I wanted to let everyone know that I blame “C.”It is, without doubt and irreconcilably, her fault. Without her clever rouses and maneuvers, her constant chit-chat about the alluring-and-enigmatic acronym“BBC,” and her dangling before me such sumptuous visual feasts, I would not be what I am today. Folks, “C” is not to be trusted! Without her conniving, artful ways, I would not here, nor would you. I would not be a Lloydalist and you would not be reading this confession.
It was around Christmas 2011 (the evening of December 20th, to be exact) when the trailer for Peter Jackson’s two-part epic film The Hobbit (2012, 2013) was released. Despite being super excited to see this film (after several years’ worth of hiatus and snafus), finally becoming reality, and thus allowing my exuberance to get the best of my senses as my eyes bore through the screen the first time I watched the trailer, I was still half-conscious enough to tear myself from Middle Earth long enough to make a few notes. Mostly, I noticed a dwarf named Thorin Oakenshield.
If you pay any attention to The Lord of the Rings fandom, at all you will know the role is being performed by a tall, brooding, British man (and not at all a short, squat, dwarf-y bloke) who bears a striking resemblance to that cravat-wearing guy from BBC’s indulgent miniseries North & South (2004) who catalyzed not a loyal following by an entire Army. You may have heard of him: Richard Armitage. (His fans have dubbed themselves The Armitage Army.)
Side note: It’s actually “C” who woke me up, with her phone call, on that evening of December 20th. She had been stalking TheOneRing.net for hours, waiting for the word that the long-awaited trailer was up and running(later, this long-awaited trailer and its viewers crashed the Internet, but that’s another story). After she saw it, she called and, through a blather of hyper, high-pitched squeals and rapid-fire sentences, because “C” can rarely maintain coherence when her bottled excitement has been loosed, I managed to realize what she was saying. I looked at my clock and realized that I’d slept through the launch of the trailer—but I needed my sleep! And the trailer wasn’t going anywhere! So, not only is “C” evil, she is also a sleep-destroyer.
In any case, though, I was surely wide-awake after enjoying the aforementioned trailer and setting my eyes on that baritone, silk-voiced actor behind the dwarf-leader get-up. Through the Christmas holiday and into the New Year, and after various repeat performances (read:wearing out the replay button) of The Hobbit’s teaser trailer, my admiration for Richard grew as I spent time getting my hands on as many of his performances as I could. “C” wasted no time fueling the as-yet-humble fire of interest. First, she recommended that I watch BBC's Robin Hood (2006-2008). This is what “C” said on December 29, 2011 about Richard Armitage’s Guy of Gisborne: “Totally Lucifer-likedespicable—gorgeous and greedy; dangerous and beautiful.” How could I not want to watch that?!
Robin Hood is where the fire began to rage a little (don’t worry, Sherwood Forest wasn’t burned), as I eagerly threw on more kindling: I watched all three seasons in about a week and a half. What can I say? I was hooked! And it wasn’t just because Richard Armitage was so appealingly sinister, with his wavy black locks, form-fitting leather garb, and occasional half-smirk; so divinely dimensional and human, despite a sometimes flat script that really had the actor putting his heart into elevating a dastardly character that, by the end, you cannot help but love.
No, dear readers, while I had begun Robin Hood with the idea that I had come to Nottingham for Richard’s “flawlessly-flawed”(“C’s” term) Guy of Gisborne, the somehow-it-works-on-him eyeliner and all!, I left with the idea that the happiest moment had been stumbling off the typical path, into the humble village, and into the path of a humble carpenter’s son.
His name was Will Scarlett. The actor portraying him was then-22-year-old Harry Lloyd.
I really think “C” was trying to keep him to herself at first, to be honest. But then, she slipped up. In a conversation about Robin Hood and Richard Armitage one day in early 2012, she made the mistake of mentioning Harry Lloyd. She was sneaky about it, dropping in a reference as if casually, hoping I wouldn’t notice or would be too concerned with thoughts of Mr. Armitage and his spectacular job as the psychically-torn Guy of Gisborne to have my mind on anyone else.
