently plant yet another of your personal ideas for Thorin’s past in Peter’s mind and made Kili your secret son, posing as a decoy nephew?”
Richard looked like he didn’t anticipate the question and began to stutter, and shook his head at the same time as Aidan realized his mistake and blushed harder.
“Sorry, sorry. Rookie mistake, eh? Breaking the ice a little. So, what’s up?”
Aidan went for an easy demeanour and flashed the group one of his blazing grins but the actors looked less than amused.
“Strike one, kid,” the guy named Stephen warned, surely meaning to joke, but his tone was dead-pan. Well, actors were good at acting. Still, Aidan felt himself deflate and he quickly made his way over to the only unoccupied chair, thankfully placed far from Graham but beside Dean and another young bloke dressed for success in a cardigan and slacks.
Aidan nodded at Dean and held out his hand to the other man. “Hi. I’m Aidan.”
The other man began to smile beautifully like a blossoming rose and shook his hand.
“Adam Brown. You haven’t heard of me,” he said shyly but Aidan chuckled knowingly.
“I’m not a big-shot either. Pretty new to the profession, but very excited for a project like this.”
“Me too,” Adam admitted before turning his attention to the director and Aidan straightened his back, promising himself to not slump this first time and ruin the first impression everyone got of him.
Apparently this was the discussion group where all the actors, depending on when they appeared in the movies, would gather on chairs in a circle to discuss their individual characters and personalities, along with ideas for group dynamics and family ties.
But when Aidan scanned his papers and read up on Kili’s basic traits and relation with the other dwarves, he frowned at the very childish, almost ridiculous young dwarf that emerged from the text. When he addressed those details and proposed a different approach he had personally begun to outline, everyone coolly shot down his suggestions.
“Well, I have a hard time imagining the second brother and heir would be responsible at all. Everyone knows it’s only the first-born amongst siblings who are serious and burdened with a duty the younger siblings can’t comprehend,” Mark Hadlow argued and received nods from the others while Aidan retracted his stretched legs and rested them under his chair and turned his eyes to his lap.
“I just thought it would suit Kili to act royally and carry an air of regal dignity sometimes. Not always, just… sometimes,” he ended up mumbling before shutting up when he got no response and the others began to talk about their own roles. His first impression of the colleagues could have been brighter.
***
The next day, after a long night’s sleep in a spacious trailer, Aidan was in a better mood when he crossed the trailer park to enter the cafeteria and find himself some breakfast. An assistant with a pad on her arm and a pen that seemed to have run out on ink stopped by his table to say welcome as he sipped steaming coffee. Then she gave him a folder with that first week’s schedule for him and the other actors so he knew what was up next in the enormous project.
Aidan paled at the time for make-up he would have to get up from bed for, but still felt excited and ready to prove himself to the production team. If the rest of the dwarves could wake up at 4:00 a.m. he could do the same. Then he studied that day’s obligations and felt very thrilled when he saw that for most of the day he would participate in a session with Richard and Dean where the two younger men would practice on taking after Richard’s mannerism and way of speech to make their family ties clear on the screen.
But first he would finish breakfast, then head over to the make-up room where he would get his first prosthetics and wig stuck to his head. After that it was the costume area to try whatever the tailors had sewn for his character.
The session with Dean and Richard started out really well, even despite Aidan’s initially miffed mood when a boss of some sort stated while he was getting his make-up that his long beard would have to come off.
It had been decided that Kili would only have sparse stubble. Aidan had been close to snap in that moment; wanting to tell the guy whether he knew how long and with what dedication to a role it took to grow such a fantastic beard, and ask why no-one had told him of these plans earlier? Instead he bit his tongue and pouted while the make-up artist hummed a song and applied some seriously elfish-looking tips to his ears.
But then Aidan was finally meeting Richard and Dean who were also wearing prosthetics and dressed in their costumes. The muscle-suit was heavy and the actual clothes where containing warmth so Aidan understood why Richard and Dean spent so much time between the takes sitting down and panting for water.
