Sleep wasn’t easy last night. Despite the whiskey, and the hot shower, and the rather comfortable bed at the B&B. I had laid awake, listening to the sounds of the house for quite some time. Every creak, every noise, I heard. Around one, Bernard, Marcel and Johnathan arrived back. They were quiet, but I heard the front door of the old house open and close, followed by the muffled boot steps on the hardwood floor. I hadn’t heard Tom go to his room, but I’m sure he was there.
We took the two cars—Bernard and I in the SUV, and Tom, Marcel and Johnathan wedged in the tiny automatic they arrived in. It’s a 45 minute drive from the town, but it’s a pleasant one. Bernard does his normal thing, remarking on the surrounding area and the nearby buildings. I keep quiet, lost in thoughts and the huge space around me.
Alwinton is mostly ruins. There’s huge, expansive green land, dotted with old, rust and orange dappled autumn trees. The clouds shifting through the sky leave the landscape mottled with shadows and then brilliant bright spots. It’s a moving, scenic place and it nearly buzzes with a calm and somewhat fantasy-like atmosphere. Vines cover the main standing wall of Alwinton, ivy green foliage covering speckled gray rough stone.
“This is perfect.” Johnathan breathes, pulling out a rather impressive camera. He starts wandering through the ruins, taking photographs. Bernard and Tom follow, walking carefully through fallen stone and overgrown half walls.
“You’ve never been here before?” Marcel asks, glancing back at me as we walk. Instead of going through the castle ruins, we start walking around the grounds.
“No. First time. To be honest, my boss Mary Heath is practically an expert on Alwinton. But she was unable to come. I know more about the surrounding area.” I say. I’ve dressed warmly in a dark blue and teal flannel shirt, a thick black knit cardigan, jeans, and knee high riding boots. The men are dressed similarly in boots and jeans, with light jackets or sweaters on top. Bernard wears a sweater vest under a tweed sports coat, and a cap firmly over his light hair. Tom’s wearing a black quilted jacket over a tshirt, and jeans. His russet hair blows in the wind, and I can see his tall, lean frame quite a distance off, picking through some rubble.
“Ah, I spoke with Mary on the phone.” Marcel nods. “Bernard has been gracious enough to take us farther, up toward the coast. I know that wasn’t on the original itinerary, but over drinks last night we discussed some fantastic sounding sights. I think it will be perfect for what we have in mind.”
“Sounds great.” I nod. I have to be back in London in a day, but I’m sure Bernard has a plan.
We spend much of the afternoon wandering a bit aimlessly through the area. Marcel and Johnathan chat about set ideas, with Tom nodding along. It’s interesting to hear their chatter—to see how they are planning to use the area. Tom fills Bernard and I in on the story of the film they’re making, and I listen carefully, despite myself. Tom’s a fantastic story teller, and though I don’t want to, I can easily get lost in his voice. It’s not the first time I’ve been mesmerized by his voice, but this time there’s hundred year old ruins as a backdrop. Still, he doesn’t quite meet my eyes as he talks, and I feel the stony, cool wall between us as real as the old walls nearby.
After a few hours at Alwinton, we hop in the cars and drive a few miles north to another sight. More ruins. More old stone and rubble. It’s beautiful though. The sky has turned from cloudy with breaks of sunlight to just overcast, and it seems to threaten rain any moment.
“Let’s take a look, and then we should be heading out.” Bernard suggests to us, as we begin walking. We grab umbrellas before leaving, knowing that the sky looks ominous. It’s nearing four in the afternoon, and I’m starting to get hungry and tired. I look around, and I don’t seem to be the only one feeling that way. Dark smudges under Tom’s eyes suggest he didn’t get much sleep last night either. And Johnathan rumbles softly about needing a bite to eat soon.
BINABASA MO ANG
Hello Again (a Tom Hiddleston fanfic)
FanfictionTwo people meet under the conditions of a one night stand. The only thing they didn't realize, was that their lives would be intertwined, their relationship changed by family, friendship, and a constant, unyielding pull toward one another. This is t...
