Hello! Well I hope I have been more prompt with getting this chapter out. I put some JohnxOC in the last chapter so this chapter is more centered around PeterxWendy. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own Peter, John, or Michael.
The inner cove stirred with people, cramming near the walls along the boardwalk. Boots and grime coated bare feet tapped on the wooden boardwalk pathways lit by lanterns and candles alike.
Shadows danced on the varying heights of stone cove ceiling. Peter's boots rapped hollowly on the wood as he strode, stepping carefully so as not to trip in his over sized shoes. He made hast through the boardwalks past the rum shops and the gunpowder suppliers. All along the wide boardwalk there were these stops where the pirates bargained. The pathways were wide like streets, made of all wood in the dark cove. They stood like bridges above the jagged stone floors below that would be covered by sea water when the tides rose. To light the place, lanterns, torches, and candles flickered side by side. Lanterns sat on tall wooden poles much like the street lamps of London. Torches were placed embedded on the stone walls in all nooks. Candles, the wax pressed down to hold them into place, trailed along the railing of the boardwalk.
A worn wooden door, rotted with holes, was open ajar pouring drunken shouts onto the pathway. The pirate cove smelled of rum, though other scents fogged the air. Peter passed the sharp, burning smell of gunpowder, and then the sweet, intoxicating aroma of an old wine. Voices trailed every which way, surrounding Peter.
The boy looked odd among the burly pirates and the skinny saps. Peter still had the build of a boy, the ageing yet to take hold of him. He walked on, shoulders as straightened and broad as he could muster. He strode with a certain air of dignity, not realizing that pirates of these kinds never had such prowess.
Peter concentrated on his mission: join a crew. Of course, though with this boy there were bound to be things along the way to distract him; and so there was.
He paused at the open door of a pub. The rum's stench came thick and musty from the inside. Peter rested a curious gaze inside. A fairly burly pair of pirates, dressed in sagging rags stood at the edge of the serving bar. One of them threw his arms into the air in a rallying motion.
"EH! Let's fish out the best one of the lot! The daily drinkin' contest begins! Who's up for a round?" His words were already slurred slightly. His belly stuck out from under a shirt just a bit small in size for the man. Never minding the foolishness of this man, the others listened with a strange attentiveness.
"Ay! Who's wants to join eh?" a pirate shouted. Voices rose, shouting their interest in participation. There were three of them so far that had stumbled over to the bar. "Oy. Come on boys! A few more now!" the pirate who had announced the event, peered around. His wide, blank eyes scanned the crowd.
To Peter's intrigue, the man's gaze settled on him. "Ow bout you eh little man? Looks like you could use some ruffin up. Come on over! It's a competition mate! Win, and earn da respect of all!" the pirate said.
Peter smirked, an anxious mischief stirred in him. He found, to his delight, that this was much like the spitting contests. Peter had always been able to spit the farthest; therefore he was always the leader. Another competition wouldn't hurt. How hard could it be to drink the most? Peter had once downed the dreadful medicine given to him be Wendy. Rum couldn't possibly taste any worse. If he won he'd be respected, and of course above all, this is what the boy craved. He was always the leader, and now this was his chance to prove it.
He strode to the bar passing the other drunken pirates, who then all cheered for him. Peter faced the other three men, readying himself. He peered up at the pirates. They were much taller than him, and could likely beat him senseless in one whack, but this did not even bother Peter in the slightest. For his bravery and willingness overpowered any feeling of fear or even common sense at times. He was Peter Pan, and he would beat them all.
Thick rimmed, grimy glasses filled with rum were set on the bar. All the men grabbed theirs, and Peter had to stand on his toes in order to retrieve his. Peter nearly grimaced in disgust. The stingy dark liquid smelled like death. However, nothing not even the smell of the stuff could cause Peter to reconsider. He scarce reconsidered anything. "On your mark…" a man began. There was a short pause. "DRINK!" he shouted. Pirates in the candle lit pub cheered and screamed, displaying some wild interest in the contest. Some even stood, jumping up and down like mad men.
"Drink!" they chanted. "Drink… Drink… Drink!"
Peter threw his head back, and chugged. He poured the substance down his throat, and forcibly swallowed in huge gulps. The rum ravaged his throat, burning like seething coals. Tears gathered at the corner of his eyes. Sweat broke from his brow. Runoff spilled down his chin, his neck, and down onto his white ruffled shirt. He gulped in inhaling gasps again and again. It burned and hurt but he did not stop. He was going to win.
Peter stared at the bottom of the glass. He could see the glass! He was almost done! In one final chug he finished the drink off. He swallowed and stopped, panting. During this rush, Peter had forgotten to breathe. He slammed his mug down on the bar counter with a great clang. "Ha HA!" he shouted, ecstatic. "I win!"