During one of those breaks, Aidan landed in a chair beside Richard and glanced at him with admiration.
“You’re really convincing, you know,” Aidan emitted and Richard blinked and turned in his seat as if surprised that someone was talking to him.
“Thank you, Aidan. You’re doing a great job as well. I imagine it must be somewhat strange to play the younger generation when we’re not that far apart in age, but you still manage it.”
Aidan smiled shyly, while his insides did flips when Richard complimented him.
“I played a century-old vampire in a show before coming here. I’m versatile in that age aspect, I guess. But it’s fun to play a boyish rascal.”
“Oh yeah? Try playing a young dwarf heir pulled between playing with his little brother, and behaving like royalty to impress his uncle,” Dean interjected from the other side of Richard and all the three men chuckled at their different but still amusing characters.
Aidan reached up to tuck back a long strand of brown hair behind his ear but nudged the tip of his ear instead; not yet used to his longer, pointier ears.
“Damn elf-ears!” he muttered and Richard seemed to overhear him.
“It’s supposed to be dwarfish ears. Still pointy, though.”
“With the long hair, I look like an elf. It’s going to get worse when I have to shave my beard off. I’ll look like a weird cousin if I’m going to pass for a dwarf,” Aidan complained.
Dean added helpfully with a tilted head so his braided moustaches dangled, “But you’ll look like a really, really hot dwarf to the audience. Think of what everyone thought of Viggo Mortenson after he had showed his stubble, leather boots, and that tall, dark, handsome stranger-vibe in his first appearance in the Fellowship of the Ring! Everyone will adore you.”
Aidan couldn’t help but smile at Dean’s supporting words when Richard began to rub his fatter rubber hands together almost anxiously.
“You are cast as a dwarf, Aidan. And not just like any distant, inbred dwarf, but my nephew; in direct line to Durin; our ancestor. Yes, you may be a young dwarf, barely old enough to join the quest, but Adam, err; Ori is actually the youngest, so it makes perfect sense that you don’t have a meter-long beard yet. The audience must see your youth. Furthermore, what good is a long beard when you’re an excellent archer? The stubble will be okay.”
“I hope so,” Aidan sighed and stood up when a cameraman waved his hand for them to continue acting. The other two actors followed him to the stage, but suddenly Richard grabbed his arm and pulled him close to whisper, “If the ears are buggering you too much and you think you look too elfish with them; pull your hair over them. I’ve done so plenty of times and no-one minds.”
Thankful for the tip, Aidan nodded with an impish look on his face.
However, his new-won confidence and closeness with Richard and Dean came to a halt later that afternoon when the other dwarves entered the room, looking intimidatingly large in their costumes next to Aidan’s slender frame.
Aidan was going to act against all of them in different constellations to understand the dynamics between the many characters. First Aidan showed the new-comers what he had accomplished earlier with Dean when the two of them had analyzed and repeated Richard’s actions. Then the comments began to fill the steadily hotter room.
The actors, and some people in the crew, began to complain about Aidan not moving, talking, frowning, and fighting like Richard who seemed to be an expert on everything he did. Aidan struggled harder to do what Richard did, feeling like a soulless puppet instead of a character of his own with only some resemblance to his uncle.
After hours of working, a longer break was announced and everyone scurried to chairs nearby to catch their breath or receive cool air from white tubes. Aidan stayed by Dean’s side and noticed how Richard wandered off into the corner in the room while muttering and gesturing at the wall.
“Is Richard doing some yoga-meditation?” Aidan asked Dean but his question reached other actors as well. Ken Stott cleared his throat and looked personally offended.
“He’s a great man who delves deeply into his character’s mind-set. Something every serious actor should aspire to,” Ken remarked dryly and sent Aidan a withering glare. Aidan hunched his shoulders and ducked his head down with embarrassment and regret.
Okay, maybe he would have to cut down on the fidgeting and be cooler and calmer like Richard, but he always was a restless person so it was hard to force his hands to lie still in his lap, or to not bounce his knees. He didn't want to make anyone dislike him.
