Thalion relaxed into one of the oversized chairs in the dining room and rubbed his eyes. He was tired, very rare for an Elf. One look at the others and Giliath knew that his comrades and friends felt likewise.
Elves were stronger, quicker than humans, and had abilities unexplainable by them – all of this made humans uneasy whenever they were confronted by an Elf. But there were dangers even for the 'Beautiful People'. And some of those dangers were the creatures from the shadow-world.
They represented the other side of the world that the Elves inhabited. Where the Elves were beings of light, trolls, Alrinachs, harpies, ghosts, Goblins and others like them were creatures of the dark, creatures that fed on others, sapping their energy, drawing out their potency. The souls of the dead, damned to blunder restlessly through the world, gave them special trouble. Not because the ghosts were a physical threat. No. But the Elves knew that a damned soul had practically no chance of finding redemption, and they were compelled with compassion toward them. On the other hand, they had use all their skill to protect themselves and others, and had to force them back into the world of shadows and darkness, from where the ghosts tried so desperately to escape. Their sympathetic hearts yearned to aid these black sorrowful specters, but absolution did not lie in their hands.
Yes, they could do 'magic', as mortals might call it, and they had authority over many natural things, but it wasn't up to them to save a condemned soul. The only thing they could do for the lost souls was pray that the lights in the night-sky would give some hope.
Sighing deeply, Thalion righted his goblet left on the council table, filled it, and drank it down in one long draught. This was no way to get over a fight, but tonight he felt a need for the sweet rich wine Hook had offered them. From the pirate's common room, he heard the men talking to each other. Hearing their conversation and thoughts, he realized that there was little difference between his men and the captain's. Of course, an Elf would never drink himself into unconsciousness, would never use such foul abusive language as the buccaneers. But discussing a battle, its mistakes, victories, consequences if they had lost, was universal. What did the Eldest say? The humans were a young race, full of faults, hubris and stubborn pride, but they were – compared to the Elves – only children. And every child grew and learned. Or died.
As Thalion listened to the talk in the other room, he closed his dark eyes and tried once again to decipher if the Eldest had been right or placed too much trust in the mortals. He felt movement beside him and looked up.
Giliath sat down beside him and filled his own goblet. "That should never have happened!" he said quietly. Thalion lifted a brow at his friend. The younger Elf continued in their soft tongue: "They should never have found us." The usually youthful face seemed hollow and pale. He knew that he had overtaxed himself in the fight against the thing that attacked Peter. But something had made him cast aside all caution. As the girl's scream had wakened him, he rushed into the room with the two children, saw the white shape hovering over the children and heard the boy whimpering. It had infuriated him, and he loosed his authority as Tirnion, pouring himself out, so to speak, to rescue them.
Elves rarely bound themselves to humans. Not that they thought the humans were beneath them, but because it was too painful for them to lose them so quickly. A mortal's life lasted, at most, a century or less before they aged and died, while an Elf remained young and vital. An Elf could still roam the forests while his friend's legs turned feeble, helpless, then grew still as their name was forgotten. A long life had its price – a price they rarely contemplated.
But with Peter, it was different. He was the eternal boy – eternal youth. He couldn't grow old and die in front of his eyes. Yes, he could be killed in fight, as could they all, and Giliath would do anything in his power to protect him – this boy who felt so much like a little brother. It was for this reason that he was even here; for this he had poured out all of himself; for this he would fight with all the skill he possessed. He only hoped that the boy and the man would see each other in a new light after this was over.
Sighing, he sipped his wine. "We have grown slothful, my friend. We should have seen their approach," he said quietly. "Ghosts always seek out the place where they were damned, and Redcaps can smell humans over great distances, and love to attack places where blood has been shed – a lot of blood."
Thalion gave him a humorless grin. "We don't know how many different types of creatures have followed the call of the Dark. We cannot be forearmed against every sinister creature he might have been able to summon."
"Ghosts and Redcaps require no great stretch of the imagination," Giliath insisted, but was interrupted by the arrival of Hook, who approached them.
The lord of the castle wore his robe over the breeches and had pulled on thick socks. He looked tired once again as he joined the two Elves at the table and poured himself a goblet of wine. "The children are finally to bed." He shook his head and snorted into the cup. "If anyone had dared tell me only days ago that I would willingly leave Peter Pan, of all people, in my own chamber – as well as his little witch – as well as protect his whole gang of scalawags, I would have sent him overboard without a plank!"
Thalion lifted a brow and glanced at the buccaneer, too weary to smile. "Many things which seem absurd to us today may be quite normal tomorrow."
Hook took a deep gulp from his cup and shook his head. "You Elves are most eloquent in speech," he sneered. Then his look cleared as he glared at the Elvish commander. "Tell me, Thalion, were those ghosts and those Red… - whatever you call them – just simply spies of the enemy?"
"What do you know about this castle?" the Elf responded and earned a sharp glance.