It was bad enough that Robin Hood was beginning to interfere with my sleep. “Too much Robin Hood this week,” I messaged her on January 6th. “(Can there be such a thing!?),” I asked, rhetorically, before admitting, “I've been staying up late watching it so it's no wonder I was tired.” This was only one of several sleep-deprivation-due-to-Merry-Men messages I sent to her. Okay, it was my choice to stay awake—but “C” started it. She shouldn’t have thrown more kindling on the fire when it was time for lights out!
Then, one day, in the midst of a conversation about Guy of Gisborne and Mr. Armitage’s impeccable performance, she drops oh-so-nonchalantly into the conversation, with her off-handed, “don’t-pay-attention-to-me,-I’m-not-saying-anything-important” manner, “Oh, and Will Scarlett’s a joy to watch, too. He’s played by Harry Lloyd.”
That was it. An almost flippant remark, couched in a slight-comparative study between Will and Guy (as if the two are even comparable as characters).
I admit I enjoyed Harry's performance as the shy carpenter-turned-outlaw, who barely escapes a hanging in episode one, when I first watched Robin Hood but it wasn't until my second viewing of the series (because, naturally, I watched it again soon after) that I was sold.
What came between early 2012 and the present is the fodder, I’m sure, of many future blog entries on Lloydalists. Suffice to say, we have plenty of time for discussing Harry’s role as Will Scarlett in Robin Hood, as well as his other roles, on the Lloydalists blog, and we hope that you will engage with us and add to the discourse as well.
For now, though, let me not mislead you any longer. I’m sure the title of this blog post piques your interest enough. What does Viserys have to do with anything? There has not been one mention of that white-haired ruffian from Game of Thrones (2011-Present) thus far! And “The Exploding Pen Theory”?! Surely Harry never appeared in an episode of Sherlock (2010-Present), although that would be something worth pursuing (Steven Moffat—sign him up! He already passed the test as the creepy possessed schoolboy in two episodes of Doctor Who (2007)!)
What, then, could it all mean?
Let’s leave all the talk of Will Scarlett, Robin Hood, and carpentry behind. I’ve watched it, re-watched it, and even made a trek part-way across the country in order to visit “C” and watch some of the Season One episodes with her.
Fast forward a couple months and by mid-March 2012 I watched all the works I could find featuring Harry Lloyd, although I still have not watched every one of his performances. It didn't matter. I was thoroughly smitten with this charming, talented actor. My begrudging attitude toward “C” was by now very much softened. “C” and I had been keeping up on current news and saw that Harry would be in London performing as incestuous,malignant Ferdinand in John Webster’s play The Duchess of Malfi at the Old Vic Theatre. How thrilling, we thought, that Harry was involved in such a dark, engrossing play (“C” had read it in college and assured me it was a meaty, thought-provoking role, something with which Harry could sharpen and show his acting chops). She and I hatched our plan: we wanted to let him know how much we were enjoying his work, bonding over it, and celebrating all the little nuances of his characters, from the wonderful to the wicked. The performances we couldn’t see—like those unavailable on DVD in the U.S. or the stage play that we had no way of getting to—stoked us for more Harry Lloyd, and we wondered what projects he would tackle following the conclusion of Malfi on June 9th.
So, back then, in mid-March, we decided that we wanted to wish him good luck during the run of The Duchess of Malfi, and send our humblest but truest “best wishes” for everything beyond. Certainly, a talented actor like this deserved to know he had supporters “across the pond” sending thoughts and good-vibes his way.
“C” and I selected our stationary, ordered our International Reply Coupons, waxed with anxiety for weeks over what we wanted to write, reorganized our stationary drawers, bought our padded envelopes, selected the stamps, agonized some more, and, a couple of weeks later, we’d each (independently) written a supportive letter to Mr. Lloyd. Additionally, we both included two pictures of him that we (politely, we hope!) asked him to sign. And then, after the stuffed-and-sealed packages sat on our dressers for a day or two, “settling” and gathering courage for the flight in the U.S. Mail plane across the Atlantic, we finally got up the courage to mail them.