A chorus of cheers erupted from the crowd of pirates. "The new champion!" they shouted.
"That kid beat the lot of them!" another yelled.
The pirate beside Peter, who had also been in the contest, slapped the boy on the back in a forceful whack. Peter would have stumbled forward and crashed on the ground, had he not caught himself on the bar side. "Nice job, kid! Say… what's your name?" the man asked.
"P-" Peter started but halted. His sense panged in for a moment."My name is…" he thought for a moment. "Kieron. My name is Kieron." He said, triumphantly. He had chosen an old Indian word from the language of the natives on Neverland. It meant "valiant one." Of course Peter, thinking of himself as highly valiant, thought this name fit perfectly.
Thinking nothing of Peter's pause before giving his name, the pirate nodded. "Well, Kieron, you're worthy in my book! A man who can drink like that is somethin' special. Say, who's ship you on? The way your clothes look, you seem like a right hand man to somebody eh? You one of Kimorak's boys?" Peter just shook his head.
"I was looking for a crew to join." Inside, Peter's mind was ticking away at a fake story. He was quite talented at this. Whenever he left his crew for adventures of his own on Neverland, he would come back with great tales. Peter would greatly exaggerate a battle with a pirate, or an encounter with a beast. His stories were believable though they were taken to great heights. His charm and magic that he seemed to control could persuade anyone. So, here he quickly formed a tale of his own; a tale of the pirate boy, Kieron.
"Really?" the pirate inquired.
"Ah, yes." Peter began. His tone altered into a pirate tongue. Though, this was not all by will. The rum was beginning to stir in his empty belly. With wits and talent of a master in deceit, Peter conjured a story right from the thin air. "I was sailing from the west when a squall hit me. A nasty one it was! My ship was eaten up by the ocean. She was a beauty. I called her the 'Black Paradise.' Oh yes, she was a beauty. My crew was small, but they were loyal to me. So now I come again to Crow's harbor to find a captain to take me as a crew member. I know the ropes of a ship… shouldn't be hard to find someone. Say! Do you know of any of these scallywag captains looking for a man?"
The pirate laughed a drunken slur of hearty bellowing. Rum rolled from his breath like a fog. "Well aren't you a lucky one! That Captain Morquin is looking for a regular right hand man! I figure a kid like you will do him well. I'll take you to him. Ha, I may get on a good side of that crazy old man if I bring in such a fine lad."
"Yesyes." Peter nodded. His words came from him in a voice thick with unawareness. The world was slipping, sliding. The pulling numbness effect of the rum swallowed him whole. His stomach jolted, the dark liquid swimming within him. A foul taste lingered in his throat from the pirate's drink. His mouth became dry, his eyes watered. Musty smells and dim light faded, glowering in brightly through his vision, then dimming into almost blackness. He felt like he was swaying on water, a rolling tide below him. Suddenly solid ground slithered. In a kind of silly ecstatic manner Peter opened his mouth to say something, most likely something of nonsense, until he dropped to the floor. Face first he had fallen onto the gritty floor.
"Poor kid. Can't hold his rum."
Captain Morquin looked at the boy, inspecting him. His eyes scrutinized Peter in a kind of delighted, almost giddy way. The pirate captain's rough exterior deceived upon initial impressions. He was brutal looking, his large waist, burly toned arms, and half shaven face displaying only ruthlessness. Morquin was quite robust. In his expression though, there was only a kind of kindness that was odd for a pirate.
The captain let out a hearty laugh. He slapped his knee and slumped slightly in his chair. "HA ha ha… oh this is rich!" he bellowed, wiping a tear from his eye. "You say you can be my right hand man eh? Well then tell me boy, what is your name?"
Peter instinctively stood a tad straighter, broadening his shoulders as best he could. He did not particularly appreciate being laughed at. "Kieron." He answered boldly. "Kieron, former captain of the 'Black Paradise.'"
"I see," answered Morquin. "Well, you seem like a good, strong lad. My loyal mate Newkon recommended you. Says he met you in the pub at Crow's Harbor." Morquin leaned back in his chair, propping his booted feet onto his finely finished wooden desk. An empty rum bottle sat atop the desk along with a few maps, some cigars, a shell paperweight, and a lantern. The cabin smelled of rum and dim unclean lantern oil, splayed in mix with the salty dampness of ocean water. The room was lit well through the sunlight spilling windows on the north wall. The endless Neverland horizon stretched outside the glass panels.
"Yes." Peter replied simply. Not once yet had he said "sir," or "captain," as was formally required of crew members below the captain rank. This intrigued Morquin in a way. He was interested in this clever looking boy.
Peter already had the signature appearance of a true pirate; his locks in a tangle, eyes lazily peering about from the affects of rum, white ruffled shirt covered in stains so that it appeared a cream shade, even the scuffled boots. Peter's stance was that of utmost disinterest. Normally, he fought these fiends, but now he was here answering boring questions. This captain served no purpose to him other than giving him a place to stay for not more than a week. Peter would grow, and then when the time was right, he would disappear to the island again.
