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witticasterOn 20 February 2007, Gruffudd also said he is planning to make a big-screen version of Hornblower, and is attempting to gain the rights to the books by C.S. Forester. He was quoted as saying "A&E decided that since it's such an expensive venture to make these movies for television, they're not going to make any more at this point. So it's down to me, I think, to try to bring it back to life."
I loooooooove you, Ioan Gruffudd. I would go watch your Hornblower movie. D: Also, this is amazing. Also, this story is probably set around...1812. But since Shit Would Be Going Down at that point in time, it's basically impossible and free from all logic. :/ Also, I tried not to write it in present tense, but I couldn't keep it from happening, so I said fuck it, this will be a story in present tense.
To young Horatio's eye, the ship is everything he has hoped: so tall that he needs to tilt his head up quite far to see the entirety of its mast, bustling with men going to and fro, bobbing slightly as the water rolls under it toward the shore. With his father's hand heavy on his shoulder, he has little worry of losing his balance, but, he thinks regretfully, he also suspects he will have no opportunity to try to clamber up the ropes as the big boys in their dark blue coats do. Men glance down at him as he and his father walk towards what his father points out is the quarterdeck, but they make no comment; they only greet his father with "sir"s and salutes, and his father replies in kind.
It is a man with a bright smile, one which blooms on his face when he catches sight of Horatio and his father, who says, "And this must be young Horatio." ("Young Horatio" becomes his name whenever his father is home, or so he assumes; he can remember his father's last visits with little clarity.)
"Yes, he is." Horatio can hear the smile in his father's voice, and he stands slightly taller, his shoulders back. That note of pride is for him. "Horatio, this is Mr. Kennedy."
Horatio offers his right hand with what feels like a solemn face, and Mr. Kennedy offers his own hand with a fond expression. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Horatio."
"It is a pleasure to meet you, too," Horatio replies, stumbling slightly over the words. "May I try on your hat?"
This makes his father stiffen and say, "Horatio--" and Mr. Kennedy laugh. He doffs his hat and holds it out to you with a, "Yes, you may. Go on."
I loooooooove you, Ioan Gruffudd. I would go watch your Hornblower movie. D: Also, this is amazing. Also, this story is probably set around...1812. But since Shit Would Be Going Down at that point in time, it's basically impossible and free from all logic. :/ Also, I tried not to write it in present tense, but I couldn't keep it from happening, so I said fuck it, this will be a story in present tense.
To young Horatio's eye, the ship is everything he has hoped: so tall that he needs to tilt his head up quite far to see the entirety of its mast, bustling with men going to and fro, bobbing slightly as the water rolls under it toward the shore. With his father's hand heavy on his shoulder, he has little worry of losing his balance, but, he thinks regretfully, he also suspects he will have no opportunity to try to clamber up the ropes as the big boys in their dark blue coats do. Men glance down at him as he and his father walk towards what his father points out is the quarterdeck, but they make no comment; they only greet his father with "sir"s and salutes, and his father replies in kind.
It is a man with a bright smile, one which blooms on his face when he catches sight of Horatio and his father, who says, "And this must be young Horatio." ("Young Horatio" becomes his name whenever his father is home, or so he assumes; he can remember his father's last visits with little clarity.)
"Yes, he is." Horatio can hear the smile in his father's voice, and he stands slightly taller, his shoulders back. That note of pride is for him. "Horatio, this is Mr. Kennedy."
Horatio offers his right hand with what feels like a solemn face, and Mr. Kennedy offers his own hand with a fond expression. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Horatio."
"It is a pleasure to meet you, too," Horatio replies, stumbling slightly over the words. "May I try on your hat?"
This makes his father stiffen and say, "Horatio--" and Mr. Kennedy laugh. He doffs his hat and holds it out to you with a, "Yes, you may. Go on."
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on 2010-04-10 10:22 am (UTC)no subject
on 2010-04-10 12:05 pm (UTC)