Part 21 in a series of irreverent tales from my experience as a Tolkien-nerd working as an extra on the first series of Amazon’s The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power television show.
The last two days I spent on set were a joy. I got to be heavily involved, got some nice screentime and had my crowning moment as a Tolkien fan!
We were back in the court room, having another crack at filming Galadriel and Halbrand’s introduction to the Númenóreans. It was hotter than ever, and this time filled to the brim with cast and extras. There were only a few of us original guards left at this point, and many of the new recruits were much younger and fitter looking than us veterans. Given the speed with which the writers zipped through the Second Age timeline perhaps it was inevitable that we would feel ourselves being left behind and ageing so quickly. More likely it was because the production has used so many extras over the last few months that there are simply not enough available people left in New Zealand to fill the roles with their original criteria, so now they’re having to widen the net and be a whole lot less fussy.
This works out great for Dieter and I. We’ve been here for ages, so the key ADs know us by name, and know we’re competent enough not to screw things up. As a result, we are relieved of our duty by the main door and positioned on the upper tier opposite Míriel and Pharazôn instead. The AD explains what’s going to happen – while Galadriel is talking, Pharazôn will give a signal to me, at which point Dieter and I must quietly make our way down through the levels and the people to the front of the crowd. There are two sets of stairs and a lot of other extras to get through, so we plan a route. There is, however, one problem. From our starting point, to get to the next tier down there are no steps. This feels like a fairly critical design flaw in the scenery. We have no option but to start our quiet approach to the foreground with a two-foot jump down to the lower tier. In full armour and carrying a spear. We raise our concerns, but the AD reckons we give it a go anyway.
This is all happening in the background of the scene’s main conversation, and on first take the scene rolls. Seconds later, well over two hundred kilos of guard and armour drops two feet down onto a timber floor with a mighty thump.
Director, loudly: “Cut. What the hell was that?”
AD: “That was the guards”
Director: “Can you guards please do that silently”
Me: “No!”
D: “What’s the problem guards?”
Me: “There’s a two-foot drop here”
D: “Can’t you use the stairs?
Me: “There are no stairs.”
While they reset the scene, Dieter, myself, and the AD workshop the problem and decide that the best option is to pretend it’s just a really big step rather than a jump. We’re potentially in the shot at the start and the end of the scene but not during the actual jump, so – as long as we’re quiet – it doesn’t matter how undignified we look. This is lucky, as the first time we try it Dieter falls over his spear, remarkably quietly, but my laughter is a definite no-no. Nevertheless, liked the seasoned pros that we now are, Dieter and I step down like a couple of wily old goats in future takes, and make our way menacingly to the front of the crowd.
As Galadriel’s conversation with Miriel gets more heated, Pharazôn will beckon me with what I presume is a universal hand signal that all guards the world over instantly recognise as “get these fuckers out of here, NOW”. I realise at this point that I will be personally marching Galadriel of the Noldor, daughter of the golden house of Finarfin, commander of the armies of High King Gil-Galad out of the court room and off to jail. The Tolkien-nerd in me is now walking on clouds, and I’m not sure I’m going to be able to fulfill my duties as a City Guard of Númenor – the temptation to take the side of Galadriel and defend her honour may just prove too much. As the scene runs and Galadriel notices me appear, she gives me an absolutely hateful and frankly frightening stare which quite takes me a back for a moment – until I remember, oh yeah, acting.
I must at this point restate that I knew nothing of who Galdriel’s companion Halbrand really was. Several people I know in the Tolkien fan community rather unfairly called me out for not taking down Sauron in Númenor when I had the chance – trip him on the stairs and a spear through the heart, job done. Implying that I am somehow personally responsible for all the evil to later befall Middle-earth and Númenor. But the Halbrand-is-Sauron thing was not known at the time I’m afraid.
