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The man known as the magus had been pleasantly surprised with where he spent most of his ‘captivity’, as he liked to call it.
The Eddisian government had kidnapped him quite neatly, and he was quite sure of who had orchestrated it. But somehow, the bitterness of being hijacked in the night, swept away across the border, and kept from contacting his king or cabinet- had faded rather quickly. Not entirely, of course, but the magus had long ago accepted that such things happened in war.
It had only been a matter of time until someone targeted him as a close advisor to the political heads of Sounis, and he was just thankful it had been people who liked him.
Because he knew his captors so personally, he had trusted that they would not imprison him, but had still expected to end up under house arrest, or maybe spirited away to some private, unreachable spot where his country could not find him.
He had not expected to simply be kept in the palace, alongside the royal family.
It made some sense, though. There were guards everywhere, impeccable surveillance, and no chance of Sounisians sneaking in for a rescue. Plus, he and Gen could keep each other occupied, which the magus occasionally suspected was the main benefit of the arrangement.
It was around two weeks after his arrival that Gen approached the magus in the royal library, interrupting his cruel, torturous captivity, (coffee and a magazine.) The magus saw rather than heard him coming, and set his magazine down. He would have preferred a newspaper, anyway, but they were not allowed to him.
“You finished Return of the King, right?” Gen demanded without preamble.
The magus blinked. “...Oh, yes. It didn’t take me much longer to finish reading than the previous two books.”
“You never told me what you thought of it, like you did the others.”
Gen was legitimately put out, and somehow the magus didn’t mind. It was better than the blank listlessness that had haunted him for days, ever since the short-lived smugness over his win against the magus had worn off. He was incredibly frustrating to be around that first week, but any irritation with him had soon been overridden by concern.
“I apologize,” the magus told him. “It was an excellent ending, but I was going to wait and gather up my thoughts on it properly. By the time I was ready to discuss it, you had told me you were going to be gone for a whi-” he trailed off, trying to keep his eyes off the empty sleeve at Gen’s side. The boy still wasn’t as comfortable with his prosthetic as everyone around him hoped for him to be, and the magus did not feel like bringing up his fateful trip to Attolia any time soon.
Gen was nodding, though. “And then the war. I know,” he said, curtly. “But now that you’re here-” There was a look in his eyes, not quite the same mischief of once upon a time, but a look that made the magus think that he wanted something.
“-And you don’t have anything to do, really.” Gen finished.
“Out with it.” The magus narrowed his eyes.
“Do you want to watch the movies?”
Though he didn’t quite smile, Gen bounced a little, fidgeting in a way that made him look the most excited the magus had seen him at all since his illness.
“You know I don’t watch a lot of television,” the magus hesitated.
“They’re legitimately good,” Gen told him quickly. “This isn’t like last time.”
Wincing, the magus took a sip of his coffee. Hardly a week after his return to Sounis following the ‘roadtrip’ he had brought Gen along for, and before the boy was even off of bed-rest from his stab wound, the magus had received a text from him innocently suggesting some documentaries about folklore and mythology that could be 'helpful for his research'.
...The deranged boy would be forgiven more easily for arranging a political kidnapping, than for the money the magus had been tricked into paying to stream what had ended up being a bewildering romance drama, rather than an actual resource on vampires.
But he had truly enjoyed the Lord of the Rings at Gen’s suggestion, never having truly delved into the fantasy genre before. And there was something hopeful in the boy's face for the first time in so long, that he couldn’t have said no, even if he’d hated the books.
Once he’d given his agreement to watch the films, however, he wondered what he’d gotten himself into, for Gen immediately began calculating something.
He leaned on the arm of the magus’ chair. “Alright, what would be your preferred watching schedule? We could do it in a 12 hour spurt, not counting breaks, of course. Four hours a day also works, or even two hours a day, and go one disc at a time..”
***
The magus had only lightly suggested that twelve hours for three movies seemed unnecessary, but he had been firmly told to shut up. Not just by Gen, but also by the very queen of Eddis herself, who had stopped by the library to check on them.
After giving up in the face of their offended arguments, the magus had requested the schedule of one disc an evening. Gen had sighed deeply, but agreed to it, telling him they would begin the following night.
***
So it was that the most important political prisoner in the country found himself bustled into a theater room of the royal library, sharing a couch with an Eddisian prince.
Gen apparently had no qualms about showing up to the movie night with a foreign minister in his pajamas. He nestled into the couch, hardly visible beneath the layers of blankets he’d brought, and despite knowing there were certainly guards standing outside the room, the magus felt unexpectedly trusted.
It did not even take him through the first evening to eat his words about twelve hours being unnecessary. The magus was having a wonderful time, and if it wasn’t for the ache in his bones after the first two hours were up, he would have happily let Gen put on the next half.
He glanced over every once in a while, and his enjoyment had been bolstered by how at peace his young friend had looked. The only exception was the introduction of the character of Arwen.
