Author's Notes: Since you asked…I did a bit more research (as did my wonderful beta) and looked into the lovely Scottish names I've dumped on all of you. Our findings will follow the chapter. EDIT: Re-uploaded to fix formatting.
Disclaimer: Still don't own PotC. Nope.
Chapter 25: Patching Up, Part I
A whistled shanty was on the tip of Ian's tongue as he reached the end of another hallway, keeping his eyes open for any trace of her. Rhona had found most of the family members and gently told them that Kendra had slipped her companion for the evening. While it was obvious the newfound relative was gradually becoming more comfortable with the family, no one doubted she wouldn't try to run back to her crew at the first opportunity. He'd chosen to take the west corridor and anything in that general vicinity. Nothing had been out of the ordinary yet, but Ian wasn't exactly sure what to expect from Kendra anyway. She didn't seem the type to leave a trail when she was intent on hiding.
Ian never expected to hear pounding boots and he never anticipated to have Kendra round the corner and collide with him. He steadied himself first, having heard her approach before he saw her. He caught her shoulders to keep her from stumbling too far back. "Kin?"
For a moment he almost didn't recognize her. Her breathing was frantic, her eyes looking around wildly and she kept grabbing at her right hip – no doubt where her cutlass would have been. All of the control and self assurance he had seen in spades was gone.
"Kin, what are yeh–"
"Ian," she jerked her eyes up to him. "Good to see you, but I have to keep going. Place to go, things to do."
"Wait, wait, Kin." He squeezed her shoulders a little tighter and leaned closer. "Somehin' startled yeh, what was it?"
"Really, Ian, I have to get moving…" she trailed off and darted her eyes away, not wanting to see the concern on his face. She didn't want to look so distressed. She knew it shouldn't have thrown her off that badly. But her body refused to calm. Her heart was still racing.
"Woah, Kin." Ian's voice softened and he slung his arm over her shoulders, turning her to go back in the direction she'd come from. "Best t'get this sorted out. Now tell me, what startled yeh?"
"Nothin'," she tried to turn back around but found Ian's grip tightening just enough to prevent her. "Nothin' to bother with."
"Well, it's botherin' yeh still, Kin." He kept most of his focus on her face and the stiffness of her shoulders. Ian personally couldn't fathom what would frighten her this badly, but one never knew what strange phobias a person could have.
"Just…nothin'." She looked to the side and despite the direction they were heading – would that woman stare at her the same way with Ian there, she wondered – her heart was slowing down. Her breath was coming easier and she found herself wanting to tell him.
"This just nothin' sure is makin' yer heart race." He smiled and pulled her a little closer, "Sure yeh don't wanna tell meh?"
"A painting," she murmured, keeping her face firmly down and unconsciously grabbing for her cutlass again.
Ian tilted his head a little and watched her face. He knew this house quite well, he helped build part of it, but he couldn't think of any paintings with depictions gruesome enough to make a pirate flee. The only paintings down this hall were of the family. Of his brothers and Marcail. His eyes widened a little. Marcail.
"What about it bothered yeh?" He didn't dare to say that it had scared her. "Made yeh think 'bout things yeh dinnae like?" From the way she squirmed Ian knew he was right. "What startled yeh? A face?"
"She…looked like me." Kendra whispered, glancing up at Ian before nervously rubbing one of her arms.
Ian nodded and waited for her to continue. When it was apparent she wanted to say nothing else, he squeezed her shoulder once and kept moving towards the room he was sure she'd fled earlier. "Tis a lil' frightnen' to see yerself in someone else, eh?"
She nodded, still rubbing her arm. "Wasn't right. She's not supposed to look like me."
"Yeh thought Filib was a liar?" Ian laughed and pulled her closer again, if only because she had gotten stiff. "C'mon, let's go meet Marcail, hm?"