Just before I get my moment in the spotlight, we watch Elendil pass a beautiful gold and silver blade to Halbrand. We’ve done a few takes before it dawns on me that this is supposedly being passed between them in secret. Short of Elendil getting down on one knee and offering him the knife with outstretched arms it couldn’t have been more obvious, and I’m feeling distinctly derelict in guard duties for not stepping in and arresting Elendil on the spot for clear and obvious treason. There are over a hundred people in here, and every single one of them saw the knife. But it looked really neatly done when I saw the episode!
I mentioned in a previous installment that Morfydd Clark’s Galadriel is nearer in height to dwarf than elf. Charlie Vickers (Halbrand) on the other hand is 6ft 3in, so for the scenes with the two of them there is need for a little box on which Morfydd can stand to reduce the gap. She’s notionally barefoot, but I notice the costume people have also added a some extra sole to her feet with some flesh-coloured tape, to increase her height further. Anyway, the box is discreet enough that I haven’t seen it and when we do a first take and I usher out Galadriel of the Noldor, daughter of the golden house of Finarfin, commander of the armies of High King Gil-Galad, I miss it entirely and walk straight into it. In my defence, my field of vision while wearing my helmet is drastically reduced. But I’m suitably ashamed to have embarrassed myself in front of Galadriel of the Noldor, daughter of the golden house of Finarfin, commander of the armies of High King Gil-Galad.
We did heaps of takes for this scene, which was absolutely fine by me. First to get the prisoners across the floor to the stairs, and then another setup to film them being escorted up the stairs. I got to spend two days as a key part of the scene rather than standing around as a flesh-prop in the background, which was enormously cool. Dieter however did not show up for the second day, and had to be replaced. This leads to an enjoyable continuity error whereby a clean-shaven guard (Dieter) ushers Halbrand out of the room but a few paces later they reach the stairs and the guard is now five inches taller and has a beard.
As the shoot wore on, the heat of the room was becoming harder and harder to bear. I mentioned before how hot it was in the court room, but it bears repeating here:
Did I mention yet how hot it is on this set? Fucking really fucking hot, that’s how hot. We’re indoors of course, so there is an awful lot of lighting. There are also an awful lot of people here. There are numerous open fires burning. And there is no ventilation. The little water moat around the floor looks ever more appealing. I see crew dressed in shorts and t-shirts suffering in the heat. I am sweltering in my armour, but at least I don’t have to move.
Only now “at least I don’t have to move” is no longer accurate. I now have to move all the time, and climb a big staircase. Beneath my tough guardly exterior I am dehydrating faster than I can take on liquid. I am full of ice packs but it’s now so hot that, to paraphrase Ranier Wolfcastle, ze ice packs do nothing.
At the end of each take of me escorting Galadriel of the Noldor, daughter of the golden house of Finarfin, commander of the armies of High King Gil-Galad, up the stairs, Morfydd is instantly surrounded by four or five crew offering her iced water, removing any sweat from her brow, fixing her hair and costume and holding up those little portable fans to her face to cool her down. I stand beside her, ignored. This seems entirely fair, but one person at least did notice my suffering.
Galadriel of the Noldor, daughter of the golden house of Finarfin, commander of the armies of High King Gil-Galad.
As the crew finished cooling Morfydd she looks at me, with sorrow and empathy in her elven eyes as she (presumably) reads my mind, and passes me her fan:
“Here, take this, I think you need it more than me. Keep it.”
<swoon>
OMFG did I… did I just get a gift from Galadriel? OMFG I so did.
I have enough wits about me to thank her graciously and go slightly weak at the knees which, to be fair, were already considerably weakened by the stairs. And the fan really hit the spot, because of course it did – it was probably hand-made in Lindon by Elrond. Like Gimli several thousand years later, I am now ready to walk into the fires of Mordor alongside Galadriel of the Noldor, daughter of the golden house of Finarfin, commander of the armies of High King Gil-Galad… should she ask. LOL @Fëanor.
I had hoped to keep the fan, perhaps build a great shrine for it. But costume took it off me before the next take and I never saw it again. BUT IT NEVER LEFT MY HEART.