“C” mustered her courage sufficiently to send that packet of love and support the second week of April; I sent mine on Tax Day (that’s one way to take the edge off a not-so-wonderful day; distract yourself with pleasant letters, not unpleasant tax forms). My co-blogger will undoubtedly fill you in on her side of the story at some point, so I will leave that portion of our “tale” alone. As for myself, I received a response last week on June 1, 2012.
This is where our riddle begins. As aforementioned, I had sent Harry Lloyd two photographs to sign for me, one from a photo shoot in 2009 and the other a candid-looking still of Will Scarlett,sitting in the Robin Hood set-forest, no doubt.
And yet, what was sent back was the 2009 photo of Harry and, not Will Scarlett’s photo, but and an entirely different head shot, a black-and-white, smaller portrait of Harry that, according to other fan reports floating around the Internet, has been used for fan autographs since at least 2010. Not a big deal, of course—who wouldn’t be ecstatic to get a relatively-prompt reply from someone she admires?!—but I had loved that image of Will so much and wondered of its fate. Poor “Will,” nowhere to be found: what could have happened?
By now, it may be quite obvious that “C” and I are not exactly known for our total composure and sobriety. We are self-entertainers, whimsical as much as we are serious. The “Missing Will” led us into some fun of conjecturing as to where our Merry Man had wandered,perhaps lost in Sherwood Forest, out “collecting honey” with Djaq, or wandering the Holy Land with his growing family, having retired from the gang of outlaws(at the end of Season 2; see Robin Hood for the meaning of the “collecting honey” euphemism).
In any case, I couldn't imagine why the picture would be traded out unless it met some sort of tragic ending. “C,” of course—nosey as ever—wanted to know the precise details of everything that had arrived in the self-addressed-stamped-envelope I’d sent and received back. I,of course, obliging and kindhearted friend that I am, detailed everything as much as possible. I spread out the two photos before me like a private eye examining the evidence of a fishy case, touching each in turn very gingerly.Not out of fear of smudging fingerprints, mind you—but out of fear of smudging one of the odd golden globes adorning the front and back of the photos.
Yes, golden globes. Or blobs. Or globs. You get the idea. As if Viserys Targaryen, in his last moments of agony, had dripped his “crown” over these photos, signing them as his last altruistic duty to an admirer abroad.
To be specific: the back of one of the photographs had two large globs of gold ink and, when I flipped it over, I found smaller specks of gold on the picture itself, nowhere near where Harry used the gold pen to sign it. So, did Harry pull a “Viserys”? Was my picture showered in gold ink? Is he so much a “golden boy” that gold dust is shooting out of his fingertips, as “C” offered (only half-jokingly) as another thought as to how the gold got where it did? We may never know.
Probably the most logical explanation is that a gold-ink Sharpie “exploded” as he was writing on the Will Scarlett photograph. Finding it a mess, Harry had to substitute it for the 2010 head shot he had on hand, still managing to get flecks of ink (probably covering his hands, if not his clothing) on the photographs. Perhaps this is the end to the “Exploding Pen” mystery.
Personally, “C” and I like to think he really is that much of a “golden boy.” We have high-hopes for him, and we hope to see his career flourish more and more, as we chart it here on Lloydalists.
Speaking of “C,” I’d also like to return to my cohort, my colleague, my partner-in-crime. Though “C” would gladly accept all the responsibility for introducing me to that angular, green-eyed actor named Harry Lloyd, it would probably be more appropriate to thank her. So thank you, “C.” This blog certainly wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you.
And, of course and last but not least, I want to take a final moment to say a deep, hardy “Thank you” to Harry for the wonderful response and for signing (and substituting!) my pictures. I love them and they are quite at home on my wall. They have become part of my own home, amidst a collection of other photos, pictures, and memorabilia that adds a touch ofhappiness—dare I say sparkle?—to my life.
All Good Things,
K
~Written by K (with editorial suggestions by C); Posted by K~
