Hi there everyone,
sorry that it took a little bit longer but (as already told) my dear friend is very busy in the moment, so she finds a little bit less time to do the beta-reading, and then I was on a exhibition for the company I am working for, so: soooorry.
Up now to chapter 37, two more and an epilogue are up to come soon.
Love you all and please review
Lywhn
Chapter 37 – Battle Fatigue
Wendy rubbed her tired eyes and leaned against the rail of the Jolly Roger, taking a deep breath of the warming air. A chill breeze blew through her unbound hair, and carried the first sweet scents of Neverland's fresh blooming flowers over the thawing waves. The sun, half hidden behind clouds, tried his best to bring summer back to the magical island, but the island had suffered a lot under the lashing of the wizard's winter, and its wounds would certainly be visible for days to come. The marshes were wetter than ever, and Wendy knew that the Will-o-the-Wisps and Sheeries were delighted with the mist that clung to the mangroves and lianas. The ground had cooled, freezing several inches, and the warm rays of the sun now set thin billows of mist traveling through the swampland and the woods.
Thalion, who had been ashore this morning, told her of the miry soil in the Ancient Forest, and that the verdure was struggling to avoid drowning in all the water that melted into the earth. But Wendy knew this island a little better by now. She knew that it wouldn't be long until Neverland was its blooming, glowing, vibrant self again – a magical pearl in the vast expanse in an ocean not found on any map. Even now she could see the golden darts of light soaring about, which meant that the fairies were busily assisting nature to recover.
The fairies … Without them this whole affair would have ended in disaster.
Wendy looked up to the now peaceful Mount of No Return, which was no more than a sleeping volcano once again. The scar of the split was easily seen from here, but it wouldn't be long before it was covered in flowers, verdure and newborn trees. There, at the western edge of its crater, the battle had taken place, and had almost ended in tragedy. Wendy saw the whole scene before her again – those awful moments she thought she would lose both: Peter, the boy she adored with all her girlish innocence, and Hook, the man she admired as well, but in a completely different way, who awoke such strange feelings in her.
"Look!" John screamed at her side, on their way back to the ship. He had rushed to her as soon as the unicorn halted in the middle of the allies only moments ago; returning the girl to her friends and family below. Bumblyn, whom she still held tightly to her, whimpered because of the hard ride, but quieted the moment he heard the echo of the boy's cry, gazing up at the new rumbling from the mountain. Wendy, surrounded by the allies who had gathered about to congratulate her, whirled around and followed her brother's pointing finger.
The dazzling light of the newly emerged sun blinded her for a few seconds. Yes, the winter had ended. But then she saw it – and her breath caught in her throat. There, near the crater toward Pirate's Cove, the mountain was falling away! And as the dust cleared, she saw in the distance two shapes. Far away, the larger hung over the abyss, while the smaller lay above, holding on.
Too horrified to even scream, Wendy could only watch helplessly as man and boy slid toward destruction. Aurora jingled shrilly, gesturing wildly to the mountain. And the large golden shimmer – the wings of thousands of fairies – flew quick as thought, speeding toward the two.
And then they both fell. NO!!!!
Wendy finally screamed, heart in her throat and fists at her mouth. Before the two had fallen three or four fathoms, the bright cloud enclosed them completely; thousands of tiny hands dusting them, grabbing for hair, torn clothes, leaves and arms; glistening wings held man and boy midair and carried them away – straight to Pirate's Cove.
"Clever she was, Peter's fairy-friend! Help she got!" Kailen shouted, whirling around Aurora, pulling her close, giving her a long sweet kiss. Too shocked at first to react, the rose-fairy looked cross-eyed at her attacker, then her arms went around him and she clung to his kiss. The other pixies stared at them both – half amused, half amazed, before the air filled with the cheering dancing green miniatures, odd shapeless hats twirling in the air.
The rest of the allies witnessed the rescue as well. Nihal and Emorlhi grinned, clapping each other on the back, the pirates started to whoop and applaud, and the Indians let out loud ululating cries of victory. The boys almost tumbled each other to the ground with their joyful embraces, while the unicorn whinnied in glee, its horn shining like the sun. Several gnomes dared to leave their hideouts under snow covered trees and to have a closer look at the strange scene outside their doors – cheering and scampering about as they realized that the unnatural dark was over.
Wendy's knees gave out, and she sat down in the snow, covering her face with her hands and beginning to sob. The last near tragedy was too much for the girl – she felt used up, and her tired soul needed this release, and so the tears ran freely now. Bumblyn, still with her, hopped into her lap as soon as she collapsed, trying to comfort her, but even this little friend couldn't reach her just then.
