*

Sometimes Dominic thinks he’s been living half in a fantasy world his entire life – or at least since that first time he saw Star Wars when he was a kid – but when he tells people what he studied in school they look confused and he always wonders why they never see the common thread.

English Literature was obvious – you got to read books, write about books and discuss books and for an hour or an afternoon he wasn’t thinking about that girl, or not thinking about that boy, or that he was short and skinny and would never be thought about by that boy - or a hundred thousand of the other things that would tease at his mind. For that time he wasn’t Dominic and he wasn’t sitting in the back of Miss Gunn’s hot English room watching the dust drift on the non-existent breeze. He was lost in a world of someone else’s creation where everything outside faded away. And when he was jolted out of it by the bell or by the sound of his name raised in question, it wasn’t the place populated by Victorian pickpockets or vindictive animals that seemed unreal.

He’d taken Geography because he liked maps. He imagined being the first person to discover that place, the risk of the unknown and the rush of finding something few others had seen. He could see himself drawing the map and wondering what else was still missing. But Dominic had come along too late, the adventures and discoveries were long over and his only tangible link to them were dog-eared ordnance survey maps with place names disappearing in the creases or obliterated by too many anxious pens searching for them come exam time.

So then there was Drama. And acting was this perfect thing that seemed to have been invented just for him, because it was imagination become tangible, something he could be part of in more than just his head. Cautionary advice about chances of success and finding work didn’t seem to matter when he’d found that there were all these other people that thought the same way and to share the experiences with. He knew this was what he was going to do.

Still, he’d never expected to be in something so huge and he might have been happy making his name with parts on Casualty and the soaps, and in British theatre if he was lucky. If only because he wouldn’t have known any different, because not everyone’s lucky enough to progress from sheets and a clotheshorse, to cheap plywood, right to the real fortresses stage.

It hits him sometimes, that he’s part of a project he thinks people would sell their soul to be involved with if they even knew half of what the experience was like. They don’t talk about it, for fear of jinxing it, but he’s sure this isn’t going to fade away when the next blockbuster comes along, that they’re making a piece of history here. How do you really comprehend that though? It’s like knowing that there are six billion people in the world, but never being able to understand just how many lives that is. So it’s only a flitting thought, knowledge that he can touch but never quite keep a hold of.

It seems ridiculous since they spend so many long exhausting days as hobbits and elfs and heroes, but it’s easy to forget that’s all this is about – a movie. Just a movie. One that millions out of that huge population might go see, but still.

It’s easy to forget because he doesn’t need fantasy here, because there’s this family they’ve formed isolated in this perfect bubble. There are layers to it, a scale, like so many other things. When he looks out over hundreds of extras decked out in armour, practically as many crew rushing about in between them, that gives the rush, that’s the feeling that the little boy grew up and found that Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy are all real and live in this strange land that he fell into through the looking glass.

But it’s when it’s just the fellowship, or even just the hobbits, that it’s perfect. That’s when Dominic thinks he should drop down at Peter’s feet and thank him for giving him the chance to love these people he’d never have even known otherwise.

It’s not that he’s selfish, but he thinks maybe he’s got too used to having everything, and he doesn’t want to have to give it up. An amazing job in a wonderful country and someone he can go to no matter his mood, whether it’s for serious discussion or insane activity or someone to prop him up when he’s so tired he can’t see straight.

He misses the family he left back home but he doesn’t know what he’s going to do when this is over. He’s sure they’ll always be friends, there are too many New Zealand sunrises seen together, too many drunken games and confessions and mistakes they’ve made, but it won’t be the same when it’s only holidays and special events instead of every day and most nights spent in each others company.

They never talk about that either, that it’s drawing to a close. And if Lij’s touches are more frequent, Orli’s hugs longer and Billy’s tighter, no one mentions it. No one mentions that they’re making the most of it now before they have to share it with the rest of the world. Before they have to go back to normality, the real world. Fantasy. Call it what you will.