Title: The Man of the Sea.
Author: Surreysmum
E-mail: surreysmum AT gmail DOT com
Type: SLASH AU: LOTR/POTC crossover
Pairing: A/L; eventually A/L/Jack
Rating: M
Beta: the inimitable namarie120
Summary: Jack Sparrow strays out of familiar waters
Special warning for this part: coarse language and fishy themes.
Chapter 10
"This one too, Sire?" asked one of Aragorn's guard, who had already taken hold of Gibbs as a precautionary measure.
"Small fry," replied Aragorn casually. "But hold him for now." Gibbs seemed stoically unconcerned.
Jack had retreated into wary stillness under the heavy hand of the guard. Only his eyes moved, busily scanning the assembled crowd for members of his crew, or indeed for any hope of rescue. At Aragorn's nod, his hands were pulled roughly behind him and enclosed in weighty manacles.
The Mayor of Edhellond bustled forward in dismay, all bows and apologies. "Praise to the Valar you are safe, Your Majesty," he said. "It is unthinkable that you should have undergone such an ordeal. We were given the impression - erroneous, it now seems - that you embarked with this scoundrel by choice, and his accomplices are still at large within the village, but that will be remedied in the instant…"
"Nay, nay, my good Mayor, do not distress yourself so; I am but slightly injured," replied Aragorn genially, knowing full well that the black eye he sported was still quite impressive. "Doubtless once it was discovered I had been kidnapped, my Consort felt it necessary to discourage any foolhardy and dangerous rescue attempts, knowing that I would be able to gain the rascal's confidence and return to you without endangering the fine men of Edhellond. Now, here is what I would like you to do…" And he steered the Mayor into a short walk that took him out of Jack's earshot. However, as Jack watched intently he saw Aragorn indicate Gibbs, then Jack, and clap the mayor on the arm with a friendly laugh.
Jack was hustled, none too gently, into the courtyard of a neighbouring inn, where one of the guard had hired a horse and wooden cart from the willing innkeeper. It was the work of seconds to hoist Jack into the cart and attach him, most uncomfortably, to the rail. Satisfied that job was accomplished, Aragorn walked across the yard to where Gibbs and his keeper awaited his pleasure.
Once again, Jack strained to hear and could not. But it was clear that all was not as it seemed. Jack watched in astonishment and then anger as Aragorn smilingly dismissed Gibbs' captor and, as soon as the man had left the yard, turned and gripped Gibbs by the shoulder. Gibbs laughed at some joke Aragorn made, and judging by the way they both glanced over at him, it had been about Jack. Stung, he looked away and pretended not to notice. But of course he had to look back a second later, only to see Aragorn handing a pouch to Gibbs - his Judas-price no doubt. Pirate or no, Jack wouldn't have believed it of Gibbs. He had never shown any signs of wanting the Pearl for himself, the traitorous, sneaky bastard.
Gibbs left the yard and Aragorn loped back across to the cart, obviously in high spirits. "Doing all right there, Jack?" he asked cheerily.
Jack ignored him with as much dignity as a man could muster sitting on his arse in a cart that stank of beer and worse, with his hands manacled behind him, and no rum in sight. And he completely disregarded the horse-blanket Aragorn chucked to him.
Aragorn shrugged, then smiled broadly as a groom entered the yard with his beloved horse. He mounted, making clucking, soothing noises to the high-bred steed as he reminded it smoothly and expertly of who was master. Around him, his small guard had begun to mount their horses likewise, and very soon they made their procession through the streets of Edhellond. There was much cheering for the popular King, and more than a few tomatoes and eggs were pitched at the cart and its humiliated occupant trailing in his wake.
"Your Majesty, Your Majesty!" An obsequious merchant ran breathlessly alongside the Kings' horse, and almost bowed himself double when Aragorn obligingly stopped. "If you require witnesses against the villain, I and many others would be happy to testify against him, here or where'er you please."
"Thank you kindly, good sir," said Aragorn graciously. "Should we be in need of any further evidence, most certainly you will receive our summons. However, I fancy we have quite enough to warrant stringing the rogue up from the tallest tower in Minas Tirith!"
Disappointed, the merchant bowed himself backward out of the King's path and the procession inland resumed.
/-/-/-/-/-/-
Jack drew his knees even tighter up beneath his chin and gnawed absently for a moment at the knee of his breeches. They were trundling along a quiet country road, with nothing but confounded fields in every direction and not so much as a whiff of the sea. They had crested a hill a few miles back, and Jack had foolishly yielded to the temptation to look back, catching a last glimpse of the Pearl sailing out of harbour without him. Heartbroken, he had turned his face inland and brooded ever since. He knew he should break the ice with his guards, make a few jokes, charm them out of their vigilance, if he hoped to make a play for escape whilst they were still in open country. But, to be honest, he was just too dispirited for the moment.
