Bluster: to blow in stormy gusts

Dear Will,

That's a shame to hear about the weather. Father and I will be here at least another fortnight before we journey home, so I'm sure from what you've said May will be unbearable. Although by the time you receive this, there will only be one week left before we depart. Today...

Will read the first three paragraphs before he realized his hands had been sweating onto the paper. Cursing himself, he reached for a dirty rag hanging over on a pegboard with some tools and wiped his hands. Smudges appeared on his knuckles, but so far his palms were clean. Taking no chances, he put on a thick pair of gloves and held the letter up to a crack of light shining through the beams in the wall.

El...Miss Swann always wrote in such a way it seemed she was right there, letting you in on every detail. Philadelphia sounded quite beautiful compared to here, cleaner anyway. Tonight he would have to write her a longer letter. But time and monotony were against him, he thought, glancing around at the empty smithy. It was nearing closing time and only the sounds of ladies chatting at the milliner shop next door found their way into this sword-filled prison. I miss you, he'd wanted to write after every sentence. That would have least made it longer.

The creaking door and hawing of the donkey made Will snap to his feet, a conditioned behavior he loathed. Mr. Brown staggered in and hurled a bottle into the corner.

"Clean that up." Nearly anyone but Will would have needed a translation, the slurring and coughing its own language. Brown collapsed onto a pile of hay, pulling an object out of his pocket. Soberly, Will thought, his jaw dropping as he reached for the dust pan and broom. Side-stepping to avoid the shards of glass, he lowered his gaze just enough to see it was a necklace. Three rubies mounted onto a gold rectangle dangled from the gold chain. Will's brow knitted. Business had been slow for ages...there was no way...

"Give it back!"

Mr. Brown snorted. "Turner, take the order and then get that glass picked up."

"You drunken oaf!" an elderly lady squawked, wagging a bony finger at him. She hobbled into the smithy on a knotty cane. Trying not to stare at the hairy mole on her nose, Will searched for the color of her eyes, lurching back when he saw one blue one...and one completely clouded over. "Give it back to me this instant!"

"We had a deal," Brown belched. "The kettle for the necklace."

"You were a month late on that kettle! That makes the deal null and void!" Even her cane shook with rage. "No one else on this entire island would think he deserved pay for being a month behind."

"Mr. Brown, the policy is..."

"Hush your mouth, boy! Last I knew, you were still the apprentice and I was still the policy-maker around here." He fell back against the hay and folded his hands across his belly. "Haven't you ever heard of 'better late than never'?" He snickered to himself and closed his eyes.

"I need that necklace," the woman whispered, her voice about to tremble. "Please."

"Mr. Brown, she could just give us whatever you charged for the kettle..."

"Damn it, Turner! Folks is trying to sleep around here! Be gone, hag, before I bring the law into this."

"They'd side with me and you know it!"

"Then go do your cackling someplace else and leave me be."

Will hurried out the door and caught up to the woman. She was barely tall enough to reach his chin, that clouded-over eye angling up at him.

"Madam, I apologize for that. My master..."

"...is the scum of the earth, boy, and don't you forget it."

"Might I ask you for the details regarding the deal? You could work out an arrangement with me." She seemed to smile at him, but her jowls made it hard to know for certain.

"Aren't you a breath of fresh air from that, that fiend in there. You know, that necklace was the last thing of value I had, but I needed that kettle. And now that it's a month later than I needed it, all hell is about to break loose?"

"I'm sure I could convince him to give you back your necklace in exchange for half of the original charge." Although I should be paying you to not let word of this get out afterwards, he thought.

"Hecuba Shepherd."

"Will Turner," he said after realizing he was hearing a name. After eight years in Port Royal, he thought he'd seen everyone. New faces were commonplace several years ago, but now a novelty as fewer people dared make the voyage, let alone settle in the island colonies.

"Walk me to my cottage and we'll discuss what to do."