"I don't know about Elvish manners, Commander, but I've noticed you love to answer a question with another question!"
If the buccaneer thought that he would make the Elf uncomfortable, he was mistaken. Thalion simply bowed his head briefly, saying, "My apologies, Captain. I forget sometimes how easily humans are offended." Before Hook could react, he continued. "My question was a prelude for the explanation of the reason for the presence of ghosts here. All of this--" he swung his hand in a graceful arc, indicating the entire structure, " -- is very old. Very old indeed! Neverland was not always the island you have come to know, Captain. There was a time when it was dark, sinister. It was then known by another name. This castle existed long before the eternal boy came and, with his arrival, he completed the change the island had been undergoing for centuries. What was dark became light; what was evil became good. A few creatures of that dark time still remain here, giving the boy and his friends the adventures a child needs to develop maturity, to build skills."
Thalion took a deep breath and emptied the goblet. He knew that he had the man's full attention. "During the dark time, violence, cruelty and death ruled this land. Many died here, too many. For many, their souls found repose as the island was changed into a land of joy, eternal childhood and light, their murderers destroyed. But those who were responsible for all the deaths are cursed to wander in twilight until they are forgiven, or until the light of Neverland ends, and they are restored to their old shapes and power. Those ghosts have now come together where, for them, it all started: in the Black Castle."
Hook stared at him, his face having lost all color. "Are you saying I live in a haunted castle?" he asked hoarsely, "that the former occupants of this ruin are turned into ghosts, damned to cling to these walls, and now see …" his voice halted.
"… the chance to free themselves from the curse, by bringing Peter to the one who has accepted their inheritance: S'Hadh," Thalion finished.
The pirate-captain swallowed the lump in his throat. "And I've always laughed at ghost stories, ever since I was a small boy," he whispered, clearly shaken.
"They will not harm you as long as S'Hadh hasn't defeated the youth," Giliath now spoke up. "And when we have all joined and fought to conquer the warlock, they will return to their domain of shadows and twilight and will not bother you again. They will be invisible to human eyes as before. Usual they can't reach the rooms that are filled with life, so they will let you alone – if everything turns out to our all satisfaction."
Hook's head turned toward Thalion as a thought occurred him. "If you knew that ghosts would haunt us here, why, for pity's sake, didn't you warn us?" His voice rose now, dark and angry. "If this ruin holds the remnant of the same darkness which now afflicts Neverland, then why did you advise us to come here? What foul game are you playing, Elf?" His eyes flashed with wrath, while his face colored in anger.
Giliath didn't answer, while Thalion leaned back in his chair, still calm. "Certain paths must be risked to reach others."
Hook leaped up, his thin strand of patience had reached its end. They had nearly been killed tonight – all of them! And this wretched pointy-eared relic had the nerve to sit there in his chair, drinking his wine, and philosophize about 'paths'! Red now gleamed in his eyes. "I have tremendous respect for anyone who has lived as long as you, as much as anyone can, but how DARE you put my men and my allies in danger that you could have prevented in the blink of an eye!" he snarled. "You may belong to an ancient folk. You may have collected encyclopedic experience, against which my own are laughable. But this is my home – even if I haven't chosen it of my own volition – and you are my guests here! And whatever spark of knowledge you might have of anything that could harm my men, me or the children, then let's have it now! No more Elvish riddles! I don't have two or three millennia to learn what you know and to see things as you see them! A human's life is short, and I don't want to waste whatever time I have left by running into walls when there's someone who can tell me where the door is because of supernatural eyesight!"
Hook's men had heard the outburst, and a few gathered about edges of the door. Smee came quickly out of another room and chased them back. He knew that it was the best to let the captain alone when he was that angry. Afterward, he remained near his commander to interfere should he lose control. (He congratulated himself for having cleaned up the bedroom after the battle already.)
For a long moment, a tense silence hung in the room, then Giliath nodded slowly. "You're right, Captain," he said softly. "Please, sit down. There has been far too much hostility around this place for one night."
For a second, the buccaneer thought of refusing the Elf's request, but then, to his surprise, he found himself taking his seat again.
Thalion frowned. "Giliath, don't! It is not for you--"
"My friend, keep in mind why we came. We are here to help and to support Peter and his allies," the Elf interrupted his friend, and ignored the thin frown. "Because of us, they were endangered. Let us not create further difficulties by denying them the answers they require." He took a deep breath and addressed the scowling pirate-captain. "To explain our action, you have to understand that everything has two sides: a dark and a light one," he said, speaking again with his hands as well as his words. "The Black Castle is part of Neverland's shadow. The power that once lived in these walls is growing, and we had to know how strong it has become. But we could only learn this by coming here and challenging the cursed ones with our presence. I must admit, we didn't expect them to show such power. The ghosts inhabiting this ruin are as strong as they are and visible because S'Hadh's might has grown to the extent that they can leave the twilight. Having this knowledge is important for us all."
