Chapter Text
Richard sighed as he put the script down for The Hobbit. It was for a flashback scene with Lee as Thranduil and Richard was having a tough time getting into Thorin’s mindset. He’d written pages and pages of notes about why Thorin hates Thranduil and why Thorin would need to be rude, even in a flashback, but it’s just not flowing today. Which would be fine, except they were filming it tomorrow. Richard cracked his neck and rubbed at his beard, grateful that he was already out of costume and makeup.
“If only I could talk to Thorin,” Richard mumbled. Then he snorted. “Yeah, like that would happen. He’s a fictional character.” He closed his eyes and laid his head against the trailer wall.
Suddenly, there was a rumble, a flash of light, and something heavy landing on Richard’s lap. His eyes popped open and looked down. He opened and shut his mouth a few times, before coughing slightly. “Thorin?” he asked, slightly high pitched.
The figure in his lap groaned, but otherwise didn’t move. Richard could see wounds and a lot of blood on the dwarf. The king even had Orcrist grasped tightly in his hand.
“Oh, dear,” Richard said. Now he had to figure out a way to move Thorin, without hurting either of them. Richard just prayed he wasn’t going crazy.