"I'd rather not," Kendra gripped her arm and looked away anxiously. The thought of going back into that room sent chills down her spine. A painting wasn't supposed to hold that much power. She wasn't supposed to be part of this family. She wasn't…
A lot of things had not gone according to plan. Not since Alex had begun spouting off flowery words at her. But Ian kept moving and she was stuck at his side. No matter how comforting and calming his arm and soft voice was, Kendra felt herself tense as the doors were once again in sight.
"She can't bite yeh, nawt anymore," Ian slowed his pace as Kendra stayed ominously silent. "Yeh really were given the willies tha' bad?"
"I've ne'er run from a painting." She paused, hoping to regain her bearings. "But this one…" Kendra shook her head. "She was lookin' right at me."
He squeezed her shoulder again. "C'mon. I'll keep Marcail in check for yeh. She always liked me." Ian took the last few steps to the doors and gave Kendra a glance before gripping the handle and opening it. "See, nothin' attackin' us."
Kendra squirmed again. She knew she must look like a foolish child, shying away from nothing more than oil and colors. But those eyes… she swallowed hard and nodded. Fleeing was always an option and she would resort to it if she must, but perhaps having Ian there – he did have a penchant for keeping her remarkably calm – would make it tolerable.
He led her in a bit further, keeping the door open in case she felt cloistered. He hadn't anticipated finding Kendra and was even more surprised to find her in such a state. How much of her childhood had been haunted by never knowing her mother? Ian was starting to wonder about that.
"It's there," she waved a hand and then lowered her eyes, hoping that the painting wouldn't affect her if she didn't look at it. Though it certainly didn't help with her memory being so fresh and her having stared at it for so long.
"Ah, lil' Marcail." Ian smiled and looked down at Kendra. He refused to let her cowering affect him and continued. "Filib told yeh 'bout her, didn't he?"
"He did," Kendra kept her eyes firmly on the table to her left, though she could've sworn the woman's lips were curling up more.
"She could be a royal pain when she wished," he paused when Kendra froze and looked up at him. "Filib likely ne'er saw it tha' way. Nay, he and she were always too busy gallivantin' 'bout t'know how it could irritate the rest of us."
"You covered for her slipping out?" Kendra asked in a whisper, daring to look at Ian, though not the painting.
Ian nodded, loosening his grip a little as it felt like she was finally calming down. "An' she went out far more of'en after meetin' Aidan. That man," he shook his head and laughed. "King o'the rogues."
"Rogues?" Kendra looked to him curiously before darting her eyes to the woman for a moment. "Filib did say that Aidan was skilled at fist fighting."
"The bloody man could drink me under the table, too." The door creaked open even wider, revealing an amused Filib. "Presentin' Kin 'ere t'her mam?"
Kendra stiffened and was grateful for the warmth from Ian's arm. She trusted both of these men, far more than her other uncle, but Filib's words did nothing for her at the moment.
"She got skittish 'fore. Figgered it was time for a proper one. Eh, Kin?" Ian pulled her to him again, smiling even broader in the hopes the stiffness would ease out of her shoulders.
"Our lil' Kin skittish?" Filib shook his head and stopped beside her, clicking his tongue once. "Marcail is harmless. Though Boyd t'would love t'pick at yeh."
Ian scoffed. "And Kin would knock him good."
Kendra found herself too busy looking between the two men and straining to remember names and facts to have the woman's coy smile disturb her.
"Hah! If Kin could even reach 'is head."
"How tall is he?" she asked. "I struck Alex in the eye and he's taller than you, Filib."
Both men exchanged a glance and then Filib laughed.
"Boyd's doomed. He's even shorter than me."
"Definitely doomed," Kendra echoed, trying to force a smile.
"I've told yeh 'bout Marcail 'fore, but tis there anything more yeh want t'know?" Filib cocked his head and gestured to the painting, softening his smile a little. He hadn't thought Kendra would need any coddling – nor that she would respond well to it – but with the way she was letting Ian hold onto her, Filib was beginning to doubt his earlier assumption.
"Well," she darted her eyes to the woman and then firmly away. "Perhaps I should hear what Aidan was like. I haven't heard much about him."
"Oh, 'ere we go," Ian sighed and shook his head. "Prepare yerself for stories from the glory days, Kin."