***
Aidan’s first actual filming scene was together with Dean and stuntmen. Dean was clad in a harness and balancing on his shoulders. The scene required a lot of action and coordination and Aidan was bearing it all, figuratively and literally speaking since Dean’s dwarf boots with steel toecaps pressed hard into Aidan’s shoulders.
Despite the harness, Dean’s still tangible weight pained Aidan through the too thin padding of his costume. But Aidan wouldn’t complain, not when Dean was the one doing the largest challenge up in the air like professional. Tears formed in Aidan’s eyes when the feet shifted and a nerve got pinched.
“Cut!”
One of the producers approached the dwarfish pyramid and let out in a clipped tone, “Aidan, you’re doing that miserable face again. Start being excited! You’re in a fight.”
The producer pointed at her own exaggeratedly stretched smile as if to show him like a teacher to a child in drama class in primary school. Mortified by the reprimand, right below his one friend to makes matters worse, Aidan soldiered on and hid his watering eyes by whipping his head back and forth so the hair covered his features.
Afterwards, once the scene had been completed and Dean was back on the ground, Dean winced and walked bowlegged, commenting on his strangled ‘lads’.
The blond man clapped Aidan on the shoulder and stated,” That went well in the end. It would have been more embarrassing to stand on Rob and bother him.” Dean smiled brightly but Aidan flinched from the slap on his aching muscle. Dean didn’t notice because he was already turning to head for the changing room.
Aidan massaged his twinging shoulders and dark thoughts of the awfully talented actor Dean seemed to admire flashed through his mind.
Stress plagued Aidan in the next few weeks. His schedule was packed from dusk ‘til dawn with activities and he had to catch up with the other dwarves as fast as possible. He had to get accustomed to dwarf walk, make-up, new costumes that needed to be altered to fit him, and everyone in the production departments sighed, complained, or glared at him.
He just wasn’t the Kili they had prepared for, he gave them extra work, and he was the wrong one. It was difficult to feel welcomed as a newcomer when either needles or hair clips stung him, or PT’s told him to repeat a move until it looked right. Aidan moved wrong.
Neither was he allowed much needed breaks, because the filming process was already seriously delayed and so, after training and fitting before dawn, Aidan was usually flung into a strange set and exhausted once the actors were supposed to finally act. The others stood and sighed in their hot costumes, almost as if it was Aidan’s fault that his absence meant that the cameras didn’t begin to roll in the mornings.
***
Aidan sat beside Richard who didn’t mind his presence at the table in the cafeteria, but who nevertheless stayed muted to keep his Thorin mood for the next filming scene after lunch. Aidan idly twirled his fork in the pasta and tried not to curse when the cutlery slipped from his clumsy hand prosthetic and clattered on the plate so everyone in the cafeteria stiffened and fell silent for a moment.
Aidan kept staring down to avoid irritated looks until the others resumed talking at the other tables. He overheard Mark telling Jed, “…but some people are just born to play elves, don’t you agree? Tall, slim, classically handsome men; they make poor dwarves, in my opinion.”
Aidan clenched his jaw and was convinced that the comment was about him, the failure who looked nothing like Fili’s brother. A gruff voice aimed at Mark announced Graham’s opinion.
“If you ask me, I want Rob back. He was a promising lad.”
Jed snorted. “Good luck with that, mate. Seems we’re stuck with Turner for good. Not that he isn’t good; he’s passable, I guess…? But you remember how it was when we were in his age; filled with impatience, attitude, and not wanting to be corrected by anyone.”
Aidan paled and lowered his hand clutching the fork. Did they really think that about him? That he was a snotty brat who didn’t want to learn or form new friendships? Or had Aidan thanks to the stress been blinded to his own faults? Was he obviously showing such a bad personality? If that was the case, no wonder nobody liked him. Aidan himself wouldn’t want to spend time with such a person.
Then he began to doubt the kind Dean and Richard. Were they faking what he assumed was a growing friendship? Did they endure Aidan’s company simply because they were too polite to avoid him? Hadn’t Richard been giving him long, solemn looks for some time now, as if analyzing him? Was his and Dean’s silly games of hide and seek just a desperate way for Dean to finally rid himself of Aidan’s presence for a few precious minutes?
