Authoress' Note: This story has literally been a year in the making. After I finished A Series of Steps, the prequel to A Series of Firsts, I promised to write more Norribeth. I knew immediately what I wanted to write, but I also knew it would take quite a bit of time. Now I've finished all fifty-one chapters, and I am happy to present them to you now. The story itself I hope will be unexpected and different. :) Enjoy, and don't forget to review! All characters, etc. © Disney

Part I

THE CAPTAIN AND THE BLACKSMITH

Ships' sails whip about in the early morning breeze as I make my rounds around the perimetre of the fort's battlements. As I round the west most corner I involuntarily look to the Governor's mansion sitting high up on the craggy hill overlooking the bay. I am not sure why I do so since I know that Elizabeth will not be able to see me from such a great distance, although one can always hope. I sigh at that thought and turn away from the house, moving back toward the task at hand; only two more rounds, and I will be relieved by my best mate, Andrew.

My promotion to Commodore in a few weeks time cannot seem to come soon enough, though it throws into sharp relief that which I have not yet achieved . . . marriage to a fine woman, or any woman for that matter. It is not a simple task considering the lonely life of most seafaring men and the ratio of available men to women in Port Royal. However, I cannot help dwelling on one particular fact even as Andrew Gillette's head appears from down below.

Elizabeth Swann turns one and twenty today, a feat that does not go unnoticed by most of the bachelors of a certain age. They all vie for her attention as much as their stations allow. None have, to my knowledge, gone any further than simply dreaming about her. She is an angel to my men; the angel who lives in the great house and is always out of reach. I know it pains them for they have only seen her fair form in passing.

"Captain?" Lieutenant Gillette inquires as he moves toward me.

I look to him, and he gives me a sly grin.

"So, are you going to propose to her today?"

He is my closest friend, a brother to me, and I have told him of my deepening love for Elizabeth before. I clasp my hands behind my back and gaze out at the blue sea spread out before us.

"James?"

I turn toward the lieutenant, look down at the ground and then nod my head.

"I hope to . . . soon," I say, and once again my eyes stray toward the mansion on the hill. "There's the matter of asking her father, and I haven't even considered the proper timing of it."

Andrew chuckles lightly and lays a hand on my shoulder.

"That's the problem, James," he says good-naturedly, "You're too wound up about it. You don't need to wait for the perfect time. Just do it, trust me. That's how Rachel and I ended up together, and didn't everything turn out all right?"

I shrug, unsure of what to say. I do not have the same impulsive nature that Andrew does, and the very idea of asking for Elizabeth's hand twists my stomach in knots of anticipation at the thought of what her reply could be. Andrew gives me a sympathetic look.

"Besides," he says, the humour gone from his voice, "if you wait too long she'll be snatched up before you know it. She's likely to say yes right away to you anyway."

I try to smile, but the muscles around my mouth feel stiff, and I fear it comes across as a grimace. Andrew, his usually perceptive self, has hit upon the very problem. In my heart I cannot help having that doubt that Elizabeth will not be so agreeable to marrying me. Seeing my discomfort, and not wishing to perpetuate it further, Andrew relieves me from duty, and I make my way below with one resolve in mind: to ask the Governor for Elizabeth's hand as soon as possible.

"Will, hurry up!" I call back over my shoulder, my hair whipping my face.

I sputter and rein my horse in. She whinnies loudly, chomping at the bit, and slows to a light trot just as Will comes thundering up beside me. He grins at me, looking windswept and out of breath. I smile back at him easily.

"That's the fourth time I've beat you William Turner," I say saucily, turning my horse in circles around him, "I'm beginning to think that you're letting me win . . . Do you deny it?"

"I certainly cannot deny that you are the better rider," he says, and I smack him lightly with my reigns as he passes by me in a whirl of earthen colours.

"That's not even a straight answer!" I cry, spurring my ragged horse on after him as he crests the top of the hill and continues onward toward town.

I follow him at a distance for some time watching how he manoeuvres the horse with such ease. Never before have I seen someone look so natural upon a horse, and yet Will looks as though he has done nothing else his entire life. He looks back at me every once in a while, that wild grin upon his face, and I cannot help laughing and smiling back. He slows as he reaches the first of the cobblestone roads leading into town and waits patiently for me to catch up.

Together we dismount and wrap the horses' reigns around our hands as we walk them through town our usual playful banter passing between us. When we are sure there is no one around to see us Will takes my hand in his, entwining his calloused fingers with mine. I shiver at the contact, and he feels it, a knowing smile gracing his lips.

Mr. Brown's blacksmith shop is on the outskirts of town in an alleyway near the waterfront. We stable the horses and enter the rickety wooden building through the back. The bottom floor is completely made up of the shop, and we pass by it without so much as a glance, making our way up the dark staircase to a small landing above. The upstairs apartment has been separated into two rooms, one for Will and one for Mr. Brown. Deep snores slip out from the partially open doorway of Mr. Brown's half, and we step quietly down the narrow corridor and into Will's room.

