back at the doorstep

chapter 1

"For the last time, Ian," Orlando said rolling his eyes. "You've got years ahead of you. All you're managing to do when you talk like this is remind me that I've got a dozen grey hairs."

Ian smiled that knowing, cunning smile of his. "Orlando, my dear boy, the last thing I want to do is depress you. All I am saying is that it's about time we had a reunion. It was you and the hobbits after all who swore you'd never drift apart but here we are less than twenty years later and I'll be damned if the entire Fellowship actually gets together more than twice a year. In fact, I seem to be the only one who has regular contact with all of you nowadays."

The younger man shrugged. "We're still close," he said. "I mean, I'd still trust them with my life. It's just that everyone's interests have split up into so many different ways. And our schedules never seemed to match and..."

"Bollocks." Ian thumped his cane decisively. "Never let go of good friends, Orli. Once you do find the ones worth keeping-- and it does take a long time to find them, believe me-- guard them as a miser would guard his gold."

Orlando saluted. "Whatever you say, Obi-Wan."

Ian's smile cracked wider. "You are getting older. You've mixed up your films. In any case, I sent out the emails, the letters, and the dancing telegrams five months ago. Everyone has accepted. The Fellowship shall descend upon merry olde England within the week."

"A week, Ian?" Orlando slumped back, eyes wide. "Am I the last to know?"

"I've told Mira to tell you countless times, and I've emailed you at least twice."

"Ah, but you never sent a dancing telegram. How in the world am I supposed to know anything if I don't get a dancing telegram?"

"Who needs a dancing telegram when you have Mira?"

As luck would have it, Mira walked in just then, a picture of solemnity. That is, until the impish glint in her eye caught the sun. Throwing her knapsack and coat on the floor by the parlour door, she strode with careful grace to the old actor's side.

"Are you gossiping about me again, Uncle Ian?" Mira leaned down to kiss Ian's soft, wrinkled cheek.

Ian returned the kiss and patted her rosy cheek. "Of course, child. I must remain in your father's good graces any way I can, what with all his acting and directing awards."

Orlando squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. "And where is *my* kiss, Elf?"

Laughing, Mira skipped over to her father's chair and, sitting on the armrest, gave him a loving smooch on the top of his head.

Orlando pretended to grumble. "Oh, *he* gets a kiss on the cheek; I have to settle for one on my head."

"But I get to see you every day, Papa, and Uncle Ian only three or four times a month."

"I suppose I can accept that excuse." As she walked--more sedately--to the loveseat kitty-corner to his chair, Orlando asked, as he was always wont to do, "How was work?"

Miro shrugged. "Same as always. I officially want to dunk Patricia's head into the nearest puddle. Papa, she's utterly unbearable!"

"Oh, how so?"

"Well." Mira straightened her posture and clasped her hands on her knees. "She's filed the returns for the past week incorrectly and I had to go back and fix them. Then, she forgot to store all the gels from last night and the carpenters who came in this morning wrecked a good dozen of them. There's also this other guy, Tommy Huxley--"

"Not the Tommy who used to lock you up in the play-oven in grammar school," frowned Orlando.

"The very same," said Mira. "Well, he's managed to single-handedly alienate everyone in the crew with his bloody superiority complex. Just because his brother's a big film star." She rolled her eyes.

Ian snorted. "He's undoubtedly getting offers."

"Of course." Mira rolled her eyes heavenward. "Some people are just so desperate, they'll even toady up to him."

"And you won't?"

She lowered her gaze to her folded hands. "Not that I don't love acting, Uncle Ian." She glanced at her father. "You all raised me on it. But I've no delusions about my skill as an actor. Just because I happen to be related to the world's best, I can't ride on your coattails. It isn't very smart."

Orlando couldn't help but beam at her words.

"You've agood head on your shoulders," Ian said, reaching out to pat her leg. "I wish more young people think as you do. You've an old soul, I think."

Mira wrinkled her nose. "Not too old, I hope."

Ian winked. "Old enough to keep ahead of the game, child. Whatever it is you intend to do, I've no doubt you'll succeed."

Her fair skin flushing fiercely, Mira shook her head. "You're only saying that because you're Papa's friend."

"No, no, no, perish the thought." Ian leaned back again. "I'm too old to lie even to save someone's feelings."

"Oh." Mira squirmed. Ian was amused to see that she and Orlando squirmed in the exact same manner. Their heads would lower then turn slightly to the left while they wrung their hands and tried their best to sink into the backrest.

"Well, I'd best get reading then." Mira stood up and pretended to pick at some lint on her skirt. "I don't want to bluster on about stupidity and not pass my first year. Are you staying for dinner, Uncle Ian?"

"Of course, child."

"Brilliant! I'll see you tonight then. Oh, and Papa?"

Orlando raised his eyebrows. "Yes?"

"Mandhir and Jenny are coming over tonight just so we can put the last bits and bobs in the lighting and sound design."

"All right then, but don't stay up too late."

Mira smiled. "We won't. Thanks, Papa."

After she'd left, Ian said, "Mandhir and Jenny? Don't they work for Billy?" At Orlando's nod, the older thespian tapped his can thoughtfully. "Doesn't the girl have any friends her age, Orli?"

He shrugged. "Mira just doesn't seem to have anything in common with girls-- or anyone-- her age. She's never taken that much of an interest in dresses or make-up or sleepovers filled with school gossip."

"All football and biology, she is."

"Yeah." Orlando rubbed his neck, his gaze flittering from one useless knick-knack to another. "I don't know... maybe I've somehow steered her in that direction by dragging her around for shoots. Or not marrying until recently."

"Nonsense," denied Ian, his tone gruff. "Like I said, she's got a good head on her shoulders. She didn't need to go through the fripperies of teenagers. As for not having enough female role models, she had your mother for a good long while as well as Samantha. Not to mention the many friends you have around. And Elisa was more than just her nanny, she was a great friend."

Orlando grimaced. "I've never been more sorry than when she left."

"You've done well enough the past eight years by yourself. She and CJ seem to be getting along fabulously."

"Yes." All of Orlando's teeth could be seen in his smile. It was a smile that Ian was used to seeing as it always decorated his friend's face whenever he spoke of his wife. "CJ's been wonderful. And Mira's been... well, I'd heard all sorts of horror stories about step-children but Mira sees her as a cross between a favourite aunt and a school chum."

"Don't question fate, my boy. Just count yourself lucky."

"I do, never fear." Orlando snagged the last of the sandwiches on the parlour table. "Back to the subject at hand; when exactly will everyone be coming?"

"Sean and Billy are coming by Friday. Dominic's flying in from the Czech Republic Sunday. John is coming either Monday or Tuesday, he's not quite sure. I think all the Americans are meeting up in Viggo's cabin for a day before catching a plane. I believe that they'll be here Thursday at the very latest. Everyone else said they would be here by Friday night."

"Everyone?" Orlando asked pointedly.

"Yes, everyone." Ian laid his cane across his lap. "We can all have one wondrous week of reminiscing and probably a few kareoke nights that neighbours will complain about immediately followed by a disgustingly ostentatious feast that no one will be able to finish."

"Sounds glorious. I'll start nailing the furniture down."