Aidan’s heart ached when doubt seeped into the beating organ. He got up from the chair and grabbed his tray. His sudden motion seemed to startle Richard who tilted his head with that strange expression on his face below the hair and make-up.
“Aidan, about your height and looks; I think you…”
“Save it, Armitage! Can’t you give me a fucking break once in a while?” Aidan sneered rudely and stomped off to dump his shit meal and wander off for the rest of the lunch break, hurt that even Richard meant to remark on his performance and looks.
That night, in the peace inside his trailer, Aidan made an emergency call to his friend Russell back in England. Aidan cradled the phone like a rare artifact and burrowed against his nest of comforters, pillows, and blankets.
“Yo, Russell here.”
Aidan struggled to contain a giggle at the familiar and corny but amusing voice.
“Hey, man. It’s Aidan.”
“Aidan! How are you! My goodness, you’re on the other side of the world. What’s it like in New Zealand? You must have the time of your life.”
Aidan grinned and placed his hand comfortably on his belly, playing with the hem of his tank top. “I’m great. I miss you a little, if I’m honest. Can’t tell you much about work, since it confidential so far, but it’s improving. A bit.”
Russell apparently heard the catch in his voice.
“Aid?”
Aidan felt an emotional wave crash over him and press him against the bed, making it harder to lie.
“It’s… it’s tough here. Everyone is still treating me like a stranger. I know I’m the substitute for the first actor, but I’m surprised no-one has warmed up considerably to my charm as usual.”
Aidan blinked against threatening tears in his eyes and his hand trembled on his stomach. “It’s not funny being here. I almost want to go home, were I not bound by a contract.”
His quiet mumble was met with huffs and protests.
“Aid, listen very closely,” Russell reasoned before he explained slowly, “This is a great opportunity for your career, and your personal acting development. Social life can be a bitch but it’s barely been a month. Give the others a little more time. You can do this and the role will give you a mountain of money and publicity. You stay put there, or I will personally keep you from crossing the border to either England or Ireland.”
Aidan’s tongue felt swollen and his nose clogged with withheld sobs. Russell meant well, but he had no way of knowing just how miserable Aidan felt.
“Thanks for those encouraging words, mate. But I’ll keep dreaming about our days with Being Human,” Aidan piped up with enough of fake glee to not be detected. A chuckle came from the phone.
“Just don’t bite anyone on the set, will you? Alright, I must go. But I’ll call you again soon when I’ve got more time.”
“You’re one to talk about biting, rabid dog. Bye, Russell,” Aidan finished and then hung up before a great longing for home and real friends burst inside of him and he rolled onto his side and let tears fall on the creased blanket.
***
Peter commented on his accent on more than one occasion in the voice-room where the actors recorded clear lines.
James’ Irish sounds were accepted as an aspect of Bofur’s background in Middle-Earth. But Aidan should talk like Richard and Dean.
In the middle of a scene from Mirkwood when the dwarves were supposed to be half-starved and exhausted, Aidan let his real tiredness bleed into his character, which messed up his lines. A short warning rang through the gloomy room.
“Mr. Turner, watch your th’s. They sound like hard t’s when you shout for Thorin.”
Aidan nodded seriously but once everyone back got into their starting positions at the microphones, his shoulders sagged and he briefly kicked the leg of a chair behind him, hating how badly he was performing. What good was he if he couldn’t even speak clean English?
A thump on his back made him jump and an apologetic Richard stood before him, arm lifted from the nudge.
“Almost there, Aidan. We’re almost done with the scene. You can rest soon.”
Aidan flushed and gulped. Great; even the distant Richard had noticed how Aidan ruined shot after shot, recording after recording. His encouraging comments sounded troubled and condescending. Aidan was one of the youngest actors and yet he was the one lacking in energy.
Aidan hitched his sweater higher on his shoulder and shrugged.
“You better head to your spot. Peter will be angry,” he warned silently, not responding to what Richard had said.