"You might recall that these wraiths in the walls heard our plan. Good work, Elf!" Hook growled.
"Even if they had eavesdropped on our council, Captain, they are not a danger to us now," Giliath answered.
"Explain," their host ordered severely.
"These pitiful forlorn spirits are bound to this place. They cannot leave the dark of this Castle to warn S'Hadh. It is possible that they only attacked us because they hoped it was a way to protect the warlock, who might see their cooperation and decide to free them."
The captain of the Jolly Roger stared at him, and snorted. "If you have plans to use my men and these children for other dubious trials, then tell us now, Giliath! I am not a patient man, and your finger is tightening on the trigger of my temper!"
Giliath nodded kindly, giving the mortal another soft smile. "I know how you're feeling now, Captain. Please believe me, we really didn't want to use you and your men and the children as chess pieces, but sometimes unpleasant things have to be done to reach the destination."
Hook lifted a brow; his anger still coloring his expression. "You may be a wise man, Giliath, but you and your comrades should have enough manners to avoid using humans as 'chess pieces'. If you weren't an Elf -- and a necessary ally -- I would challenge you and your soldier-friend to a duel right now!"
Giliath grinned. "There's nothing you can say about Wendy and her temperament – or Peter's. You are full of fire, too!"
Hook grumbled something even the sensitive Elvish ears didn't catch while he fought himself for control. He knew that the worst thing that could happen within their little alliance was an open conflict between them. The consequences could be fatal – like the loss of his ship, if this damn island came to an end. It took a few seconds as he grimly took hold of himself, breathing deeply to calm down, before looking up to the ceiling. "So, the castle his haunted," he murmured, while this fact came home to him. "I am not superstitious, but this…" He made a helpless gesture. "I am haunted enough by my own demons. I have no need, nor room for more."
"After this crisis is over, they will return to their shadows," Giliath murmured, comforting the man. Yes, he could sense that the pirate-captain was indeed haunted by his own ghosts – memories of bad experiences, mistakes, guilt and sorrow.
"How encouraging!" Hook sneered. "Tell me, if you are so well informed about this castle how did it come to pass that it is split into two parts? Lightning?"
Thalion nodded. "Well guessed. It ensued as the dark sovereigns fell. A battle between light and dark is not only a fight between creatures, but rages also in the atmosphere overhead. The thunderstorm that filled the skies on that terrible day was the most violent ever to strike Neverland. And as the dark ones fled into the northern section of the castle, preparing to barricade themselves in there, a bolt of lightning, possibly directed by God Himself, pierced it, and split it to its foundations. The northern section – the portion you instinctively avoid, Captain -- was burned out, and the result you've seen this night: the ghosts. The other section, which had already been conquered by the men and other creatures who had dared to stand against their tormentors, was spared to some degree. Usually the cursed souls cannot enter it. You can believe me when I tell you that they will never bother you again when S'Hadh is defeated."
Fascinated, Hook had listened to the brief history. 'God forbid Mullins ever finds out about them!' he thought distractedly. "You tell it as if you'd seen it with your own eyes."
Thalion shook his head. "No, not I. My father."
The pirate-captain stared at him. "I really don't want to know how long ago that was."
The tall commander laughed. "A wise decision, Captain."
Hook took the carafe and emptied its remaining contents into his goblet. He met Giliath's inquiring glance, and smiled out of one side of his mouth. "On my ship, I would use a pint of rum to get some sleep after ghosts, razor-handed little imps, stories of battles in the sky, and haunted ruins!" He dangled the empty container back and forth in front of the Elf. "But in consideration of the difficult days to come, I am behaving like a good and wise leader – damn it all around the horn and back!"
But the younger Elf saw through the man's jocularity. He knew that the mortal man only pretended to be unaffected by the events of the past few days; in truth, he was bone-weary – and frightened. James Hook was a master at concealing any emotions, which were surprisingly deep and intense, but it did him no good; especially not with these two. The younger Elf could feel the rising tide of hopelessness in the pirate.
Giliath leaned over toward the man, and laid one hand on his arm. He dropped the mental restraints that protected him against the alien emotions he would otherwise feel from the people around him, and instantly a flood of varying sentiments washed over him. Steeling himself to bear the raw impulses of the man, he opened himself completely to him – the man who had performed so many thoughtless criminal acts in his life, but still had the decency to risk his life for a young girl, to warm his own worst enemy and bring him back to life, to be capable of true hearty laughter. He felt the bitterness, anger, and lust for revenge of the man, but also the sorrow and loneliness – the desperate yearning for the nearness and affection of another.
The Elf took in all those terrible emotions, and displaced them partially with his own strength, integrity, inner peace and joy. He knew that he couldn't change the heart of the pirate in this manner, but at least he could strengthen the element in him that had kept that heart from turning to stone.
As Giliath took his hand from Hook's arm, his whole body trembled. The energy poured out to fight the ghosts, and now the help for the leader of men had tapped him completely. He didn't even notice that Thalion helped him to his feet and supported him, guiding him to the fireplace. There the Elf captain laid him carefully down onto a pallet the children had left there. In seconds, Giliath was asleep.