"I am nawt tha' nostalgic," Filib frowned and crossed his arms, pausing to collect his thoughts. "A rather attractive man, nawt bad on the eye. Third son o'the Gordon clan head." He nodded and closed his eyes, smiling as the memories washed over him. "T'was quite a'shock t'Marcail when she met 'im in the rain with a vagabond and later found 'im on the dance floor. Hah, the man sure could play both sides and look perfectly at ease."
Kendra turned to regard Filib, sparing the painting another glance. "Aidan could fit in the nobles as well as the rogues?"
"Aye, but make no mistake, plenty o'folk knew who 'e was. His own faither ne'er was the wiser, even when Aidan spent so much o'is family's coin on the poor. Aidan couldn't stand by an' watch people 'e loved so much starve."
Kendra's stomach twisted at the wording. Skipped meals, sparse servings, saying she was plotting the course instead of eating… She blinked away the memory and nodded, looking to the painting again. Somehow, with both of these men here Marcail's figure wasn't so intimidating. Though her eyes still seemed to focus intently on Kendra.
For a moment she almost looked compassionate. Kendra quickly returned her eyes to Filib.
"No amazing stories about the king o'rogues?" she said.
"Ah, we'd be here all evenin' an' perhaps past the breakfast bell, best nawt t'get 'im started." Ian laughed and watched Kendra closely. "Who was this Alex fellow yeh mentioned?" He glanced over at Filib and smiled a little more as Filib nodded.
"No one," she pulled out of Ian's grip, starting to move towards the door. "Just a friend of a friend." Kendra couldn't believe she'd let his name slip out. She hadn't said it since Finnan forced it out of her.
"Woah there, Kin, woah." Ian caught up to Kendra first, loosening his hold on her shoulder when he could see her tense. "Did he get on yer bad side?"
"Worse than that," she murmured and gently pushed off Ian's hand. "Just a git I don't want to think about, all right?" Kendra looked back at both men and sighed. "Rhona's probably stark mad about me by now. It wouldn't do to let her fester."
"Aye, then I'll be the one to soothe 'er," Filib smiled and gently pushed Kendra forward. "That bed o'yers ain't half bad neither."
Ian's laugh and Kendra's grumbles echoed down the hall as she let herself be herded back.
"Where did yeh learn ta shoe, Ian? The poor beast is miserable!" Caoimhe crossed her arms and huffed at her husband.
"I's handlin' 'er jus' fine, dear," he sighed and looked to Kendra. "She's not usually this bad."
"Ian MacLeod!" she huffed before Kendra could reply. "Are you accusing me of bein' a terrible wife?"
"Nay, just a nag." He gave a cheeky grin and continued tapping in nails in the tan's mare's hind shoe.
Kendra saw the conversation going nowhere and smiled weakly. "Ah, I think he's doing a fine job. Just need to keep her calm, that's all." She stepped up and began to pet the horse's muzzle. The mare instantly leaned into it and stopped struggling against Ian so much.
"I'd ne'er thought yeh was good with beasts, Kin," Ian looked up from his work.
Kendra shrugged and continued petting the horse's muzzle. "I wasn't until recently. Used to hate horses, actually."
"Tha'so?" Caoimhe asked, stepping closer and joining in the stroking, both of them listening to Ian tap in the last nail for that shoe.
"Aye," she smiled and began stroking around the mare's ears as the horse demanded more attention, practically shoving her head into Kendra's chest. "I rode one for the time first time oh, less than a year ago."
Ian spared her another glance and set down the hoof before moving to the next leg and gently sliding his hand down the foreleg to coax her to lift it. "Why the sudden change a'heart?"
"I like riding them," she laughed as the mare started to nibble on her shirt sleeve, gently extricating it. "I was desperate to get out of the house and Al-" she cut herself off and then bit her lip, swallowing hard before continuing again. "Alex spent the afternoon with me. Taught me to ride Lucy; short for Lucifer, actually."