After the scene, Peter called Aidan to his side as the other actors shuffled to the exit. Aidan went to his boss with butterflies in his stomach. The director expressed his concern and that was bad news.
“I’m not sure you’re really getting what we’re after here, Aidan,” the shorter man sighed and scratched his head. “I’m imagining Kili as an untested warrior who admires his uncle but is a mischievous and sometimes stupid, young dwarf. And I’m not sensing that in your performance lately, whether in the voiceroom or on the set.”
“Kili isn't stupid,” Aidan began to defend his character but Peter cut him off with a sweeping gesture of his hand.
“Just give me some real, honest smiles into the camera once in a while, that’s all I’m asking for.”
After the embarrassing talk with Peter, Aidan stormed through the door to the studio and saw Dean who had been waiting for him outside. The other man gave him a fleeting smile and scratched his beard thoughtfully.
“If you want my help, just ask for it, Aidan. I have a brother, so I can help you understand the complexity of that bond, if you want.”
“I can do that on my own!” Aidan snapped in frustration and bore down on the perplexed Kiwi. He was so angry with his own shortcomings and the fact that no-one ever gave him a chance to prove himself without humiliating assistance.
But then he watched with regret how Dean’s kind smile vanished and was traded for a resentful expression.
“Good luck then,” Dean sneered before stalking off and leaving Aidan feeling lonelier than ever.
Aidan sought comfort that night in the local pub, downing beer after beer and nursing his fragile heart. At one point he tried to relieve his feelings by confiding in the bartender but the man was too busy to listen to a stuttering drunk Irishman.
Aidan turned his attention to his own reflection in the mirror on the wall behind the counter, finding his rosy face between a vodka bottle and dusty brown bottles with beer. He frowned and scanned himself.
He was wrong, not Rob, and an impolite, spoiled brat of an actor.
He mused silently, “If they wanted someone new and talented and profitable and still with my dark looks, why didn’t they ask for Kit Harrington instead of me?”
Just as the words left his mouth, it hit him. The leading men and women in the production had asked for the recently famous Englishman. They must have after Rob’s departure, only Kit had probably been occupied with Game of Thrones at the time. And then the role had passed on and been offered to three other people until finally Aidan landed it.
Well, landed it might be a strong word for it. Was given it was probably more correct, seeing as it was a huge honour to get a chance to work with Peter Jackson, and have a role with lines. The trouble was, Aidan wasn’t used to feeling like an inferior beggarman just having the luck to work with first-class actors. He was treated with suspicion, doubt, and without encouragement.
Aidan paid for his drinks and slid from the bar stool, feeling empty despite the amount of alcohol slushing within.
***
One Saturday evening, Aidan spied through the small window in his trailer on the group crossing the trailer area. His fellow actors were dressed in fancy shirts and coats and some were singing, others swinging bottles in their hands. They were obviously heading for a pub in the town. They hadn’t invited Aidan with them.
Crushed by the rejection, and too upset to take up his book and continue reading, the Irishman scooted across the bed and walked into the tiny bathroom. This was the perfect moment for his experiment. No-one would disturb his peace so he had the rest of the night as his disposal.
His fingers found the plastic bag on a shelf under the sink and he stepped outside into the hallway and unpacked his secret purchase. Last weekend he had headed into a supermarket and bought a hair straightener.
He planned to tame his curls on his own in the mornings before heading to the make-up room; to make it easier on the make-up department when his wig would be attached to his skull. This would save them so much time and surely stop the sighs at the constant state of his wild bed hair. He would only have to put his alarm on 3:15 a.m. to have time for the straightening, so it wasn’t that much earlier than getting up at 4 o’clock. At least he told himself so. It was better to sacrifice time for sleeping in exchange for approval.
Aidan plugged in the device beside a long mirror on the wall and waited for it to heat up. This wasn’t a girly thing to do: it was the necessary measure he had to take to ensure his continued part in The Hobbit.