Hook sat in his chair, blinking, disorientated, and had the feeling that he just woke up. Coming into focus, he saw the concerned face of Smee above him. "What… what happened?" he murmured, and the little man smiled a bit.
"I don't know, Cap'n. Giliath done t'e same thing with you as wi' Peter t'e day before yesterday. I mean t'is t'ing with t'e light."
Hook had a problem wrapping his thoughts around the bos'un's words. "I'm goan bed," Hook slurred, already half asleep.
Smee stared at his commander. What ever the Elf had done to Hook had its side effects. He cleared his throat. "Uh … Cap'n, yer bed's already taken."
The buccaneer's glassy eyes opened a tad wider. "Taken?"
"Well," the Irishman began carefully. "Ye've allowed Pan and the girl … well … they're sleeping there now."
His commander shrugged, unconcerned, foggy. "They're small, the bed his broad. Where's the difficulty?"
Smee gasped and exchanged a helpless glance with a chortling Thalion, who returned from the fireplace. "His behavior is quite normal at the moment, Mr. Smee," the Elf reassured him. "When we help mortals in this way, it sometimes has produces these reactions. But it will not last long. When the morning comes, he will be back to his usual grouchy self."
"A shame!" Smee grumbled, wrapping his arm around his captain, and pulling him toward his bedroom. "Come wit' me, Sir. Smee will put y' t' bed."
"If I didn't have you …" Hook murmured, and the older man chuckled.
Hook was sometimes in a like mood when he was "in his cups". But the last time Smee had seen his captain this easygoing and cheerful, they had been far away from Neverland, and his captain had worn another name. And in this brief revealing moment, Smee knew that that other man still lived in Hook, as he had always suspected – the very reason why he had faithfully remained at this commander's side.
Thalion watched the two men leaving – one tall and slender, one short and broad; one moving with dignity, even in his inebriated state, the other one waddling like a duck, but with his heart in the right place. 'How different mortals could be!' he thought, half amused, half amazed. "Good night," he said quietly, and watched both men disappearing. Then he returned to Giliath and sat beside him. Gently he laid one hand on the forehead of the younger, to share his own ancient strength with him. Then he leaned his chair back against the wall beside the fireplace and tried to find his own sleep. Silence returned into the castle, but this time it was peaceful …
-----------------------------
Wendy woke slowly, blinking into a twilight that was almost too dark to allow her to recognize anything. Nevertheless, she knew she was not in the underground home – nor in her bed in London. Then the misty shroud of dreamless sleep vanished, and she remembered that she was in the Black Castle, with the boys. With Elves. With pirates.
She took a deep breath. Who had ever thought that a fierce enemy like Hook could become their ally and that she would find shelter under his roof? Sometimes life took strange directions. Only six days ago, she had lain in her bed in London, had a quarrel with her aunt and had desperately wished for Peter to come and to take her away. And now -- she was snuggled in a wide bed in a haunted castle, threatened by sinister creatures and a warlock who wanted to rule the world, had found new friends – Elves! – had made something like a truce with Hook, of all people, and Peter now lay beside her, nestled against her! She loved the feeling of him close by.
That last item on her list was the most precious. Even if it was improper to share a bed with a boy her age, she didn't care a whit. She lay on her right side with him spooned behind her. She loved having him near, feeling his arm around her waist and his breath tickling her neck.
Wendy yawned quietly and pulled the blanket and the comforter higher, for it wasn't warm in the room. In doing this, she pushed against something soft and warm on the other side of her, on the right. Was someone else sleeping in the same bed as she? John? Michael? Or one of the Twins, after a nightmare? Carefully, she put out her hand and felt bare, smooth skin. Who dared to sleep without a decent nightshirt alongside her? Of course, Peter would never wear something like a nightshirt, no, but with him it was different. And whoever it was, who had dared to crawl into her bed, why, he would get a speech from her in the morning!
Next she realized that the skin belonged to an arm, too muscular for one of the boys. Perhaps it was Giliath, who lay beside her? But she couldn't imagine that the Elf would do something like this. He and the other Elves were far too well-bred than to put her in such a situation!
Could it be a pirate? For a moment Wendy was frightened, thinking it could be Cookson – or Albino, and she didn't know which would be worse – then she realized that the ship's cook would sooner kill her than make himself comfortable beside her! If she really wanted to know, she had to take a closer look at him. She really wanted to identify the person beside her! Her curiosity was certainly piqued. Carefully, so as not to disturb Peter, she pushed herself up on her elbow and peered at the large figure beneath the blanket on her right.