A strong arm wrapped around her shoulder. A velvet nose pushed against her temple, but she didn't look up. There was the voice of Billy Jukes trying to comfort her, but again she only could sob helplessly into her hands.
"Hush, lady. They are safe now. I am certain they are taken to the ship," Nihal whispered soothingly and pushed her hands down.
"Aye! T'e cap'n and t'e boy are surely lyin' abed e'en as we speak," Smee smiled at her, even if he wasn't so sure. After all, only two pirates had remained aboard.
"Brave Feather has reason to smile. Little White Eagle and Ironhand are out of danger now," Tiger-Lily, who'd been at John's side the whole time, reassured the girl.
"Ah, c'm'on, lass, yer so smart! Red-handed Jill don't weep like no girly," Billy Jukes contributed.
Wendy looked askance at him, smiling through tears, "First, Billy-mate," she retorted in a parody of a pirate, "even Red-handed Jill has her limits; second I am NOT a girly and third…" she looked closer at him and saw how bad off he himself was, "and third you look worse!"
The pirates guffawed and slapped Jukes on the back. He shrugged his comrades away. "Hey, a li'l more respect, yer brutes! Who's the best shot wi' Long Tom, eh?"
"BILLY JUKES!" roared from almost sixty throats, and even the Indians had to smile.
Nihal stroked the hair out of Wendy's face, and the unicorn licked tears from her wet cheek. The girl pulled away, while trying not to be rude. "Uh … I know … that I need … a bath, but … really … that … isn't … necessary!"
Again laughter rolled across the island, the laughter of relief and the joy of victory, of success being yanked from the mouth of defeat. Bumblyn rolled about with laughter, holding his belly. "Blessed be you beyond blessing to bear kisses from a unicorn."
"Aye, lucky you are!" Kailen giggled, still wrapped around Aurora.
"I … appreciate it … but…" Wendy rolled aside, blinking up to the magical mare, which wore a completely amused expression. "I am NOT a lolly!" she stated, and the unicorn whinnied a laugh.
"No, but you are a bit salty," the creature answered; satisfied that the girl had ceased crying.
Suddenly Wendy felt strong hands on her shoulders, and she was lifted back to her feet. Yelping, she turned to a grinning Cecco. "Yer'e worried about t'e cap'n and t'e li'l bilge-rat wit' the fortune of hunert golden childr'n?" he teased roughly. He turned her around and gave her a soft whack on her bottom. "T'en t'ere ye go!"
Wendy squeaked, blushing. "Mr. Cecco! I have to ask you to treat me with more respect! After all--"
"After all, t'at's the cap'n's privilege!" the giant black pirate interrupted her, grinning as he saw her turning redder.
"I wouldn't allow Captain Hook to handle me thus!" she stated, and the entire crew within earshot broke into hearty laughter.
"Lass, he'll do it wit'out askin'!" Mason said.
"'Specially after 'e sees 'is quarters!" Skylight smirked.
"Should we make a feather-pad fer yer pretty bottom?" Bollard chuckled.
"And cotton f' y' ears? He be real loud!" Quang-Lee teased.
Wendy suddenly remembered, and stared into the direction of Pirate's Cove. "He'll be aboard before I have the chance to do anything about it!" she gasped. "Oh NO!"
Mason guffawed. "Aw, no worry, lass. Ya saved his life!"
"He got a weak spot fer ye!"
" 'E'd never harm a lady!"
"Aye! It'd be bad form!"
"Could be 'e's unconscious!"
"Aye, then ye'd 'ave a chance to put 'is quarters in order"
"We'll help, as promised!"
John's eyes darted back and forth between the pirates and his sister, then exchanged a dumbfounded gaze with the chief's daughter. How on Earth had Wendy managed to tame the whole murderous crew? Even getting them on her side? Shaking his head, he followed the troop that started purposefully back to Pirate's Cove; knowing that Thalion, his Elves and the remaining Indian warriors under the lead of Chief Rain-in-the-Face would follow them as soon as they got out of what was left the mountain.
Wendy's thoughts were brought back to the present as Bumblyn climbed beside her on the rail, looking toward the island. The ship bobbed gently in the water that melted about it, leaving the Jolly Roger in a broad pool like dark glass. "Considerable cutting and cleaning and correcting before the Dark One's dreadful deeds are done away," he said and sat down gently – and moaned. "That horse! I am a Hobgoblin, not a Leprechaun!"