Once the strightener was hot enough, with the button shoved to the highest level, Aidan awkwardly reached for a curl and maneuvered the hand holding the straightener and trapped the hair between the plates. The device sizzled on the gelled hair and a disgusting smell reached his nostrils.
Aidan coughed and sputtered and momentarily forgot about the pressed hair. He glanced at his reflection and discovered some ominous smoke coming from his head. He rapidly dragged the device over the strand until it ended. The result was definitely flat, even if it felt weird to have a portion of his hair suddenly warming his skull. He grabbed the next curl to tame it into submission.
Aidan was almost done with one half of his hair. Currently he was lifting the straightener high and angled it awkwardly over his head while the other arm stretched for the next strand on the back of his head. Aidan didn’t notice his mistake until he felt a searing pain that bore no resemblance to the heat before when he had freed bits of hair from the clench of the device.
He gasped, cursed and made to move the straightener away. It was caught in a tangle of hair and wouldn’t budge. Blazingly hot sides of ceramic plates were pressed against his scalp. Aidan whimpered and tugged with panic on the stinking, searing evil machine until he turned his wrist differently and scorched hair fell from the opening straightener.
However, Aidan felt his head still throb from the burn and he unplugged the device and put it down on the floor. Tears welled in his eyes as he examined the wound with his fingers and he let out a frail, “Fuck,” before he peered up at his reflection.
The image was shockingly awful. He looked nothing like Kili with his nut-brown, flowing tresses.
No, Aidan was ugly; a complete failure with half his hair curly and the other hanging sadly and flat. This wasn’t the handsome, cocky, gleeful Aidan Turner. More like Aidumb with self-esteem crumbled to nil. A failure who couldn’t even flatten his stupid hair. That was the final thing that crashed into Aidan’s sad mind.
With a sob he sank down and clutched a knee to his chest to rest his forehead against it and cry his heart out. Not even Kili would have been able to keep his cheerfulness at a miserable place like this. This was hell.
***
The door to the trailer was unexpectedly wrenched open and in climbed Dean who shouted, “Hey, Aid; do you want to come to the pub with us…?”
The Kiwi easily discovered the mess at his feet. Aidan tilted his head up and with wet streaks on his cheeks, quivering lips, and red-rimmed eyes, he must have looked like a disaster. He saw how Dean staggered backwards and he released another sorrowful moan at the rejection. Of course Dean would leave and pretend not to have found him crying like a baby.
But then Dean finished taking him in and stepped forward, sat on his haunches, and slid an arm around Aidan’s trembling shoulders.
“My God, Aid. What’s the matter?” the other man asked with surprising tenderness and Aidan sniffed and buried his face to hide it from further ridicule. Unfortunately his bowed head meant that his hair was on display. A harsh gasp came from Dean and Aidan stiffened under the light arm.
“What happened to your hair?”
Aidan hunched his shoulders but didn’t manage to shake off Dean’s arm. “Tried to straighten it. To help the make-up department in the mornings. It takes them an awful time to arrange my hair before the wig can be put on.”
“Why would you do that? Trust me; those guys are professionals who knows how to handle a straightener and has plenty of assistants to help them out.”
Aidan looked up and blurted with a hoarse voice, “Because I’m the worst actor on the project!”
The hand tightened against his damp shirt and another came up to tug at his arm and shake it beseechingly. “Did they say so? Aidan, tell me! Did anyone actually say so?”
Aidan hiccupped and swallowed around the lump in his throat. He stared back at Dean’s blue, wide eyes.
“Don’t feel the need to spare my feelings anymore. I know when I’m not wanted, or what I really am.”
The Irishman heard a mutter that sounded like something along the lines, “It’s your feelings I am trying to spare, poor thing.” But what Dean loudly inquired was, “And what, young man, do you think you are?”
The confession came with an abandoned moan from an exhausted Aidan.
“I’m a poor man’s Kit Harrington,” he sobbed with a breaking voice and tears streamed down his vulnerable face as his greatest and most secret insecurity bubbling up inside him.
But then the other man sat down on the floor and he gently pushed Aidan’s tangled hair back and shook his head while replying softly, “No, Aid. He’s a poor man’s Aidan Turner.”
