Earlier that morning, twenty-one year old Emma Whibley had sat on the shore of Port Royal, gazing out at the plate-like water that stretched out for miles, and thinking of the past. It was at this time in the year – when the flowers were in full bloom, and the sun began to set higher in the sky, signaling the beginning of summer – that she had arrived at Port Royal with her mother around two years before. It was a time of chaos and confusion, as the young Will Turner had helped a Pirate escape in the attempt to rescue his childhood love. Upon William's return, the first thing she noticed was not only how friendly he was, but handsome as well. Emma's personality had sparked well with Will's and soon after they were introduced to each other by Governor Swann, they had become the greatest of friends. There was a time where Emma had felt something for him, but upon realization that his heart belonged to Elizabeth Swann, her illusion soon faded, as well as her love for Will. She still loved Will, but not in the way of a lover. Emma soon became very aware of his adventure with Jack Sparrow – Will spoke of it a lot, and she knew the storyalmost as well as the back of her hand. Now, however, Emma was far from the water's edge and headed to Will's Smithy from her home.
Enraged once more by useless ramblings, Emma's pace quickened as her anger increased. She was in desperate need of counseling, and she knew that if anyone in this town could help, it was William Turner.
As Emma approached the dangling sign overhead the shop, Will walked briskly out, evidently in a hurry. "Will! WILLIAM TURNER!" Emma called after him. Will paused in front of the door, looking until he saw his flustered friend approaching him. "Will, I need to talk to you it is extremely serious and -" Emma placed a hand on Will's shoulder, now before him. "OH, well, Emma…er…I am in a terrible rush! Wait for me inside, I will be right back!" With that said, Will rapidly brushed past Emma into town, leaving her once more alone. "…fine then…" Emma murmured to herself, rolling her eyes as she pushed open the door of Will's occupancy.
Looking to her left, she saw Mr. Brown, the previous owner of the smithy, sitting in a corner, filthy and drunk asleep as usual. "Still here, eh?" Emma wondered if he slept there as she sat in the back of the room and observed all the swords Will had made with admiration. He had taught her to use it in self-defense, and Emma had become pretty good at it. Not ten minutes had gone by, that Emma heard the familiar sound of the Blacksmith's shop open and close abruptly. Finally, Emma thought, standing from her post "My goodness Will! It is about time you show -" Cutting herself off at the sight before her, Emma stopped in her tracks.