The Horse Borrower


No, Will isn't all right.

They are talking about him- he can hear them, voices soft and murmuring. He is still thinking about the work that needs doing, about the bottom of Mr. Browns bottle. He is thinking about his mother and his father and being all alone. He can't hear what they're saying, but the voices are low and murmuring in the way of people who know the inevitable answer.

He buries his chin in his chest and waits. He hadn't meant it, he was going to give it back- they won't listen to him, though, poor little orphan brat alone in the world. They are going to hang him, perhaps- send him away, send him home- except that this is his home, in so much as he has one, and if they send him away then he's nowhere to go but back again, like a stray dog that doesn't know it's unwanted.

He is crying but pretending not to, eyes buried in the knees of his pants so the dark cloth absorbs the stains. They'll show, he knows, but no polite man would comment. Will wonders what it matters what they think if they're only going to send him away, but the thought beings another sob and he's trying far too hard to quash them to think of anything else at all.

Are you all right? He whips his head around at the voice, dashing furiously at his tears. His eyes grope blindly in the darkness, until he rests on the familiar face of the angel that once saved his life.

Elizabeth- I, ah- He shakes his head and wishes he wasn't crying, straightening his jacket as much as he can, puffing out his muscles, grown hard from blacksmith's work.

Will? Are you okay? She is kneeling before him in the dirty hay of the stable, and he's wondering what on earth she's doing here.

I'm fine. Um- I'm- His tongue is thick and the words fumble through his mouth and brains, tumbling inconsequentially around until he finally just asks, Why are you here?

She giggles. Someone stole a horse from Captain Norrington. Father's got to deal with him.

Will pales and trembles, and tries not to let his voice tremble as he asks the inevitable, Deal with him? Deal with him how?

I don't know, Elizabeth waves a hand around airily, not caring much for the fate of those who richly deserve it. Hang him, perhaps. At the least chop off a hand.

Hang him? Will whispers, tongue thick now with more fear than nerves. But- but what if it was an accident? And they intended to give the old nag right back?

Well, I don't think that's very- Will! Her voice rises in excitement and alarm, and he shushes her eagerly. Oh, tell me you didn't! But her eyes gleam with something akin to eagerness.

Well, it was an awfully long way back to the smithy, and I had to carry all the iron by myself.... If he'd been properly tied, I mean.... Will admits this reluctantly, although much of his natural cheer has returned with the eagerness on Elizabeth's pretty face.

Oh! You must tell me all about it! Elizabeth is practically wriggling in excitement. Was it terribly difficult?

Hard enough, I suppose, Will admits, reminding himself carefully not to get to carried away in the telling. I just tugged the rope loose, really. From there- well, the iron was already in his cart, and the horse was easy enough to ride. He shrugs, but her grin excites an answering one of his own, with only a touch of devilry.

And how did they catch you? Elizabeth whispers, leaning so close he can almost feel her breath. Did you try and run? You must never try and run, you know, or they have permission to shoot.

Well, it was a bit, um, anticlimactic, really. Will pauses at this point in his story, and looks at the girl in front of him. Naturally, I didn't run, He says finally. I didn't even know I was arrested, really, until I step out of the smithy, done unloading all that iron, and there's captain Norrington, with that pole up his- er, never mind- and they cart me away... Well, here.

Elizabeth is watching him with starry eyes, and he watches her back a bit uncomfortably. That wasn't terribly clever, you know.

Will starts; he had not expected this. What do you mean? He demands, trying to pretend his pride isn't damaged.

Well, it was brave, certainly. But you went about it all wrong. What you should have done is simply dump the iron on the ground, then sent the horse on its way. That way, they would never have caught you. Her voice is confident, the voice of authority, and Will finds it hard to doubt her.

Unless, of course, people had seen you on the horse, Mr. Turner. Captain Norrington's dry voice interrupts, and both children whirl to face the man. His face is somber, but his mouth is twitching slightly at the corners in what is almost a smile.

I shan't let you hang him! Elizabeth cries suddenly, rising to her feet and placing herself hastily between Will and the approaching guard. From the doorway, Norrington and the two marines look a bit nonplussed, but the Governor interrupts smoothly, voice jovial.

Nobody's hanging anyone, dearest. And what are you doing in this place? He peers around the stable as if he's never seen anything like it, politely interested as if watching animals in a menagerie.

Elizabeth doesn't move. You can't chop of any of his hands, either. Her jaw is set, chin lifted at a degree that would be regal on an older woman. On her soft face it looks merely ridiculous, the stubborn foolishness of a spoiled little girl. But the flash of her eyes ensures that nobody's laughing.

Will interrupts, sliding out from behind the girl. It's all right. I'll accept my punishment, whatever I'm due, sirs. The last is addressed to the captain, and the governor, who exchange looks over the boys downcast head.

Will! Will, you mustn't! Elizabeth looks very near to bursting into tears, and identical expressions of alarm race over the faces of everyone in the room.

Captain Norrington interrupts. Elizabeth, dear, it's quite all right. Mr. Turner will not be losing any limbs tonight, however richly he may deserve to.

This stings the boys pride as nothing else has, and his eyes flash darkly as he opens his mouth to speak. The Captain's raised hand silences the words before they can tumble forth, all pride and independence and blustering strength. However- Mr. Turner, please listen carefully- you will be forced to work an hour a night in the marine barracks until the end of the month, and we will be having words with Mr. Brown.

All right, sir. Will says. Thank you, sir. I'll see you tomorrow night, sir. He nods smartly, and the Captain turns away so that the lad won't see his smile. A bright boy, this- a good lad. He still remembers finding him at sea, in a day of fire and blood and pirates.

Thank you, James, Elizabeth says primly, and moves forward to walk with him. He chuckles at her pretensions, and slings an arm around her small shoulders. Governor Swann watches with a careful eye, but there is little he can find fault in.

Will is left standing in the dirt, thirteen years old and full of sullen anger. It is better than hanging, perhaps, and Mr. Brown will hardly care about anything he might do, and even the work duty is not as bad as all that. But he stole a horse, after all, and they might pay him a bit more attention. And now he has to walk home, all alone, after this whole night of tension and suspense and waiting...

Elizabeth is at the gate when she twists free of Captain Norrington's arm and comes darting back. She pauses in front of him, and stares for a moment into his deep brown eyes. I think you were marvelous. She says finally. I can't believe you stole a horse! Then, before he can react, she leans in and presses her soft lips against his in the briefest of kisses. His fingers rise to touch the lingering warmth of their own accord, and he stares after her dumbly as she darts away again, to her life of fine dresses and warm beds.

She is nearly gone when he recovers his wits enough to lower his hand and yell after her, Borrowed! I only borrowed it!

Her laughter is the only goodbye he gets, but the long walk back to Mr. Browns forge is not so bad as all that. Will merely must remember the admiring look in Elizabeth Swann's eyes, the softness of her lips. And, of course, the utter thrill of riding away on that prick Norrington's stolen horse.

~end~


A/N: There it is... My very first Pirates' story. And it's not angst, either- not really. Please review and tell me what you think! I'm a bit nervous about my first piece of what could honestly be called gratuitous fluff!'

Disclaimer: Disney owns all of it but the story.