"Hm. I like you already. You look like a steady lad. I assume you wouldn't take nonsense from the crew eh?"
Peter scoffed. "Absolutely not. I'm better than all of them." He said simply. Morquin laughed again at this.
"Alright, one final thing. Tell me Kieron, are you literate?"
Peter paused for a moment, his expression changing ever so slightly. For just a moment it seemed that a tinge of fear flicked him. Though this did not last, for Peter had no fear. However, there was most definitely an issue here. Peter did not know the meaning of "literate." A flying boy that dominated the Neverland island really had no way of knowing such a thing, lest Wendy teach him. The mystical boy pondered for a moment, his hand casually scratching the back of his head. Well, it couldn't possibly mean anything bad could it? In fact, Peter quite liked the sound of the word. Literate. Peter assigned it a certain prestige by his own mind. Why, of course he was literate! Whatever that meant. It sounded fine enough, therefore it was worthy of being a word to describe Peter Pan.
"Why, yes. Yes, I am literate." Peter answered finally. He smirked, a childish ignorance glowing on him.
Morquin simply nodded absently, still leaning in his plush chair. "Good. Very good." He said. "You'll do fine as a right hand man."
So, here it was settled. The Neverland boy in his guise had infiltrated the very society of piracy that he fought so often. Indeed it was a very serious task, staying with the pirates, but to Peter it was one of his games. Playing the role of a former captain, though just a boy. Pirates were wonderful creatures to try and deceive. This would be great fun.
The ocean was serene, rolling under the bows of the "Red Vanquish." Thin, evening tides pushed lightly against the ship's sides. The sun was setting, sending glimmers of orange and red of all shades playing against the sky. An endless, fathomless ocean stretched on with the horizon. A true Neverland star sunset was unlike any other. The sky made a show of its colors, displaying them in long stretches across a dimming blue sky, each stroke reflecting from the waters. The colors would dim and the night would come on swiftly, covering the sky with a soft blackness.
Peter sat, legs dangling, on the edge of the ship's starboard side. The wooden railing was thick enough so as to support him. The deck was quiet, only a few pirates murmuring quietly as the loitered. Peter was part of this crew now. Perhaps not a deckhand or a swabber, but just a bit higher rank. He would still sweat and toil along with the rest of the pirates to raise the sails and load the cannons. Peter sighed softly, nearly inaudibly. The faint laughter and roaring of drunken pirates lingered below deck, barely coming over the swaying of the waters.
Peter carefully, with delicate fingers, pulled out his Pan pipes from a leather satchel at his side. He ran his fingers over the smooth combination of bamboo and wood pipes lined up in a row from longest to shortest. The carefully hollowed holes in the pipes were perfect, tiny circles. Slowly he put the instrument to his mouth, placing his fingers on the holes. He felt a small twinge of yearning for his island, his home, his Wendy.
He let a sigh of air into the pipes, and the notes flowed out clear and smooth. Peter began to play a steady ripple of notes and soon the melody began.
The music was soft, the essence of it sounding as a part of nature itself. It was scarcely louder than the thin rustle of leaves in the forest, but Wendy heard it. She stood slowly from her crouching position near the berry bush. The Darling girl gazed in awe at nothing in particular, just a mere expression of her sudden interest. Her woven basket slipped from her hands and landed on the mossy, snow dusted ground, spilling plump red berries.
The music seemed to call to the island, the trees, the flowers. It called to her. She had risen from her task as if pulled secretly by a nameless voice. Though, it was not nameless.
Peter. It was Peter. She knew it was.
He was playing a forest melody for her. The soft drawn notes drifted through the island like a breeze from the sea. A soft smile formed on Wendy's lips, a slow relief running through her. Though she had hidden it from John, Michael, and even Dawn, Wendy had been worried about her love. He was off in the world of pirates with danger surrounding him in every nook and crook on those ships. In fact, to be so brutally honest, Wendy wasn't quite sure that Peter had even made the sailing journey there over the ocean. Of course though, now she thought it silly to doubt Peter.
Wendy stood still under the forest shade all through the evening as the sun set on a winter gripped Neverland. The music brought a summer wind through the cold as Peter's magic graced it. Wendy could almost smell the sweet, sticky honeysuckles and the fresh flowers in bloom. For just a moment everything seemed as it had been before and winter was no longer there. Just for a moment though. Wendy stood content and smiling in the evening until the sun disappeared and the music faded to a stop.
I hope you enjoyed this chapter! What will happen as Peter gets deeper into pirate society? What happens when he comes face to face with Scarcosta? Could it blow his clever disguise? Please review.