Hobbit One-shots/Short Stories

Dean O'Gorman #1

Imagine: Dean remembering your birthday

You sigh, walking into the large trailer that was Peter's office. The director was at his desk, looking over the schedules for the day. "Morning." You said, placing a tea down on his desk.

"Morning (Y/N)." Peter then handed you a list of tasks to do for the day, and sent you off to the large Rivendell set to get started.

You had been appointed as Peter's assistant months ago, due to your knack of organisation and your ability to remember details, such as the half spoon of sugar and splash of milk in his tea. The old assistant also quit during the middle of film production and he saw you standing a few feet away.

You walked onto the beautiful set, and it instantly cheered your spirits. You had had a rough morning. First, you had had zero time to do laundry, and had to scramble to find something clean to wear. It didn't help that you had also woken up very late. After that, it was a mad dash to get yourself a piece of toast and a coffee made, before sprinting out the door to get into the cab. You stopped at the tea place Peter liked and got him his tea, but you accidentally dropped the cup, and had to go back in and wait for a new one.

Finally, it was your birthday, and not a single card, email, text or phone call had come in from your family or friends back home. You tried to remind yourself that you were 17 hours ahead of them, being in New Zealand and all. Technically, it wasn't even your birthday there yet.

Yup, just a terrible start to what was supposed to be a great day. But you tried to shake it off. This was your best job ever, being an avid Tolkien fan yourself, and you couldn't let the experience be ruined. You wanted to relish every moment you spent on set, with the actors and the crew before it was all over, and filming wrapped. There was no guarantee for your job. Peter may find a new assistant for the next two films, and you'll be back to repairing costumes and wigs.

Not that you didn't like that job, but this one was a lot less lonely and had better pay.

"Oi! Look out!" You turned and quickly ducked as two set builders carried a large object over you. You patiently waited for them to pass and abruptly stood up, ready to work. Unfortunately, you hadn't properly judged the length of the object and hit your head on the end of it. Hard.

You hissed, putting your hand to your head. You would probably have a bump or two later today. 'This is just great.' You thought, blinking tears away from your eyes. You just shouldn't have gotten out of bed today. "Positive." You calmed yourself. "Think positive."

You got to work on your tasks for Peter, doing your best to think happy thoughts. You had more mishaps than you usually did, like accidentally dropping tons of makeup supplies, knocking over papers and stabbing your hand with your own pen, which proceeded to explode, leaving three of your fingers tinted blue.

But you did manage to set things right and get your tasks done. Except the fingers. Those were still blue, even though you spent your whole lunch in the washroom scrubbing them.

As you got ready to report back to Peter, you felt a little down. Today's tasks had been behind the scenes work, and you hadn't gotten to see any of your friends on set. You had hoped to see Adam, Graham and Dean. They were so amazing and could brighten your spirits no matter what. And it was surely obvious that your spirits needed some brightening.

"Mr. Jackson, I've completed the list." You handed him the papers and grabbed your coat from the little cubby you had in his office. You usually went out to say hello to your cast friends, but you were ready to go home, curl up with a nice cup of tea and have a Criminal Minds marathon in your hotel room.

As you pulled your purse out of the cubby, something fluttered out with it. It was a bright pink piece of construction paper, with colourful writing on it. You crouched, picked it up and read it: