Chapter 131

The crew had moved into Kaitoke Regional Park, located north of Wellington, which was about to become Rivendell in Middle-earth.

The set was ready.

Early in the morning, Martin entered the dressing room and asked the makeup artist to attach two pointed ears to him. The ears, made of silicone, were designed to mimic human skin as closely as possible. It took a full hour to ensure they adhered perfectly, without a single flaw.

But Martin was used to this process.

While the makeup artist worked, Martin ate breakfast and chatted with them. Once the ears were in place, it was time to put on the light blonde wig. This wasn't simply "wearing" a wig, but carefully positioning it and ensuring it fit perfectly with a fake scalp, which took another half hour to adjust.

When Martin finally emerged—ears glued on, wig in place, draped in his off-white linen cloak—the morning sun had fully risen. The park had grown busier, with more tourists walking about. Many of them glanced over, curious.

As Martin strolled out in the morning glow of Kaitoke Park, those who were watching were stunned.

"Who is that?"

"Wow, what a beautiful sight!"

"What movie is this for? With a face like that, I'd definitely buy a ticket!"

The breeze blew, and Martin's long golden hair flowed. He was suddenly inspired and began performing an "Elf Dance," a traditional dance from the Gods and Demons Continent. Created by elves to honor the forest goddess, the movements were graceful and peaceful, not complicated or intense—much like a gentle morning breeze, making those around him feel at ease.

His blue eyes reflected the color of the sky as the sunlight shone in them. His delicate face was at times hidden by his hair, at times completely revealed. With each motion, he seemed to blend seamlessly into the forest, the breeze, the sunlight, and the morning air in Wellington. It was as if the natural beauty of Kaitoke Park enhanced his dance, adding a layer of perfection.

The exclamations from the tourists faded into silence, all eyes focused on him. In their view, the young man dancing with the wind appeared to glow—almost like an elf stepping out of the forest.

When the dance ended, Martin lost interest and returned to his tent, leaving behind both stunned tourists and crew members.

Nearby, Peter Jackson eagerly turned to the photographer beside him. "Groot, get a shot! Get a shot—don't say no, or I'll kill you."

Photographer Groot, equally excited, stammered, "Yes, yes, come on, this is going to be the most memorable shot of my life! Martin is like a god of beauty."

From a distance, Orlando Bloom exclaimed, "That dance was beautiful. Was that improv? He's truly a natural!"

Elijah Wood, standing nearby, sighed with admiration. "No, he's clearly favored by the gods!"

As the actors finished getting ready, filming for the day began. The staff responsible for the horses brought Martin's pure white horse over.

This horse was actually the one from Martin's grandfather's farm.

The majestic Arabian horse lowered its head gracefully, grazing on the grass. The prop master handed Martin a bow and quiver, and an assistant helped him with the gear.

In the early morning light, the elf from Tolkien's novels—Legolas Greenleaf—had truly come to life in Kaitoke Park.

With a swift motion of his right hand, Martin nocked three arrows between his fingers, drawing them with dexterity and releasing them in rapid succession. "Swish, swish, swish." Each arrow hit the target dead center.

Then, with a quick kick, Martin urged the horse into a gallop. As he rode, arrows flew like a barrage, each target quickly filled with arrows.

After the test shots, Martin steered his horse toward the targets, leaning slightly to the side and drawing another arrow in a fluid motion, hitting the target once again.

The crowd of tourists watching from a distance had begun pulling out their cameras to capture the moment.

"All departments ready? Action!"

Already in position, Martin pressed his hand to the saddle, mounted the horse with ease, and gently squeezed his legs. The horse began trotting, and the main camera followed his every movement. The heroic figure of Martin, rising and falling with the horse's rhythm, was captured on film.

Simultaneously, two other cameras filmed from different angles—one capturing Martin's profile and the other focusing on his connection with the horse. His flowing hair, strong posture, and raised cloak were all beautifully recorded.

Peter squinted, analyzing the shot. "How does it look?" He was already thinking about the lighting and tone that would best complement the Legolas character on screen—something bright and sunny. He imagined everything in the frame being pristine, bathed in natural light.

To the tourists outside the fence, it seemed as though a beautiful elf had emerged from the forest—elegant and dignified, as if he were part of the very scenery of Kaitoke Park.

One tourist turned to another, exclaiming, "This is worth it!"

"Hey, man, did you find out what movie they're filming?"

"It's The Lord of the Rings!"

"The Lord of the Rings? Tolkien's masterpiece?" A fan of the author gasped. "That must be Legolas! He looks just like how Tolkien described him. I'm definitely going to see this movie when it comes out!"

"Me too!"

"I don't care about elves or Tolkien, but I'll buy a ticket just for this handsome guy—and maybe even two or three!"

Nearby, Richard Taylor, who had been watching the filming, couldn't help but laugh.

Although filming had only just begun, he already had a strong feeling that his old friend would find great success. He was genuinely happy for him.

Next, the crew filmed a scene where Legolas dismounted. Martin performed the dismount in three different ways, each perfectly designed to be aesthetically pleasing. With his precise control over every movement—the angle of his raised cloak, the timing of his hair blowing in the wind, the horse's mane swaying—all was perfectly synchronized.

Peter Jackson marveled at the sight, thinking to himself that the universe was truly favoring him, sending him a burst of inspiration