That had Aidan stopping from hyperventilating himself into a frenzy, and he blinked at the calm but worried blond man. “Stop joking, Dean, please. I know that you all wish you could get rid of me, and it was such a bad idea to think I could fill Rob’s shoes.”
Aidan bit his lip and tilted his chin up and away from those soothing, searching eyes beside him. “I should never have come here and tried to play Kili.”
That notion had Dean sitting straighter and calling out, “Hey! Don’t think for one second I’m letting you resign! I won’t lose my little brother one more time; the brother I adore the most.”
Aidan flashed him a fleeting hint of a smile, if only to make the upset expression disappear from Dean’s delicate features. “Seen a lot of Kili’s along the way, have you?”
Deans scoffed. “Many, and none comparable to you, Aidan. I wanted to get to know you better lately. That’s why I came over.”
Dean grimaced and ducked his head down apologetically. “I’m sorry, to drop this on you now, but I just found out that no-one in the gang had asked you to come with us for a drink tonight. It was a shitty move of them to ignore you, so I yelled at them for some time and headed back to get you.”
Aidan moved his tongue slowly when he replied with caution, “I don’t feel like being taunted tonight in public.”
Immediately, Dean looked crushed. “Oh, mate. We’re not that bad, are we? I admit some of the guys are a bit protective of each other and wary of newcomers, but we do like you.”
Aidan snorted with amusement and sat cross-legged to not make his thigh cramp. “Like hell they do. I’m the most failed man in this production, and I know it.”
“Richard always speak highly of you. He’s growing fond of you. Says you and he resemble each other; looking not like the typical dwarf, but royal and perfect for portraying the Durins.”
“But Richard always stared at me like I was a freak, or told me how to improve…”
Dean frowned unsurely. “Are we talking about the same Richard?”
Aidan tried to point out another vital detail that proved his shortcomings. “I’m not like Rob. I’ll never be the Kili he could give you.”
“I don’t want him to play as my brother anymore. He’s gone and won’t return, which was sad but something we had to accept in the end. But I clicked with you at our first meeting, Aidan. You felt that connection too. It’s so easy to play your big brother on the screen. And I won’t deny it; I feel close to you even outside work. I’ve worried about that sad face you get sometimes.”
Aidan leaned back and gawked at the older man.
“I pushed you away! The one person I was sure genuinely liked me, and I brushed you off! What kind of an idiot am I?”
Dean gently bumped his shoulder into Aidan’s and gave him a shy smile with dimples.
“You’re not an idiot. You responded accordingly to cool attitudes which made dynamics so bad. I’m so sorry for not seeing that. I’ll talk to the others and ask them to apologize to you and behave like mature men. You’ll never have to feel lonely anymore. I’ll make sure you get included in our circle, starting tonight, if you’re up for it. Please accompany us to the club.”
Aidan did appreciate the gesture, but his crying had developed into a head-ache and his body felt liquified. Dean made everything sound so easy.
“I don’t feel like heading out. Plus my hair is a mess.”
Dean nodded in sympathy and raised a hand to tug carefully on one flat tress. “Understandable.”
Dean hummed, then beamed at Aidan with excitement glittering in his eyes.
“I’ve got an idea. You take a shower to freshen up and make those cute curls return, and I set up some snacks here for a night in. Just you and me. How do you feel about playing Xbox games?”
Aidan asked slowly and studied how Dean’s finger lingered at his raven strand as if reluctant to part from it, “Won’t you be expected to join the others? I don’t want to ruin your evening and make you hang out with me out of pity.”
“I don’t pity you, Aidan. I care about you, and I want to be here, get to know you better. Another advantage is that I get to see you in nothing but a towel,” Dean stated firmly and finished with a cheeky grin and Aidan couldn’t help but smile back.
In Dean’s nurturing and kind presence, his heart would most likely mend and once his confidence returned, he would be able to play the best Kili the world had ever seen.
But then of course, he had known that the moment the role was offered to him and he accepted.