Ian and Caoimhe shared a glance while Kendra continued to look at the mare. The issue of just what this man meant to her was wise to skirt around for the time being. It wouldn't do to push her too hard too fast.
"A horse named Lucifer?" Caoimhe asked, "And yeh called 'im Lucy? Poor thing must've felt wronged."
Kendra shrugged. "Seemed to fit better, Lucy didn't have a mean bone in his body. And he looked a lot like this one." She rubbed a little more vigorously and earned herself a soft snort of delight.
"Ah, tha's Annabell fer yeh. Real beauty, ain't she?" He finished the shoe and set down the mare's leg, shaking his head and straightening. "I'll take her back, if yeh ladies dinnae mind?"
"Real beauty," Kendra agreed, giving the horse a final stroke before letting Ian lead her back to the stall reserved for customer's horses. She took the moment alone with Caoimhe to examine the woman's attire closer. Mingled with the grease stains were patches of flour and other unknown substances. She couldn't help the smirk that emerged. "What were you cooking this time? I doubt I want to eat the recipe that calls for a dribble of grease."
How Kendra barely flinched at being pulled into a chiding embrace was testament to how tolerant she'd grown of the couple.
"A batch of cakes made specially fer yeh, Kin, drizzled with grease an' a side a'coal. Mighty tasty."
"Oi!" Kendra tried to pry a way out, but nothing presented itself besides the truly painful methods and Caoimhe's grip was no true threat. She didn't want to hurt her.
"So yeh's seen that paintin' a'Marcail and her brothers, Kin dear?" Caoimhe beamed and pulled Kendra even closer to her before loosening and having her arm linger on the smaller woman's shoulders.
"I did," Kendra glanced back as Ian was returning from the stall.
"Ain't she a righ' beauty?" she shook her head and went over to fuss at Ian's hair a moment before kissing him and smiling back at Kendra. "Yeh should be glad to 'ave yer mam's looks."
Kendra's eyes lowered to the floor before she replied. "She certainly wasn't ugly."
"Aye, nawt an ugly bit'a 'er," Caoimhe nodded.
"Yeh certainly dinnae see 'er when she 'ad a point ta make." Rhona had slipped inside the makeshift smithy and stable and smiled at the women before looking back to the ground, carefully coming a few steps closer.
Kendra resisted showing too much disappointment and merely watched Ian approach them again, now finished with Annabell.
The older woman smiled at Rhona, turning to face her properly, bringing Kendra with her. "Rhona dear? Wha'are yeh doin' down 'ere? Come t'snatch Kin from us already?"
"Alistair is callin' fer 'er," Rhona smiled and shied away from a table covered in wood shavings and a fair amount of spilled grease. "Come along then, Kin. Shan't keep 'im waitin'."
"No." Kendra crossed her arms and held her ground. "I already saw him this morning, doesn't the man have anything better to do with his time? Let him be entertained by his other relatives."
"Kin," Rhona frowned and only managed to look composed for a moment before she took a step forward and then quickly sidestepped around a pile of questionable substance, ducking her head under some hanging tools and cringing as she had put her hand on a counter sprinkled liberally with dirt. "Come now, tis best t'just get on with it."
"I still refuse," Kendra watched Rhona rub her hands together anxiously. It amused her to watch the normally composed woman stand completely outside her element, but she was not about to let herself be bullied so easily. She narrowed her eyes and held her ground.
Husband and wife shared a glance before Caoimhe squeezed Kendra's shoulders and smiled softly at her. "Ian's work ain't gonna slip away without yeh, Kin dear. An' we all want yeh t'spend time with Alistair. T'won't hart yeh t'see him again, will it?"
They were all teaming up against her, but she could see why. This man was their patriarch and while she found the visits sometimes grating and obnoxious, she was slowly gaining a grudging respect for him. The parallels she drew between the MacLeod clan and the Morgan family also sped her along her path to toleration. Kendra looked back at Ian. When he smiled and nodded Kendra sighed and stepped out of Caoimhe's hands.