The dim light of the coals still glowing in the fireplace didn't reveal much, but she did recognize a long dark mane and a shoulder. Bending closer she saw a pale face and a dark shadow at the spot where the mouth was – a moustache and something at the chin that…
Hold it – long dark hair; a moustache, the scent of soap, herbs –
Now fully awake and fully aware of who lay beside her, she put out a tentative hand to stroke aside the soft mass, and looked down at the face. "Hook!" she whispered, shocked. Wendy frowned. She didn't know how to react to this alarming situation. On one hand, she was irritated – after all, she was a proper young lady, and deserved to be treated as such! On the other, she couldn't blame him for being so daring. After all, she knew how exhausted he was last night, and she hadn't heard him retire as she lay awake after Peter went to sleep. That meant that the pirate was too fatigued to be concerned about sharing his bed with Peter and her. Even a man like James Hook had his physical limits!
But what an outrageous thing he had done! Here he lay, half naked! (She assumed it was only half, anyway.) The girl shook her head. Pirates! Hook might see himself as a 'gentleman' – whatever that meant in his position – but last night the buccaneer had won over the cavalier. Wendy bit her lips thoughtfully. What should she do now? It was unthinkable that she would spend the night here with a strange man in the same bed. She may have despised the lessons and lectures of her aunt, but this was positively scandalous.
Then again, the thought of leaving this warm comfortable nest, to spend the rest of the night on the cold floor, was unthinkable!
And then, mercifully, the decision was taken out of her hands as Hook shifted in his sleep onto his left shoulder, wrapped his right arm gently around her, pulled her to him, and relaxed again with a deep sigh. As the man had started to move, Wendy had lain back down to avoid waking him. And now she was imprisoned between man and boy – a situation that felt … ah … quite … comfortable.
Peter mumbled something and closed the distance to her; burying his face at her throat. A low growl escaped the pirate, and he tightened his grip around her; his large warm body seemed to curl around her. Again Wendy bit her lips, grinning, trying very hard not to giggle. The warmth of the man on the one side, and the snuggling of the boy on the other were most reassuring. Especially when she listened to the sounds outside.
The wind rushed around the castle, howled through the battlements and raged across the frozen sea. It even drowned out the sound of the crackling ice floes. Here and there she thought she could hear the screeching of the harpies and eerie the calls of the Alrinachs. It was a cold and sinister night in Neverland; full of threat and danger, and strange sounds of the ruin.
Listening, Wendy shivered – until she remembered that she was here, between Hook and Peter, safer than any other place in Neverland. Their steady breathing, their warmth and strength made her feel as secure as a babe in its bassinet, and she tried to relax. Sighing, she decided to banish all thoughts of propriety and scandalous behavior, and to relish this unheard-of, deliciously unacceptable situation. Why, if either of them was awake --!
For a moment, Aunt Millicent came to mind. If her aunt could see her now – lying clad in a man's shirt between two barely-dressed males – there would no smelling-salt in the world that could wake her up! Wendy smiled again. 'Red-handed Jill!' a voice whispered in her mind, and at this moment, she liked that thought. 'Rebel!' Yes, that she was, and it felt quite good!
Yawning she put one hand each on the arm of her two bedfellows, and only seconds later her mind drifted away to a pleasant dreamland, full of warmth and wellbeing.
--------------------------------
He heard a popping sound, a distant howling. Lying on his back, there was a weight on his left shoulder and another across his waist. Something was tickling his chest. He slowly became more aware, and he recognized at last that the popping came from a fireplace, the howling was a raging storm outside the castle, and that the tickling came someone else's hair. The soft scent of roses was under his nose, coming from the 'silk' on his shoulder and chest. And the other weight… was an arm. What the devil …
Hook's eyes flew open, and he blinked into the twilight cast by the remains of the fire. He saw that he was in his own bed in the Black Castle, and that he was definitely not alone! Carefully he turned his head to see the walnut-brown hair on his shoulder. Behind that was another head, full of golden curls in complete disarray. Hook's eyes grew wide as he started to comprehend that Wendy and Peter were beside him in his own bed, sleeping peacefully as only children can. For a long moment, he couldn't believe it. No, of course he was alone! He was only dreaming; that was all! Any second now Smee would knock on his cabin-door to bring him his breakfast, the parrot Short Tom would croak something nasty and he would start another lonely day on board the Jolly Roger ...
But as the seconds ticked by, and the wind continued to blow (quite realistically) around the battlements, the fire danced in the fireplace, and Wendy's breath caressed his skin, tickling the hair on his chest, he came to the conclusion that he wasn't dreaming. The two children really were in his bed, and seemed to have forgotten the difference between friend and foe.
One side of him, the one that spent many years as a pirate, wanted to leap up, cursing wildly. How dare these impertinent juveniles disturb him in his own private room? Wasn't it enough he had to tolerate their presence during the day!
But another side of him felt something like a soft joy awaken, enjoying their presence, and wanting to hold on to it. Their demonstrated trust, sleeping next to him, warmed places inside of him that hadn't been warmed for a very a long time, and for a long beautiful moment, he became a normal man, not a feared pirate, hated and loathed. Here, now, during these stolen moments, he could pretend he was someone else; someone he had been earlier, before life took him to sea and circumstances turned him into a buccaneer. Here and now, he could take pleasure in human warmth and closeness.
