*Disclaimer: I do not own or claim any of the places, characters, and elements as my own.*
Set up in the time before Wendy and the Darling children, this looks to preface that and look at an opposite of sorts of the "happily ever after". A lot of stories or TV shows do the "adventures of…" that follow the small fights outside the big battle, the low intensity and sometimes monotonous. The inspiration for this was the idea of putting the perspective into an average Lost Boy.
Tags: Friendship, Lost Boys, Curly, Peter Pan, Tinkerbell, Character death, Neverland, Piccaninny Indians, Curiosity
Of all the Lost Boys and their varying talents, only Chuckles or Chuck as they called him, was undeniably special. Where others were witty, he was outright clever and to top it all off, no one knew mischief like Chuck. It was all around him and always spreading from him. This was the sort that simply had no fears, only curiosity. For this reason, despite his average build and strength, the bigger boys and even Pan would refrain from picking on him, unlike Curly or the twins.
The previous night had been a rough one for Curly, with all the boys turning their heckling efforts to him. Run of the mill jabs about his nervousness in front of the mermaids, his dogmatic insistence on smelling everything before putting it in this mouth, but then Chuck with his casually dark humor chimed in to declare Curly was as neurotic as any of the wild birds. Curly stood, stammering "T-that-that's ridiculous! I'm as-as brave as everybody else!"
He turned to Peter, lounging on his own log toward the back of the circle. "Tell 'em Peter!" A mistake. Peter rolled over to his side, half-heartedly giving a look of pensive recollection. With a provocative smirk on his face, Peter leapt up and shouted "Which of you is truly brave then? Prove it! Curly isn't afraid of ANYTHING! He'll take on anyone anytime!" Chuck turned around the circle, focusing his crooked grin on Slightly. "You hear that Curls? Sounds like the lanky ol' bird there is fixing for a fight… Well, what say you?" The two boys looked at each other, both lacking the real urge to fight.
"Erm...eh….say wh-what's a fight really gonna prove fellas, I mean-" Curly began but was cut off by Chuck again. "Naw, naw you lot can't just sit back and throw slander, not like that! If you're truly brave, step on up!" He was in his element now, the group of boys beginning to frenzy and jostle each other. "Alright! Fine by me! I know I'm not afraid and I'll prove it!" Expecting the usual bravado and clever attention, all the boys expected him to saunter over to someone smaller, but instead he squared his shoulders and looked Curly dead in his eyes. The frenzy turned into a raptured attention. It dawned up some of the boys that they hadn't seen Chuckles fight, not a one on one, maybe not ever, and for this reason the silence was deep and tensions high.
Curly at this point was caught somewhere between frustrated eagerness and desperate panic. Recognizing his chance to silence the strongest voice of criticism he swallowed and stepped forward to join Chuck in the patch of grass beside the fire's hushed glow. Curly could feel the stutter in his throat strengthen with the fear of the unknown entity that was Chuck. Peter hovered over them, aglow with the adrenaline rush and dust shouting "HAVE AT IT!"
Almost surprising himself, Curly immediately launched at Chuck and grappled him down. Twisting and squirming Chuck loosed himself from the headlock Curly was trying to form. Neither of them being too thick in frame, it was no serious struggle to push one off the other which resulted in a lot of grunting and non-deciding moves. As the back-and-forth continued, the two boys had found their way back to their feet where they continued the fruitless struggle. Suddenly Chuck dropped to a knee and hefted with a strength no one thought he possessed.
Rightfully so. Curly quickly realized he had a chance and grabbed Curly around the chest and twisted dropped down over him, Chuck's head now locked by his knees.
Now I've got him! Curly smiled to himself between breaths. As if in response Chuck began to drive with his legs and forced Curly onto his butt. In the same flash Chuck's legs wrapped around Curly's head, the momentum flattening Curly and freeing Chuck's head. Both boys now scuffled and scrambled to reposition themselves with an urgency. The tumble found Chuck sitting atop Curly slapping and taunting him with that crooked grin spread victoriously across his face. In that moment Curly was consumed with rage and thrust upward with his hands, finding Chuck's throat. There in that deadlock, eye to eye, hands wrapped around each other's throat, a new understanding was reached.
All at once the murderous intent faded and was replaced by a deep bond. In a last show of bravado, the unspoken agreement to not loosen the grip until one was actually going to pass out was reached swiftly. As if in a race each boy tightened his grip on the other, which fortunately worked out to synchronize the absolute end of each one's anaerobic capacity. They released and untangled themselves, laying down to replenish their oxygen supplies, all still silent except their panting and heaving. The other boys having realized they nearly witnessed a double homicide sat awaiting some final sign of the end or further action. Then Chuck, having gotten enough air, broke the silence with an off-handed "You lot believe us now, or you want another?" that was greeted with eager laughter by all. If anything good came from all the attention that night, Curly had at last made his point. He too had found his place among the Lost.