The magus had wondered for only a moment if Gen’s sudden frown was due to the odd deviation from book canon regarding her entrance, but then he had realized who she looked a little bit like. He had quickly searched for something to comment on to distract him from her presence on screen, and decided on impulse to voice a thought he had had at the beginning of the film.
“You know, if they remade these, they could cast you as a hobbit, Gen.”
The boy whipped his head around to glare, which the magus took as a victory.
“And they wouldn’t even have to do any forced perspective.” Gen stretched out on the couch to kick him, and returned scowling back into his nest of blankets.
The ending of the first movie left the magus with many thoughts, including some that he would not have voiced for any reason. Boromir’s wish to bring back glory to a faded kingdom ruled by a fickle man prodded something deeper than he would have liked.
The next few evenings were much the same. Gen twisted himself into pretzel-like positions on the couch under his blankets, the magus brought tea, and both in their own way let the magic take them far away.
Gen piped up with comments more often once they reached the Two Towers. “If you look really closely- you can see Gimli lose his boot right…right there. There it goes.”
“That scream was real, by the way. He broke his toe on the helmet.”
He was more content than the magus almost ever remembered seeing him, even before his convalescence. But every so often a blade would come near a hand- fingers that wore the Ring being lopped off- knives dragged slowly over the palm- and Gen would go still. If the magus slid closer to him on the couch during those moments, neither of them spoke of it.
The day of starting Return of the King was full of anticipation. The magus had been invited to a private tea with some members of the royal family, and everyone wanted to know his opinions.
Stenides attended the event, saying he was too busy to come watch with them, but that he would have loved to. He gushed about the set designs for a while before excusing himself to go back to work.
Standing up to go, he told the magus to watch his little brother whenever the mûmakil were on screen, and left the room followed by Gen’s protests, and the rest of his family’s laughter.
The magus made sure to take his advice, and was rewarded with the hilarious amount of happiness that visibly filled his friend at the sight of the war elephants. He declined to comment, but smiled to himself.
Helen had promised that she would pop in for the lighting of the beacons, and she kept her word. She looked haggard, extra pale in the light of the screen, but she leaned on the back of the couch over Gen’s head, letting tension drain from her shoulders as the music soared and the fires began to burn.
It was sweet, but if the magus had to admit it, the last two evenings were difficult ones as the tension of the story grew heavier. It was not easy to watch war grow hopeless in Middle-earth while he knew that war raged all around him in reality. He carefully avoided mentioning the more upsetting parts of the plot while talking with Gen during the day, but his mind kept returning to the more unpleasant things.
As funny as it was to compare Gen to Sam because of the Elephants, the scenes of Frodo growing weaker with despair and pain hit a touch too close to some of the looks he had seen in his friend’s eyes.The magus tried to ignore it, but then like an ocean wave came the small, bittersweet moments between Pippin and Gandalf, and all he could think of was how vast the difference was from how carefree and mischievous Pippin had once been. The magus kept shooting looks over at Gen, but if the character arc bothered the boy, he didn’t show it.
Gen did, however, grab the remote to fast forward through every scene of Arwen looking dead or dying.
He closed his eyes tight when Frodo’s finger was bitten, and blood was shown pouring over his wrist and arm.
He clenched his jaw at the scenes of the return to the Shire, wholly changed, while the world went on, not understanding. The magus did too, at that part. There would be far too many soldiers understanding that feeling soon.
Hopefully quite soon, but who knew? The real war was not one that might be solved by throwing a ring in a volcano, and certainly not one that would end with a happy wedding.
But then again, the despair on the screen had been beaten back with faith, with small deeds, love, and perseverance as much as anything else, and the magus could only hope that Gen saw that too.
What he hoped the boy hadn't seen were the tears that filled his eyes at the budding of the white tree of Gondor, and the hope of a kingdom rising like a phoenix.
By the time Frodo’s ship disappeared into the horizon, neither of them wanted to speak. Finally, Gen bid the magus goodnight, and left him there, watching the credits go on and on as he gathered himself back together.
***
He didn’t see Gen at all the next morning, and was privately worried until the boy showed himself in the library. The movies had been a lovely experience, but no entertainment was worth setting the clock back on Gen’s progress.
The boy looked exhausted when he approached, and there were dark circles under his eyes like he hadn’t slept, or had cried, or both. But he was smiling.
“Now you can admit I have good taste in movies,” he prodded, and the magus smiled back.
“Yes, I suppose I have no choice but to admit so.”
Gen brightened further.
“It was very fine quality filmmaking,” the magus went on. “I can’t help but admire the work that went into them.”
Gen nodded, and plopped into the seat next to the magus. He was holding his phone, but keeping it turned out of sight. “...It’s worth mentioning that the fans of the movies
have also put a lot of work into amazing projects over the years as various tributes.”
“Oh? Like what?” the magus peered over, his interest piqued.
Gen held his phone out so that he could see it, hovering his thumb over the play button of a video. “One of the most notable was a song someone created about the moment that Legolas and the others realized that Merry and Pippin were being taken to Isengard-”