The second side was growing stronger, and this morning, defeated the first one – like it had so often in the last few days. Carefully he shifted and turned toward the children, watching their peaceful sleep. His wounds reminded him they were there, but that was nothing compared to their former severity. That wonder-medicine of the Elves really was magical.
Someone must have come in earlier and fed the fire. The flames were licking higher, and its golden light danced in the boy's golden curls, turning them to bronze, while the girl's brown-gold mass shimmered in a darker titian. The shadows it threw gave their faces more depth, but also softened them.
There they lay, two children, careless and innocent in their sleep. What were they dreaming? For a long moment, the bitter pirate in him was silenced, and he asked himself questions he had never asked before. What would be if they weren't enemies? What would it be like if they could live peacefully, side by side? What if he could teach Peter -- not enmity and battle -- but things a boy his age should learn? In this quiet moment he had to admit that Giliath was right. He and Peter had much in common – possibly too much.
And Wendy? What if he had never made that list of her offenses, real or imagined, and could just enjoy her humor, charm, intelligence and imagination – not to mention her growing beauty? What would she be like if she weren't a child anymore, but a young woman?
He nearly laughed. Whom was he trying to fool here? One look on her sweet face with the full pouting lips, the long dark lashes and the little nose was enough to answer his questions. He knew exactly what he would do if she weren't a child anymore. He would move heaven and earth to win her, and to seduce her, and that thing with the 'thimble' could go to hell!
Suddenly 'the pirate' reined in the man's thoughts. Why torment himself with such questions? The boy would never get over his animosity! And the girl would pay for every offense! He was James Hook, captain of the Jolly Roger, and not some weakling who let himself be ruled by his emotions!
But …
Here, in these precious few minutes, he could at least pretend everything could be different, and that there was no abyss of bitterness or wrath that separated him from the rest of the world.
Wendy shifted beside him and, to his distinct surprise, snuggled closer to him, seeking his warmth. He heard a sweet, satisfied sigh, and instinctively he tightened his arm around her. How small she was! So vulnerable! Even with the fire, temper and claws of a lioness. But at the moment, she was nothing more than a tiny kitten, and his desire to protect her against the dark and sinister creatures outside the Black Castle and against all harm that threatened grew exponentially. Only after he had pressed a gentle kiss on her forehead did he realize what he had done. Oh Alas, what was happening to him? Why the pain at the simple thought of her getting hurt? Why the stab of guilt at the memory of the moment he had forced her from the plank – standing there at the end of the bouncing wood, blindfolded, bound, terrified and pale as ash?
A low, throaty sound escaped her, while she tucked herself completely against him; her arm tightened around his waist, and something completely alien cleaved through the walls around his softening heart and woke something like tenderness in him. In this defining moment of revelation, he knew that he could never harm her. Never again! Yes, he would not forget what she had done, but he would not harm her. From one second to the next, it had become simply out of question …
Perhaps it wasn't that suddenly, after all.
The boy murmured in his sleep and moved closer to the girl, looking again like an angel in his sleep, and not a bit less vulnerable than Wendy. Groaning, Hook closed his eyes, as he realized that even Peter's presence didn't bother him as it should. Why! Why even his ancient resentment was going quiet in the moment, and made room for more bothersome questions he didn't want to answer and …
The Elves!
The perception hit him like a hammer. What had been the last thing he'd been aware of the night before? Giliath's soft voice, his hand on his arm and then an odd dream of a place he had never visited before, but had seemed so familiar – a place full of peace, joy and harmony. And then he had awoken here, beside the children.
Interfering pointy-eared magicians! If one of them ever dared come near him like that again, he would show them what it meant to --
"Are you awake, Captain?"
With a startled shout, Hook sat up and struck out with his right arm at the potential enemy beside his bed, while he pushed the girl behind him protectively.
His mutilated arm met with something firm, while behind him Wendy gasped a protesting "Hey!" followed by a thumping and a surprised outcry: "Ouch!"
Giliath looked down at the three mortals – two in bed, the third one sitting up next to it, clearly perplexed – and started to laugh. "I apologize, my friends, I didn't mean to startle you," he managed to get out; his green yes sparkling with merriment.
The pirate-captain swore under his breath, blue eyes shooting daggers at the Elf. "How dare you to intrude in my bedroom and creep up to me like a thief? If I had been wearing my hook, you would be dead now!" he hissed, and swore under his breath as the wounds in his arm and shoulder started to sting.
Giliath shrugged and tried to stifle his laughter -- unsuccessfully. "I would have caught your arm before any damage was done," he answered, still chuckling. Hook stared at him, and cursed the Elf with all new original material.