It is not the first time I have seen Will's room. I do not visit often, not because I do not want to, but because each visit is a stark reminder of just how different our lives are. I voiced this concern to him once, a year or so ago now, and noted that everything dear to him is held in this one room.

"Not everything," he had said seriously, though I could see the light in his eye. It was the first time he had ever made mention to us having a life together under one roof.

We enter his room once again with much less serious thoughts on our minds, though I know it will not take long for our playful banter to turn to deep conversations of other matters. I sit down on the edge of the bed, smoothing down the front of my gown and quickly plaiting my hair in a long braid, as Will putters about at a small stove making us tea.

"How has business been lately?" I ask, when several silent minutes later, Will hands me a cup of steaming brown tea.

He shrugs and sits down in a chair at the window that looks out over the street in front of the shop.

"Not too bad. We've just finished making Captain Norrington's sword this past week."

I must look confused or surprised as Will quickly explains further.

"For his promotion to Commodore, remember?"

I shake my head and take a sip of tea to cover the blunder. How could I forget?

"No, I remember," I say, "I suppose you'll have to deliver it to my father then, won't you?"

Still looking out of the window, Will grins unabashedly at the nuance of an implication in my voice. His easy ability to read me continually amazes me.

"Yes, I will have to deliver it to your father, though I'm afraid I'll be on official business only. It wouldn't exactly be very appropriate for me to be seen cavorting with the Governor's daughter since I am only a lowly blacksmith."

"Not just a blacksmith," I say, and he looks at me, "My blacksmith."

There he goes, grinning again as we fall into silence.

"Really," I continue, my voice now hushed and serious, "if we marry you won't have to be a blacksmith anymore. My father will surely be able to get you some kind of army or navy commission. You won't have to live here either. Of course, we can't live in the mansion, but I'm sure we'll be able to find somewhere suitable, perhaps farther away from town . . ."

I trail off, lost in thought, and Will sighs audibly. We have had this conversation before. In fact, it is one that I am sure every man and woman romantically inclined toward one another has had. So far our conversations on this particular topic have only strayed so far as actually marrying and how many children we would prefer to have; never before have I asked him to give up his only way of life. We are treading onto dangerous ground.

"Elizabeth, you know I can't just give up everything I've ever known to be with you," he says softly but firmly, "I want to, more than anything, but it just doesn't work that way. What if I asked you to give up all your riches and finery and move into this room while I continue my work as a blacksmith."

I remain silent, and this seems to spur him onward, "I doubt your father would be very inclined to let his only daughter do such a thing."

I nod, and he gets up from his chair then and gathers my empty cup before leaning down to press his lips against mine. His hand lingers on my cheek for a moment, and then he moves away to set the cups down. Seeing the upset look on my face he gives me a sympathetic smile.

"Please don't worry yourself over it too much, Elizabeth," he says, "There is still much we need to work out, but I have every ounce of faith that we can do it."

"You're right," I say, and I get up, rolling up the sleeves of my dress, to help him with the washing, "I'm being ridiculous. All we need is a little more time."

Our shoulders bump against one another as we work, and I am content. If we can only convince my father then perhaps everything else will fall into place. Though the room is small and the pay is low I feel as though my love for Will eclipses all of those things, and life would not be so bad if that were my lot.

"We don't have much time," Will says, leaning back against the wooden counter top. I lean against it as well, my arms crossed over my chest. "You see how every man in Port Royal looks at you. I'm not the only one who has his heart set on marrying you."

"Oh, come off it," I say, blushing modestly, as I have honestly never thought that men other than Will look at me in that way, "Now you're the one being ridiculous."

Will shakes his head, dead serious.

"Really, Elizabeth, believe me. I've heard them talk. Norrington is probably my biggest competitor right now. Just be careful. Don't let anyone trick you into something you don't want to commit yourself to."

I nod, feeling slightly bewildered at the idea that the Captain still vies for my attention. It is not as though I have not been aware of it over the past few years, but I did not know it was that strong. The thought of someone else keeping Will and I apart makes me feel slightly defiant. I lean over and kiss Will gently on the cheek.

"What was that for?" he asks, eyebrows drawn together.

"Just a reminder that I won't go down without a fight."

"Of course you won't," he agrees, and I can feel his hand on my back, wrapping around my shoulders and pulling me in close. "I never said you would."

Outside the sun is rising further into the sky, beating down upon the occupants of this island toiling below. Inside I wrap myself further into Will's arms, reveling in the strength and love emanating from his embrace. He breaks away from me after a minute or two, kissing me one last time on the top of my head.

"I should walk you back toward the market. Any longer and I think your father will begin to wonder if you've been abducted by pirates."

I laugh, and Will smiles at his joke as we leave his room and pass Mr. Brown's snores on our way down the stairs. It is a short walk farther into town where the market convenes, and there Will leaves me with naught but a short bow. I would be slighted if not for the fact that there are many people about who would be more than willing to let slip how the Governor's daughter and the local blacksmith were seen flirting in the public square.