After finishing Orlando Bloom's makeup, the makeup artist didn't bother to look at the actor who had complained earlier. Instead, he motioned to the person behind him and said, "Next." The next actor, delighted, quickly took a seat, leaving the complainer standing awkwardly.
This time, however, he didn't dare utter another word.
Robinbaum leaned closer to Orlando and whispered, "See? This is the fate of those who offend someone they shouldn't."
"For actors like us, even makeup artists are people we can't afford to offend," Orlando remarked, his tone tinged with resignation.
"Absolutely. Never underestimate them. If they want to sabotage you, it's as simple as a poorly done makeup job. You could end up looking unrecognizable on camera. That's why big stars always have their own personal makeup artists."
"I understand," Orlando nodded, suppressing his feelings of unease.
With his makeup complete, Orlando Bloom stood outside the audition room, waiting for his turn.
Before long, a staff member called out, "Orlando Bloom! Orlando Bloom! Is he here?"
"Coming!" Orlando responded, stepping forward briskly.
The staff member looked him over, compared his appearance to a photo in their file, and waved him through. "Alright, follow me."
"Thank you," Orlando said politely, trailing behind the staff member.
Watching from a distance, Robinbaum nodded with satisfaction. Orlando was following his advice to the letter.
As Orlando entered the audition room, he took a deep breath. Everything he had prepared for—the countless hours of effort—would now be tested. Whether he succeeded or failed would depend on his performance and whether he could leave a lasting impression on Peter Jackson and Martin.
Stepping inside, Orlando moved to a predetermined spot, angling himself slightly to let the sunlight stream through the window and highlight the side of his face. The soft natural light accentuated his features, showcasing his best side.
"Wow!"
"This looks fantastic!"
"He seems more like an elf!"
"Shut up! Martin is the perfect elf prince."
"Oh, sorry, Martin. That's not what I meant. I just think he could play another elf."
"It's fine," Martin said, looking up from his handheld gaming console with a slight smile. His deep, captivating eyes complemented his delicate yet striking features. "This gentleman is certainly handsome."
For a moment, the producer who had commented earlier felt the urge to slap himself. How could he say anyone else embodied an elf when Martin himself, the epitome of elven grace, was sitting right there?
Orlando, taken aback, was momentarily starstruck. Martin was even more stunning in person than in magazine photos. His unique charisma radiated effortlessly, leaving Orlando awestruck.
Sensing an opportunity to engage Martin, Orlando smiled and said, "I couldn't possibly outshine Martin. He truly is the natural elf prince."
Martin chuckled softly. Since the infamous cheetah-shooting incident in New Zealand, the media had frequently bestowed the title of "Elf Prince" upon him.
Appreciating Orlando's tact and noting that he had indirectly taken a role from the actor, Martin decided to offer a small gesture of goodwill.
"Orlando Bloom, I've heard of you. Jeff from CAA mentioned you—a rising talent."
Orlando's heart soared. A single acknowledgment from Martin was worth more than accolades from a dozen other industry figures. However, he restrained his excitement, maintaining composure. "Thank you for the kind words. I'll work hard to live up to being called a star of hope."
Martin nodded and returned to his game, saying no more.
This wasn't a sign of disrespect to Peter Jackson or the audition process. On the contrary, it was a demonstration of confidence and trust. In Hollywood, minor producers often brought distractions like newspapers, magazines, or game consoles to auditions to signal their lack of influence. By contrast, Martin's actions conveyed his support for Peter Jackson's vision, leaving the final say to the director.
After watching Orlando's performance, Peter Jackson nodded approvingly. "I'm very satisfied. I think Orlando Bloom is perfect for Faramir."
The producer immediately agreed. "Of course. Your decision is final."
Emerging from the audition room, Orlando was brimming with excitement. Spotting Robinbaum, he couldn't contain himself. "Robin, I—"
"Not here," Robinbaum interrupted, casting subtle glances around the waiting room. "Let's talk once we're out of here."
Once they were seated in Robinbaum's car, he turned to Orlando. "Alright, spill it. Is it good news?"
"I think so," Orlando said, calmer now, and recounted the events of the audition.
Robinbaum burst into laughter. "You seized the opportunity perfectly! If Martin vouched for you, this role is as good as yours."
He added with a grin, "By the way, once it's official, don't forget to express your gratitude to Martin. A small gift—not too extravagant—will do. It's the gesture that counts."
"I understand."
"And one more thing," Robinbaum said, his tone serious. "Until the contract is signed, keep this to yourself. The last thing we need is someone sabotaging you."
"Got it. I was just a bit too excited earlier. It won't happen again."
"Good. Haha, this role will be your breakthrough in Hollywood, Orlando. But remember—it's only the beginning. Let's celebrate!"
"I heard Martin likes Mr. Zhou's restaurant."
"Then that's where we'll go. You'll have something in common to talk about with him next time."
As Orlando and Robinbaum drove off, a Cadillac pulled into the parking lot.
A blonde man with a beard stepped out, hurrying toward the New Line auditions. Midway, his phone vibrated.
He answered, and the familiar voice of a New Line producer came through. "The role of Faramir has been cast. Sorry, but I can look into finding you another part."
The man's face darkened. Damn it! What happened?
"Another role?" he muttered, seething. "Easier said than done! The only parts worth considering are Aragorn and Faramir. Now what? Play a soldier? No way!"
Frustrated, he hesitated before dialing another number.
[•———•——•———•]
𝙥𝗮𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙤𝙣(.)𝙘𝙤𝙢/𝙂𝙤𝙙𝙊𝙛𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