Once more he eyed the tall, noble rider at the head of the procession. An attractive figure of a man, it was true, but Jack decided he had never been so mistaken in a man in his life. How had the friendly, solicitous, rather vulnerable Strider suddenly turned into this callous stranger? Jack tried to settle himself a little more comfortably, the manacles digging into his back where he leaned against the side of the cart. He uttered an oath under his breath.
Jack looked over and caught the glance of the nearer of the two guards riding alongside him. "Oy, Dromion, isn't it?"
The guard nodded.
"Think you could shunt that blanket under me arse? Please?"
For all his rather ferocious appearance, Dromion was a kindly man, and bewildered besides by this latest turn of events. If the King really had been kidnapped by this pirate, then why had Dromion heard no talk of discipline for the guards who should have been on watch, himself included? And if not, and the King had gone willingly on the ship, as the Consort had all but told them outright, why was this man now sitting manacled in a cart, bound towards Minas Tirith and summary justice at the end of a rope? It made Dromion decidedly uneasy, and he felt a certain grudging sympathy for the wretch now casting him pleading looks with big, kohl-lined eyes.
"Edlin," he barked to his junior on the other side of the cart. "Keep an eye out for any foolishness from the prisoner." And he alighted from his horse and hopped up into the back of the cart, nimbly for such a large man. He seized the coarse blanket, folded it a couple of times, and slid it under the hips Jack raised for him.
"Ta, mate," said Jack, obviously relieved at the cushioning from the cart's incessant jolting. "Since you've been so kind, luv, I don't suppose I c'd have these shackles moved round to the front, could I?"
Dromion looked at him skeptically, but once again his good nature got the better of him. "I'll just have to ask the King," he said, instead of "No", then betook himself back to his horse and up to the front of their straggling convoy.
Jack shrugged to himself. So much for that hope. He sank his chin against his knees again.
When he looked up, Edlin was unaccountably gone, and a horse that most certainly was not Dromion's paced along at his side. He glanced a little farther upwards to see Aragorn dangling the key to his manacles in one hand. The King's face was expressionless, but his eyes were alight with - what? Cruelty? Concern? Mischief? Jack could not read him at all.
"How d'ye fare, Jack?" asked Aragorn.
Jack turned his face away and spat eloquently.
"Ah, come now, Jack, don't you trust me?"
"Not one whit," said Jack emphatically, still turned away. He could have sworn he heard a chuckle at that.
"Fair enough." And the King clicked to his horse, bringing him right up to the side of the cart, and swung himself gracefully over the rail, landing right next to the pirate. "Let's get you a bit more comfortable, shall we?" Pushing Jack forward a little, Aragorn reached behind him and unlocked the shackles.
The second his wrists were free, Jack made a bolt for freedom and the open back end of the cart.
"What about your gold?" asked the King.
Jack froze for a second with one leg extended in thin air. He pulled himself slowly back into the cart, turning to the King, and leaned carefully, casually with one hip against the side rail. "I wasn't aware that was still in question," he remarked in a conversational tone.
"Yes indeed," replied Aragorn. "It will be delivered to Legolas in Hathfell, of course. Though it may not have arrived yet, as we came back a couple of days early. But I assure you, you will have your five hundred gold pieces."
"In exchange for what?" Jack asked immediately, full of suspicion.
"Nothing more than services already rendered," Aragorn assured him. "And I fully expect that a clever, slippery pirate like yourself will escape our clutches in Hathfell and rejoin his ship. Which ship will be awaiting you just around the point west of Edhellond, by the way. Gibbs will be most relieved to see his Captain again."
Jack slipped slowly down to a sitting position, confusion and relief written all over his expressive face.
In a moment, that relief changed to indignation."What was all that mummery at the docks about, then?" he asked. "Why did you have me arrested?"
"Ah yes," said Aragorn. "I'm sorry I had to inconvenience you like that. So much of Kingship is keeping up appearances, you know, and my subjects have very strong opinions on what is proper in a King's behaviour. Consorting with known pirates is not upon their list."
Jack sniffed irritably. He was good enough to consort with any King, thank you very much.
"The good side of it," Aragorn went on, "is that in making such a spectacle of apprehending you, the obvious ringleader, I was able to persuade the Mayor to call off his constables from your crew, and allow them to depart peaceably to the Pearl."
"Ah," said Jack, liking that much better. "That was astute of you, Your Majesty."
"Your Majesty? Not Strider?" Aragorn sounded almost wistful.
Jack pursed his lips. There was still one thing he needed to know.