As the boys began one by one to fall prey to sleep, only Peter was left with the fighters-turned-fraternal.
"You know, you're crazy, the both of you." Peter mused with a satisfaction resting on his face. However satisfaction simply was not Chuck's speed. He slowly laid back to a tree, seeming to slumber but then said "Nah. That's boring." Peter's smile widened and Curly's brow furrowed as he continued "You ever wonder what it's like to scare an Indian…?" The trailed off tone in his voice hinted at anything but a question. Just then Tinkerbell zipped by, shining brighter red than the glowing embers of the dying fire. "Ah, come off it Tink! It's nothing to get so razzled over." Peter said dismissively, only to gruffly get his loose hair pulled until he had to stop Tink from scalping him. "Alright I'll see you boys tomorrow. This one is looking for some kind of trouble!" Peter gestured with his staple nonchalance under a legitimate annoyance. The two took off into the jungle where the mysteries of the faeries lay hidden. However deeply rooted in place was Chuck's offer.
"What about you then?"
Curly was growing uncomfortable with the levels of fearlessness Chuck had peeled back tonight.
"Don't they take th-that sort of thing seriously?" came the nervous response.
"I just gotta know. Always so stoic, that lot, but what about a surprise? How does one react to that?"
One could never be sure with Chuck, but even as sleep finally overpowered him, Curly was left unsettled.
After the particularly merry night of storytelling and pranking, the boys opted to sleep in rather than make the usual rounds of harassing the pirates and stealing from the tribe...all except Curly and Chuck who had tried to stay and wait for Peter, but only ended up falling in and out of sleep for a few hours.
The slightly unnatural look of the clouds and early dawnlight, cast in odd hues by the same powers that isolated Neverland from the known world, lit the ground enough for the two to navigate in relative silence as they crept toward the village of the local people. It was hard to believe that other humans inhabited this place since the Piccaninny people were so reserved. They were attentive and disciplined, skilled hunters and knowledgeable botanists. Legends say so strong was their bond with the land that a flower couldn't be uprooted without them knowing. It was this vast knowledge and resourcefulness that allowed them to exist as a hidden people within the jungle; one could never hope to find one of them except with a very sharp attention to detail.
Of all the Lost Boys, only Chuck was curious enough to notice one day some weeks ago that the bushes rustled in the opposite direction of the breeze as the boys feasted on a large pig. Only Chuck realized that no animal would be so still after smelling the meat and seeing it laid out like that. That night Chuck feigned sleep while the others really did sleep and saw through a cracked eye a girl emerge from the bush nearly silently.
"So then I think, these people must always be aware of us, what we do, where we do it, how long, everything! I mean that's mad! How 'bout if we caught them unaware one time, eh?" He whispered to Curly the story behind his resolve to prank a native.
This one is looking for some kind of trouble!
Peter's words echoed in Curly's head, backed by some growing panic about the whole thing. He tried to mutter his concerns, but the gears were spinning fast in Chuck's head, so fast.
"Nah come on now, we do it for the great adventure. What's life if there is no adventure?"
Suddenly they broke through the thicket and came upon a beautiful village, so open and yet so cleverly hidden. The boys looked around, lost in the light and the splendor, failing to catch the glint of a sharpened arrow.
Chuck stepped forward. Left, right. Left.
Chuck went slack so quickly Curly's heart realized it first, and acted. As he ducked to reach the Lost Boy's body another arrow whizzed over his head. He heaved and dragged Chuck as far as he could, frantically trying to keep the boy alive.
"Come on now Chuckles! Please, no! COME ON!" Curly cried, dread pushing the words clearly from his chest.
"I've got to go now Curly my boy, there's another adventure to be had." the words wheezing from his pierced lungs, crooked grin somehow straighter than it had ever been. Later that day, the boys would find a clear speaking Curly, a dark bonding, and a distraught Peter. If they were not Lost Boys before, they knew now there truly was no one looking for them outside this circle. Even Peter, who seemed incapable of taking anything seriously, visibly dulled as if the faerie dust that let him fly was itself burdened with the gravity of Chuck's death. Of all the Lost Boys, Chuck would be forever known as special, if not for his rough charisma, certainly for his fearless curiosity.