Will Turner sat in Mr. Brown's blacksmith shop, peering out the window. Mr. Brown was passed out in the corner with a bottle of rum in one hand and an unfinished sword in the other. He pressed his forehead to the glass. Today was Elizabeth's birthday and he was hoping to make a trip to the fort and see her. Every time he thought of this, he was forced to remember that they were no longer children. She more important than he was.

There was a finished saber hanging on the wall. He wasn't sure who it was for, but he had an urge to practice his swordsmanship. He strutted to the shelf and carefully lifted it off. It was perfectly balanced and was made for dueling. Twisting it over and over, he found himself contemplating how on earth a drunk like Mr. Brown could possibly make something that beautiful.

Will found his center and began doing simple footwork that a solider had taught him. The family that watched over him couldn't afford formal lessons so he asked soldiers for help every now and then. Most were more than willing to show their talents.

While he maneuvered around the room, he thought a lot about Elizabeth. In some ways, it made him angry. Why hadn't he received an invitation to her party tonight? It seemed like half the town was invited. They had been so close since they first came to Port Royal. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe Elizabeth didn't really care about him. This thought brought an angry flush to his cheeks and he threw his sword towards the door. There was a yelp and he turned to see none other than Elizabeth Swann herself standing within inches of where his saber was stuck in the wall.

"Elizabeth! Are you alright?" he said with concern as he ran towards the door. She was smiling at him and he forgot the anger he had felt just moments ago. Now he just felt like jelly.

"So what brings you down here at this time in the afternoon? Don't you have a party to get ready for?" Will said with a little more hurt in his voice than he would have wanted. A sad smile curved the edge of Elizabeth's mouth.

"Here Will," she said, handing him an invitation. "I'm sorry it took so long. My father wasn't into the idea and it took me a while to persuade him. Sorry it's such short notice."

Will took the invitation from her hand and looked at the looped writing on the front. He felt a blush touch to his cheeks when it occurred to him that she had thought about him while writing what this letter.

"Will, are you ok? Have I got something on my face?"

Will snapped out of his daydream and realized that he had been staring at her with his mouth open slightly. He straightened himself up and put the invitation into his coat pocket.

"No, sorry. Must have dozed off. I would be delighted to attend," he said. Right now more than ever, he cursed the black stains on his face and clothes. He looked like a peasant compared to Elizabeth's pristine appearance. She looked so out of place in a blacksmith's shop.

"I look forward to seeing you tonight, Mr. Turner," she said, turning and exiting from the shot.

"And I you, Ms. Swann," Will said when he knew she was out of range. He pulled the envelope from inside his jacket and breathed in its scent. It smelled just like her: vanilla mixed with a hint of lavender.

He opened the letter very carefully for fear that any tears would ruin this moment and he would wake up from this dream. On the parchment was a letter.

William,

On this day, the twenty-fifth of May, your presence is requested at my sixteenth birthday party at the fort of Port Royal, Jamaica at promptly six o'clock in the evening.

Truly Yours,

Ms. Elizabeth Swann

Will read and reread the letter until he had it memorized. He glanced at the clock on the wall. It was already four o'clock! He needed to get ready if he was going to be there at six. He walked to the desk and scribbled a note to Mr. Brown and headed towards home. Then he realized…

He didn't have anything to wear!