"You could have just told me what you were up to, y'know," he complained. "I would have gone along with it, just to get the gold."
"I know that." Aragorn had the grace to look slightly ashamed of himself. "I'm afraid… well, I didn't take too kindly to having a dagger drawn on me in my bedroom." He bit his lip. "Revenge is a dish best served cold, Jack."
Jack's eyes went wide. "You've been plotting this all this time!" he exclaimed. "God rot your bones, knock out yer head rails, and shrivel your liver, you whoreson, cocksucking flounder-fucker!"
Aragorn did his best to look penitent, but he couldn't keep the corners of his mouth from twitching. And it was infectious. His rage gone like a passing wave, Jack started to chuckle, and then to laugh out loud. "Fooled me proper, you did," he admitted. "Bastard. Really had me worried."
The guards, who had approached hurriedly at the sound of the prisoner's outburst, retreated again in confusion as Aragorn waved them off, laughing heartily himself. Someday, Dromion grumbled to himself, someone would actually explain to them what was going on.
"Dromion." Oh, now the King was calling him back. "Do you remember that disreputable object you took from the prisoner at the docks? Bring it to me, would you?"
Dromion repressed his long-suffering air as best he could and brought the object in question.
"There now," said Aragorn with satisfaction, placing Jack's hat on his head. "I crown you Captain Jack Sparrow once more." He turned to the guard. "Dromion, tell your troop that the prisoner has given his parole until we leave Hathfell. They need no longer worry about guarding him."
Startled, Dromion blurted, "You'd take a pirate's word, sir?"
Aragorn chuckled. "In this case, yes." He turned to Jack. "Would you like to ride, Jack?"
Jack took in the size of Aragorn's horse, still patiently pacing alongside the cart. "What, on one of those things? No thank you!"
"Very well, then," said Aragorn. "I'll just share your carriage for a few miles, if I may." He waited until the guards had all ridden out of earshot, and then added. "Jack?"
"Aye, Strider?"
"Flounder-fucker?"
They collapsed together in giggles like a pair of schoolboys.
/-/-/-/-/-
Three times had Legolas dashed down to the door of the inn this afternoon in response to the sound of hooves, and three times it had been a false alarm. So this time he managed to descend the stairs slowly and with dignity, maintaining the calm befitting the Consort of the King of Gondor, keeping his expectations in check, his steps even, and … and with what could only be described as a squeal, he flung himself across the little atrium and into the arms of his love, swinging him round and round in a circle and kissing his face over and over.
Dromion and his troop disguised their smirks as best they could. They were well used to this, and they liked well to see it.
"What in Arda have you done to yourself?" asked Legolas, who had pulled back at last far enough to see the gleaming bruise around his lover's eye.
"Oh, you can blame that pirate over there," said Aragorn cheerfully.
Finding himself suddenly the centre of attention, Jack bowed politely. "Your Highness," he said.
"So formal, Jack," said Legolas, touching him on the arm. A little to his surprise, Jack found he didn't mind, not at all.
"Jack is not here of his own free will," Aragorn observed gravely, "but as a prisoner, albeit on parole. He is charged with kidnapping, amongst other things."
"Oh," replied Legolas. "You must tell me more of this immediately."
"That I will. Jack, can you amuse yourself for a couple of hours while Legolas and I go upstairs and, er, catch up on affairs of state?" Aragorn followed Jack's gaze through to the common room of the inn, where a game of cards had caught his eye. "Ah, I see you can." Jack grinned back at him wickedly, and Aragorn added, "Leave them enough to pay for their drinks, there's a good lad."
Jack and the remaining guards scattered on their separate ways, and Legolas found himself being chased at top speed up the stairs. "Come here and let me catch you, my flounder!"
As soon as the door closed, Legolas turned and wrapped himself around Aragorn, letting himself be walked backwards towards the bed. "Estel, the sea air has made you quite mad," he said, laughing joyously. "How have I suddenly become a flatfish?"
"Flat you will be, all right - flat on your back on this bed just as soon as I get these…" - Aragorn struggled with some knotted laces - "confounded clothes off you."
"Oh yes?" Legolas challenged. He rolled the man over easily, and planted himself fully on top. "Nay, Estel, my sea-going man. Today" (a kiss to the forehead) "you will be" (a kiss to the lips, much too brief) "the fish" (a long, sucking bite at the base of the throat) "struggling and begging for mercy" (a teasing lick down the hard length of chest exposed by the half-shed tunic) "at the end of my pole." And Legolas reached triumphantly under the pillow and flourished the vial of oil.
Aragorn gazed happily up at his Elf and spread his arms wide in blissful surrender.
tbc