"That's no reason to throw me out of bed!" Peter grumbled, rising and rubbing his bottom. It was no fun to be torn out of a beautiful dream and then land on a cold hard floor. In fact, it was downright humiliating. He, Peter Pan, Prince and protector of Neverland, thrown out of bed! He glared at the pirate, a half amused Wendy, and a chortling Elf.
Hook's icy stare turned suddenly to a grin. "That was just a little payback for your ungentle awakening two days ago."
Quiet laughter came from across the room, and the four of them looked over at eight smirking boyish faces. "What are you doing here?" he roared. Was the entire gang in his bedroom, sleeping in blankets beside his fireplace? It was more than enough to have them around them all day, but to tolerate this, first thing in the morning, was too much!
"You invited them to stay here last night, secure and warm, after our fight with the ghosts and the Redcaps, Captain," Wendy informed him, and before he could retort, she continued, suddenly sounding very grown-up, "and, truthfully, I would have thought you to be more of a gentleman than to bed next to a young lady in such an improper manner!" She was trying very hard to ignore that the pirate-captain sat beside her, exposed to the waist (the bandage didn't count, of course).
Hook stiffened for a moment, turned toward her, saw that she looked at him with that obstinate tilt of her chin – and grinned. "First: I see no young lady, but a rebellious grouch. Second…"
"Second you're no gentleman, sir!" Wendy shot back.
"That is for a true lady to decide, little one, and not a spitting wildcat." He his voice was light – far too light.
The girl's eyes started to flash. "No true gentleman would lie half naked beside a young girl!" she hissed, and Hook started to laugh.
"But a boy your age is allowed to?"
Wendy felt heat rising into her cheeks, while Peter frowned. What did Hook mean by that?
The girl lifted her chin. "That is completely different."
The buccaneer's face became serious, but not angry. No. Something else played in his eyes. "No, little one. There is absolutely no difference. And the fact that you don't see it tells me more than you wish it did."
Not understanding, Wendy simply straightened her shoulders, while she felt Peter crouching beside her, having once again crawled under the blanket. "Tell me what you mean, Captain."
Hook looked in her eyes, and realized that she truly had no idea what he meant. Of course. After all, she was still a child and didn't recognize the new part of her that had already awakened. Sleeping next to a boy was no problem for her, but next to a man was. He needed no more proof that Wendy Darling was far more grown up than Peter could ever understand – far more than she was ready to accept in the moment. It was an amazing new insight, and opened up realms of possibilities he was not prepared to explore just yet.
Giliath cleared his throat and all eyes went to him. "What do you want, Master Elf?" Hook growled, remembering suddenly that he had a bone to pick with him. "Pray tell, what did you do to me last night?"
The Elf raised an aristocratically arched brow. "Of what do you speak, Captain?"
Hook stared at him. Let someone else tell him that Elves couldn't lie! But Giliath's face showed only complete innocence, and the pirate-captain understood that the elder sincerely felt no guilt. But his words seemed to hide the truth. Slowly but surely, Hook was learning how an Elf shrouded things he didn't want to speak about. "You know exactly what I mean!" he pressed, glaring at him under a stormy brow.
The youthful healer smiled sheepishly. "You… I saw you were exhausted, and full of questions and uncertainties. I heal souls. Thus, I assisted you in the same way I helped Peter earlier."
Hook was very conscious of the children's glances, and straightened his shoulders; ignoring the lingering twinges from his injuries. Giliath's words about him being exhausted and uncertain pained his enormous ego. Yes, he had been somewhat tired, but that was all! "If you think I ever need your help again, you should remember a few facts, Elf: I am not afraid of a handful of dwarfs in need of a manicure, nor a dozen howling creatures wearing sheets who mistook this castle for the north pole! It takes more than that to 'exhaust' me!"
Wendy heard Peter laughing behind her, and threw him and the other boys a warning glare. She knew that Hook was very sensitive regarding his legendary prowess. Long before she met him, she had come to understand that the man despised weakness.
Peter pulled the comforter higher. He liked it that Wendy was brave enough around Hook to argue with him. She really was his girl! Smiling at her, he laid one hand on her arm and grinned in his opponent's direction, unable to resist the little devil in him. "Pride wounded, Captain?" he teased the man, and earning a glare from him.
"Shut up, Pan!
"And a good morning to you, too, Hooky!"
The buccaneer opened his mouth to retort, but then thought better of it, and chose to ignore the boy. No, he didn't want to give in to irritation this early in the morning. Giliath understood and added, "It was a difficult night for the entire company. I am certain you understand what I mean, Captain." He met the blue depths and smiled gently. "Unfamiliar situations inspire fear. Only a fool runs blindly into danger, blinded by pride, and fails to recognize when his feet leave the safe path. And you are many things, Captain, but you are no fool."
The Elf's voice was light, and the pirate-captain knew that he was building a bridge for him – one on which he wouldn't lose face, but could acknowledge the assistance he received. By all demons of the deep blue sea! -- he was a pirate, and not a diplomat!