Offering his arm, he let her walk a half-step in front to lead him to where she lived. The cobblestone and rock paths gave way to the sweet, soft grass and open sky. A few more hours south like this and they would be in the mountainous part of the island. Will laughed in his mind at how it was still a more appealing way to spend the rest of the day than working on the orders with Brown's snoring serving as background music. Sure enough, the terrain grew hillier.

"Not much more," Hecuba said, as if reading his thoughts. "Hills should be nothing for long young legs like that."

They trudged up to a long cottage with flower boxes and pink orchids growing between shrubberies.

"Why were you so badly in need of a kettle?" he asked, wondering if a witch had led him to a gingerbread house knowing he didn't have his trail of bread crumbs.

"Come in, come in, and we can talk some more." She tapped an iron kettle positioned in the fireplace, a few skillets and pots hanging on ropes above them. "You look so familiar. I'll think of it soon. How long have you been here?"

"Since I was twelve."

"Parents? Or is that wretch at the smithy all you've got?"

Feeling he'd doom Elizabeth Swann to some twisted fate, he simply nodded his head.

"A shame. Ah! I have it! There was another William Turner, strong, strapping young man."

"You knew my father?" His eyes widened.

"I didn't know him personally, but I knew of him. He'd returned that necklace to me once. Oh, a gentleman if I ever saw one."

"Wait," Will said, taking a seat at her table. "You've met my father? When was this? Where?"

"Where? Here! Oh, thirteen years ago, maybe. He didn't know how important that necklace was, no, sir. You see, after the bandits took it, Port Royal had its first hurricane in years. Miles and miles of devastation, the stench of death as pungent as the sea salt. But your father...they were enjoying some liberty...he saw who took it. Once everyone who sheltered came out, he didn't forget what those blackguards did to a poor old lady. He returned it to me in one piece and the weather here has been favorable ever since." She reached across the table and snatched his wrist. Jolting, he made a feeble attempt to pry himself loose, too afraid of hurting her to use any more force. "I'd never trade the thing, not even for food. It was meant to be collateral. If he'd delivered that kettle on time, he'd have had his money instead, but, well, I've got to live, don't I? I had to spend those savings." Like a child, she placed her head down on the table and sobbed.

"You believe your necklace controls the weather?"

"Make no mistake! And we'll stay in this confounded heat wave until I get it back, mark my words!"

Will's eyes veered in the direction of the door, a bright rectangle of light...and heat...compared to the shady coolness of the cottage. Digging his fingertips into the table, he prepared to stand and offer his best wishes.

"So when can I count on you to get it back?"

"Miss Shepherd, I shouldn't have left the smithy. Mr. Brown has probably already pawned your necklace. I'm sorry, but it isn't your property anymore."

"That's the answer William Turner's own flesh and blood gives me?" She placed her hand over her heart. "Dear boy! Give me your hand. Come, don't refuse me." Taking hold of his arm, Hecuba ran her palm over it, a rough massage in a way. Patience, he told himself. The door is only a few steps away. "There's dissatisfaction with you, although that much is obvious. I'd have ruined my other eye if I was apprenticed to that brute," she cackled. "There is a desire to prove yourself, to reach your full potential. Heroics, even?"

"What are you doing?"

"A sense of home and closeness. Well, we all want that, don't we? The winds of change are upon you, William Turner, and trust me when I say the heat they bring with it will be demanding. It will take at least a day once the necklace is back in my possession to end it, and so much can happen in one day."

"Miss Shepherd, let me go and I'll talk to Mr. Brown..."

"Ease the pain of those who toil out in this inferno! Make our island bearable again!" She stood, her body trembling at the weight of her own words. Her free hand shot up into the air. "You will be tested. You will be able to prove your worth, and gain all that you seek...but there is a price." She grinned at him. Backing away towards the door, Will stumbled back over the threshold out to the grass. All he could see inside the house was a swish of her skirt here and there, and a narrow, shark-like grin.

"There will be a price," she laughed to herself. "Magic always comes with a price."

A/N: The last line is Rumpelstiltskin/Mr. Gold's catchphrase on Once Upon a Time, but I find it applies to the POTC universe, too, and I love how ominous it sounds.