Disclaimer: I own nothing save for my OC, everything else belongs to Mr. Barry. So, while browsing YouTube I ended up finding several tributes to my first love of piracy, James Hook. During this I remembered an old short I had written some time ago, after pulling it up and rereading it I had the idea for a companion piece-even though the original was posted some time ago. While it does deviate slightly from the old idea I couldn't not write it down, when you gotta write you gotta write. And here it is, just for fun sake, let's hope it matches well enough and meets up with the first.
Dreamed into Life
The school music room was empty, classes had ended over an hour previous and still one lonely student stood in alone encased by the plain white walls. She was tall and slender and wore a basic uniform which did nothing for her graceful figure but rules were rules so wore it she did. Many pointed at her for her height, some believed that 5' 9" was unfeminine for a young woman or others nagged constantly that she try modeling but neither insult or compliment remained in her mind for long. Instead she concentrated on her schooling as best she could, keeping her grades in the top five percent of her class to keep the scholarship she had been awarded.
A violin was tucked under her chin, one long fingered hand held its neck, moving up and down in slow movements while the other slid the bow across the taunt strings.
No one else had permission to stay after hours like she did, but the teacher was a kind old man who liked her personality and wanted to feed her talent. Music was her driving force, it made the days easier to deal with and let her mind wander into fantastic places. Some told her it was a god-given gift, that she had been made solely for music and it for her, sometimes she liked to believe that. But there was little time for her to practice at home, although at university she had a young sibling who needed cared for. The girl's parents had died just before she entered her third year of high school, leaving her to raise her little brother on her own and this left next to no time for her music.
Music filled the room with a lovely Celtic sounding tune which slowed and sped up at random intervals. Bit by bit she began to sway to its beautiful notes.
She memorized the music she was creating, determined to write it down as soon as her brother was safely tucked into bed. And that was her life, her classes (and she was a very intelligent girl make no mistake of that), her violin and raising her brother whom she loved dearly. By the time she arrived home the notion of composing was clearly not meant to succeed, Geoffrey had invited a friend to spend the night already. A pair of puppy-like eyes was all that it took not reduce her anger and allow the boys to have their fun, at the same time trying her best to remember the song which came to her so suddenly.
It still played on in her mind, a tune which reminded her of the tumbling of the sea. When she closed her eyes she could swear she saw a ship on the water.
Dinner was made, eaten and quickly cleaned, finally leaving the only job to read the young boys a bed time story. She asked what they wanted to hear; Geoffrey pulled a worn novel from his shelf and handed it to his sister. Not evening having to read the title, she smiled and opened it to the first page to begin reading aloud,
"All children, except one, grow up," she started. Both boys listened avidly until exhaustion made their eyes heavy, letting sleep finally over take them.
Once comfortable in her own room, wearing her favorite white night gown, the young musician could at last write down her creation. On a sheet of blank music paper she quickly wrote note after note, her amber eyes trained solely on the task before her. The song was many things at once, her Irish heritage was obvious in the basic tune but below that lay the story which slowly came to clarity the further she came along. Her story of the sea, the ship she saw in her waking dreams which came all too often when she should have been busy with her other duties.
Unknown to her, an intruder had come into her home, through the window left a crack in her brother's room. Yet she still could think only of the music.
Locks of wine red hair fell from the loose pony tail she had quickly pulled the wild mane back into and it obscured her vision. When she heard the chattering in the room opposite hers she brushed it off at first, knowing for some reason that this song had to be finished. It drove her like a woman possessed, and as she went her story continued on and she had the feeling she had seen the sea and ship before. Some how she had the feeling she had been on that vessel before, like she had been for some time but reality reminded her that not once in her life had she set foot on a boat.
"We can go away, have fun forever!" the grinning child told the other two still in their beds. "What about my sister?" all three thought on that.
At last she put the final note on the final page and a dazzling smile crossed her face. She knew part of this masterpiece had come from the bed time tale she had told the boys, and so she named he creation 'The Ballad of Hook,' after the character who always had been her favorite. Now out of her dream world the voices next door seemed closer, more real and her ears did not lie when they told her that there were now three voices and not just two. Throwing off her blankets, her face now worried, she quickly went to the boy's door and flung it open...her mouth dropped a the sight which greeted her.