But, suddenly he remembered, his professors had always said that he had a feeling for such things. He swallowed a sigh. Maybe they were right, and for a brief instant, he asked himself what would have become of him if he had chosen another way of life. He felt a small hand on his arm and glanced down. Heavens, how petite her hand was, but still he could feel the strength in it. He met the sweet glance of the dove-blue eyes and wanted to moan. What could he lose to let the whole theme about 'Elvish help' alone? Very much: his ship – and maybe the life of this pretty, tempting little wildcat.
Pressing his lips together and ignoring the sniggering comments of the boys – even Peter's inquiring glance – he took a deep breath, and asked properly: "Why have you come here, Giliath? I am certain that you have something in mind."
The Elf's eyes twinkled – by the stars, this mortal really was proud! – and took a deep breath. "Morning is passing, and we must prepare to travel."
"Passing?" the three in the bed asked in unison, wearing the same shocked expression.
Slightly, John and Curly exchanged a glance, starting to giggle. The sight of their leader, their sister and the pirate-captain was too absurd – sitting there with wide eyes and open mouths. Michael and the Twins broke out in laughter, while Tootles rubbed his belly, his stomach already grumbling. Giliath chuckled. "Yes. Thalion and I thought it advisable to give you all more time to recover. The way through the passages inside of Neverland toward Pirate's Cove is long, and your men, Captain, and Wendy need the small amount of daylight that only will come during midday."
Hook groaned. "I am not used to someone else making my decisions for me."
Wendy rolled her eyes. "I have to repeat Peter's remark: Pride wounded?" She met his hard glance, and gave him a sweet smile.
Murmuring something about 'female charm' and 'witches' he turned away. "How late is it?"
"Measured by your way of counting time, nine o'clock," Giliath told him, and Hook's eyes widened.
"Nine o'clock?" He couldn't remember when he'd slept that long – that is, when he wasn't sleeping off a rum-soaked hangover.
The Elf smiled. "Yes. Breakfast is ready – that is, what the Hobgoblins have left. Your cook is quite annoyed by their presence, but he managed to prepare a decent meal." Hook snorted, while Wendy looked curiously at Giliath.
"What are the Hobgoblins?"
"Hobgoblins," Slightly said. "Little gnomes."
"Love to eat!" Nibs added.
"Gosh, they must be related to Tootles!" Curly joked and earned a whack from his stout friend.
"They live in the kitchens," John informed her, "and Peter said that you'd probably say they were 'swe-e-e-e-et'!" The last word was warbled by all the boys, while they batted their eyes and made kissy-mouths.
Wendy laughed at them, pulled the blanket away, and grabbed a pillow to throw, however Hook snatched it away from her. "What was that for?" she prompted, while Hook gave her an irritated glance.
"That's my feather pillow you're about to pitch into the fireplace!"
"Don't be so petty!" Peter said.
Wendy ignored both of them until she suddenly realized that both had lowered their gazes at her. "What?" she demanded.
Giliath spoke up. "Perhaps, little lady, you should get dressed before you start a pillow-fight."
Wendy looked down, realized that the shirt really didn't cover enough, and threw the pillow over herself, blushing again.
Hook smirked. "Little lady? Show me a lady who'd wear something like that."
The girl shot him a glare. "It's your shirt, Captain, and after you tore my nightgown apart, I had no other choice."
The pirate-captain lifted a brow. "You mean, after I saved you from the cold, I was kind enough to offer you something from my own wardrobe, for which I am still awaiting a 'thank you'." He cocked his head. "Tell me, little one, do you really have nothing else to wear than a nightgown? And I don't mean the leather dress you got from the Indians."
"I brought other dresses," she informed him coolly. "But that I brought with me is in our hide-out and is a summer-dress, so it is useless at the moment."
"Not very wise for a 'young lady' to bring only one kind of dress with her, instead of being prepared for all situations," he mocked her. "And I don't mean stealing things to change into clothes."
That did it. Without thinking she stuck her tongue out at him, took the edge of the blanket and threw it completely over her, flopping back onto the mattress, hissing something about 'pirates' and 'not a real gentleman'.
Shocked, Hook glared down on the small heap beside him, while Giliath and all the boys started to laugh.
The buccaneer moaned and rubbed his face. One more item added to the bill Wendy Darling would have to pay!
TBC…
So, dear readers, I hope you liked that chapter. I thought it was time to explain a little bit about Neverland's history, the Black Castle and why the Elves are so good informed about the mess that happens on the magical island. I also thought this was the right moment to let Giliath coming more in action; and this not only as a warrior and protector, but mainly as healer and wise man, because that is what he really is. I also couldn't resist to write the scene in bed – regarding the whole development of their feelings for each other, what will be very important for the story.
In the next one a new character will come – a new droll friend, who will mix up the whole troop of alleys and I really hope that you're going to love him.
Thank you so much for all the kind reactions; please, please review more,
love you all,
yours Lywhn