"Fine, I'll go. Let's get this thing over with." Kendra nodded once at the couple and then walked past Rhona, smirking a little to herself as she listened to her aunt struggle to walk normally in the non-polished environment. If nothing else, hearing the woman actually squeak at something would get her through her chat with Alistair.
Kendra was beginning to wonder what having time to herself was like. It felt like ages since she'd had more than the time to collapse on her bed and drift to sleep alone. She was beginning to let herself admit the MacLeod family was enjoyable company, though she still scowled plenty at Conall and simply avoided Lachina. They were amusing to watch at meal times, but only because the man was so hounded by the woman. And Kendra couldn't even begin to fathom why.
Yes, her voice was grating and she droned on and on, but couldn't he simply silence her and be done with it? Rhona's smirk when Kendra asked her that made her wonder if Conall had tried – and failed – in the past. Perhaps Lachina had some sort of strength to her after all.
"Auntie Kin," whined Timothy as he tugged on her sleeve. "What 'appened next? Did the witch get them?"
She smiled and leaned forward again, slipping back into her story-telling mindset. "Aye, the witch 'ad 'em in 'er grasp. An' she intended on eatin' 'em, down to them's little bones in the toes." Her smirk grew as even her most stalwart nephews let out an involuntary gasp. Somehow, she'd gained an audience with her younger nieces and nephews in the small library the MacLeods boasted.
At first it had been her refuge, but the children had found her there one afternoon and then plagued her with questions about the book she was reading. It happened to be particularly exciting and what started as a simple explanation turned into a ritual gathering.
At least she still got to read.
It was a quick finish to the tale, Kendra hadn't been as impressed with this particular fairy tale, and with her finale, came the clamoring for more. At least the nephews did. Most of her nieces were either huddled together and whispering and one of the youngest, Anna, had crawled up onto Kendra's lap and trembled with murmurs of how the witch would come after her.
The pirate captain resisted a laugh and pulled the girl to her tighter, rocking her a little as she made soothing noises. "Shh, now, Anna. Yer mam won't let any old witch near yer bed. And yer da? Nah, he'd beat 'em off like there was nothin' to it."
"But wha' 'bout when I'm not with Mam or Da?"
"Then we'll 'ave t'teach yeh t'smite 'em yerself, eh?" Kendra smiled and kissed the girl's hair. "Yeh've been pesterin' me fer a lesson anyway, 'aven't yeh mongrels?"
"Aye, aye, Cap'n!" Shawn screeched, jumping to his feet and thrusting his hand into the air.
The room erupted into squeals and cheers of agreement, while Kendra laughed and got to her feet, setting Anna down beside her and still managing to stay upright with the girl clinging to her pant leg. She kept a hand on Anna's hair, stroking mindlessly as she looked over the other children and smirked.
"But first, ye'll need something to fight 'em with."
"Where'll we get them, Cap'n?"
Her grin was nearly feral. "To the orchard!"
A sea of cheers erupted again and she watched them hurry out ahead of her before stooping and pulling Anna up and onto her hip. She softened her expression as she saw that the girl's bottom lip was still trembling.
"Anna?"
"But Auntie Kin, I don't wanna fight 'em."
"You don't?" Kendra tilted her head a little, sparing a glance to her path to keep an eye on the hellions before her. "Well then, you'll just need to outsmart 'em." She nodded and leaned closer, speaking as if imparting some great mystery. "Now listen close, Anna." She glanced around and lowered her voice, resisting the urge to laugh at how the girl nodded and watched her intently.
"Witches ne'er did like salt, I 'ear…"
From the second story window Conall watched the children swarm outside and looked to Kendra as they frolicked about. He'd been just as amazed as his siblings and their wives by the transformation the woman had gone through. A week previous he wouldn't have left her alone, but now he felt secure with her keeping the youngest grandchildren entertained. His interactions were still stiff with her, but Conall wasn't about to be all smiles and laughs to a scamp who had injured his crew, nearly killed Seaghdh and tossed a table on top of him. He still couldn't believe what he had seen her do.