"Oh but she's too old!" a boy with blond hair and dressed in leaves was sitting on the window frame. "But she tells us stories, good ones too about you!"
Normally she was a woman of strong constitution but seeing a boy who frighteningly resembled a fictional character who was not just seated on the frame but the part so near the ceiling was over whelming even for her. Suffice to say that all this was a bit too much even for a usually fierce person like herself and suddenly all she saw the light fixture on the tall roof then all was black. Not once did she notice the manuscript was still gripped tightly in her hand.
"Is she dead?" a little voice asked but it sounded far away. "I don't think so, but why did you bring us a grown up, Peter?" said another. "Heard she tells good stories."
Sweet scents filled her senses and it didn't take long for her to realize she was laying grass which was much softer then it should have been. When her eyes opened several young boys were looking down at her curiously, one even handed over her violin in its case to calm her down. 'It must be a dream,' she thought for none of this could ever be real. The boys took her all over the island she was dreaming about, showing her all the sites to see and where not ever to go...it was all very familiar. (What was new was how all the boys mentioned how their famous opponent seemed to have escaped his watery grave by means of his ever present vial of poison.) Almost at once they begged for a story, she obliged only because some of them were still weary about her age and she figured that a short tale might make her imaginary companions easier around her.
The music came to her thoughts again, as soon as her tale ended. All the boys went off to play, but only when she knew for sure her brother was in good hands.
From there she decided to explore the island on her own, seeing what her mind had created. In a cove the boys had told her not to ever go near a ship was moored, her face went white. It was the vessel from her daydream, but now it was filled with sailors who were going about their daily business. For all it was worth she figured it was safe to assume where she was and that those men below were pirates, the boys were obviously 'lost' and she was still holding her precious music. Just as she was about to hurry back to a safe place she felt something sharp against her back and several very disturbing male laughs. It was then that she began to realize this might not be a dream at all.
Her song was clutched tightly to her chest with both hands, her eyes going wide as she deduced who had found her. And the song spend up accordingly in her thoughts.
"And what do we have here?" a smooth, cultured voice made a shiver run up her spine. She knew that voice, had heard it in the books she read aloud and in her girlhood dreams and her fear melted quickly away. If anything she knew about Never Land it was about the man who was slowly walking up behind her and she straightened her shoulders and waited for him to come before her. When he did the first thing she noticed were his forget-me-not blue eyes, they seemed to stare right into her soul yet not once did she look away.
The moment their gazes met the song ended gracefully in a few, beautiful notes. Neither spoke a word, she from becoming relaxed at last and he still in shock.
"Only someone new to the island, sir," she rolled her sheets up and let her arms rest. The man was handsome man was dressed in red velvet with gold trim, a feathered hat, leather boots and was everything she had ever imagined him to be from his long curling hair to his aristocratic face .
"And would this stranger have a name?" he seemed almost hesitant to ask her, his voice lowering to a near whisper.
"Maeve, sir," she replied in her most polite tone. This was hard as her heart was pounding fiercely in her breast and she thought it was going to explode when his mesmerizing eyes turned from cautious to a warmth most would never even associate with him.
"A pleasure to meet you, Miss Maeve," he took his hat from his head in a sweeping motion to make a graceful bow to her. Then taking her free hand in his, he placed a gentle kiss upon it, her cheeks flushed red as he righted himself. "I am James Hook, Captain of the Jolly Roger."
"The pleasure is all mine," it was hard not to openly stare in awe.
"Tell me, my dear, do you like music?" a smile was starting to appear at the corners of his mouth.
"As a matter of fact I do," and she lifted the violin case which she had previously sat on the grass beside her. The gentleman pirate offered her his arm as he invited her to join him aboard his ship to have an afternoon for two musicians to share their love of the art. She took his offer without a second thought, her brother was among his own kind so to speak which made her all the more easy, and the two began walking down the hill towards the anchored vessel.
So well did the two match that one looking on would have thought the two had been in a dreamed up for one another.