One of the boys had finished his makeshift sword and nearly hit his teacher with the weapon when he lost his balance, to which she only laughed and dodged, going over the proper stance once again.
"What are yeh looking at?" Rhona approached from his left, tilting her head a little.
"Nothin'." Conall met Rhona's eyes and tried to straighten his posture slowly.
Despite his nonchalant attitude, she glanced out the window and smiled. "Why, Conall, yeh do have a soft side."
He stiffened and looked out the window again. "Jus' keepin' an eye on 'em."
"Sure yeh are," she continued on past him, patting his shoulder and smiling to herself in a way Conall wasn't so sure he liked.
"Tom, haul yer end of it!"
"I'm hauling 'er as well as I can," the younger sailor grumbled and hefted the large piece of lumber onto his shoulder, following his partner along the water's edge.
They moved up a gangplank and passed carpenters putting their trade to the test. The two men shifted to the left, then to the right to let the captain-to-be pass them. The framing of the ship had been completed two weeks prior and the port had been frantically completing it.
"Heard 'bout the new niece of the MacLeods?"
"Aye, an' a juicy bit more, too."
"That, so Joe?" Tom rolled his eyes. "And what 'bout her?"
"I say there's more t'her than meets the eye." He nodded firmly and dodged another carpenter. "There is rumor about a Captain Ken going missing, too…"
"Right. The MacLeod niece is the illustrious and vicious pirate Captain Ken." Tom shook his head and was glad to have reached the pile of lumber. He crouched in time with Joe and set it down.
"She is!" Joe nodded and dusted off his hands, starting back with the younger sailor to retrieve the next piece. "Just think 'bout it. Both are young women-"
"Can't be sure Captain Ken's a woman anyway."
"Well, more recent reports all point to women!"
Tom rolled his eyes."Lots of women in the Caribbean, Joe."
"Not one's sailing and cursin' up a storm!"
Tom ducked under another piece of lumber that a pair of men was hauling and shook his head. "You need more proof than that."
"Well, they're both short of stature."
"Very normal for women. And pirates are prone to being small."
"Brown hair."
"Most people have brown hair."
"Brown eyes, I think someone said Captain Ken has brown eyes."
"Common eye color."
Joe let out a huff and continued down the gang plank. "She wears trousers. The both of them. You can't go tellin' me that's normal for young lasses."
"Aye, I'll give you that. Don't make her no Captain Ken, though."
"And she don't sound like no Scot. Mark said the niece didn't have no particular accent. And that Captain Ken, it's said-"
"That she can imitate who she pleases. I've heard, Joe." Tom waved a hand and crouched next to the lumber pile, shouldering the wood and groaning as he stood.
"The tailor said there was mention of the niece being a captain." Joe let Tom lead this time, frowning as his junior's back when he said nothing. "And there was talk of pirating, too."
"Joe, Captain Ken of the Dilettante would not take time off to scamper around with good ol' Grandad MacLeod."
"The tailor said she wasn't glad to be here and-"
"If you care so much, why don't you just ask her? It's not like the MacLeod house is so far from here you couldn't go after your shift."
Joe glowered and gripped the lumber tighter. "It all makes sense, Tom…"
"Right, Joe, sure it does. Some famous pirate captain lets herself take a holiday here."
"I still say they're one in the same."
Tom only shook his head. "Pick up your pace, we haven't got all day."
Note on Names:
Tidbits on the name meanings first, some were intentional, others were not.
MacLeod means "son of the ugly man". Marcail means "pearl". Alistair is the Scottish form of "Alexander". Ian (Iain) is related to the name "John" in a similar manner. Boyd means "yellow haired". We believe Caoimhe is derived from the Gaelic word for "beautiful". Conall is "strong wolf", Filib is related to "Phillip", Rhona is Gaelic for "rough island". Lachina has a bit more fun to her name. It's the feminine form of "Lachlan", which is the based on the Scottish nickname for a man from Norway. As I said, not all meanings are intentional.
But as for the pronunciations…we're no experts. Your best resource is probably to look closer at this site: http :// www . scots-online . org / (erase the spaces)