"Leprechauns are a sort of bogy, too, aren't they?" she asked, and Bumblyn nodded. "So why could one ride better than you?"
The Hobgoblin stared at her, then snorted. "Indeed they do almost daily – but mostly on large lumbering lambs. But more importantly: they have no tail!" He pointed at his rump and squeaked, "I'm not built for bobbing about on an beast's back!"
The girl smiled compassionately and touched his cheek with her finger. "I am sorry, Bumblyn. But why did you come with me if it's so hard for you to ride? Your debt is paid."
The Hobgoblin stared into the melting ice below them, his face a study in concentration. He finally murmured something in his throaty, convoluted language and Wendy cocked her head. "Again please?" she asked gently.
"I find you a fine friend," Bumblyn grumbled. "Little'uns 'r' no likely to care fer larger ones than himself, but you, lady…" he sighed, "y' helped us unselfish an' y' have a good heart. Y' dinna make no difference from which folk someone hails from. The only thing that matters for you is heart." He shrugged. "And so, well… janiclawinkarolsnawkejianiralkaskentalri, I care not that yer a big'un and – worst of all – a human." He rose, dangerously near the edge of the rail, before he turned toward her. "Fair lady of sweet fortune, you are my friend, forever!" he declared solemnly, looking up at her with large eyes.
Wendy felt that warmth tugging her again. Here she stood, aboard of her favorite pirate-ship, having survived an adventure nearly beyond telling, faced a magical island in the throes of a glorious recovery, having ridden and been 'kissed' by a unicorn – and now this precious sprite declared that she would be his friend forever. Feeling tears prickling her eyes – again (over the last two days she seemed to have spilled a lot of water) – she bent down and placed a gentle kiss on the cheek of her little friend.
Bumblyn straightened, stiff as a poker, his ears and tail pointing skyward; then his face turned several shades of red and he leapt up as high as her head; cheering in joy. Wendy laughed as she watched him – until it dawned to her where the accident-prone Hobgoblin was dancing about, and stretched out her hands to him to snatch him away from the narrow rail -- but too late! For one second she saw his startled face, his ears curling forward in shock – then he vanished with a cry toward the water.
"Man overboard!" Wendy screamed and whirled around toward several startled pirates. "Where is the float?"
"T'e what?" Mason asked inanely.
"You are on a pirate ship, Senorita. Pirates rarely have use for a life preserver," a heavily accented voice said beside her.
Wendy jumped with a yelp and looked down on a crabby Klabautermann, who had emerged with a 'pop'. The nyxx stared at the buccaneers, who didn't dare to move a muscle, watching the little man with some alarm at his appearance. Esteban rolled his eyes – "Why me?" he growled – handed Wendy his pipe, hammer and hat with the words "Don't you dare to lose these, chica," climbed on the rail and dove into the sea after the Hobgoblin.
"Senior Esteban!" Wendy called, watching him disappear into the icy water; the rest of the pirates on deck coming beside her. Here, too, came Slightly, Nibs, Michael and a limping Curly.
"He's left t'e ship!" Mullins gasped; terrified.
"He's jus' tryin' t' save t'e li'l troublemaker, t'at's all!" Alf Mason said scornfully to his superstitious comrade.
"Klabautermanns do t'at sorta t'ing from time to time!" Cecco nodded.
"An' 'ow would YOU know t'at? Y' said y' didn't believe such stuff!"
Mullins snapped, and Cecco rolled his eyes.
"Because it's t'e only way to protect m'self against yer nonsensical gabblin'!"
Wendy ignored the argument, peering down into the waves where her little friend had vanished. Then, suddenly, two heads broke the surface, spitting and coughing. Esteban held Bumblyn to his side and supported him, while the Hobgoblin paddled with all fours toward the Jacob's ladder, cursing endless
bogy-curses. "Swing open the rail and help them aboard!" Wendy shouted, while she rushed toward the Jacobs-Ladder. "Billy? Fetch blankets!" When she heard no movement, she turned around and stared in eight very perplexed pirate-faces and at four gaping boys. Impatiently Wendy clapped her hands. "Wakey, wakey! Esteban and Bumblyn need our help!"
"But…" stuttered Mullins. " 'E … 'e's t'e ship's Klabautermann! Wot 'elp could 'e need?"
"So?" the girl snapped. She suddenly remembered how Hook spoke toward the crew when they didn't seem to listen. "MOVE, ya scurvy brutes!" To her surprise, Mason and Cecco started, then ran to the rail to access the Jacobs-Ladder, while Jukes ran to the companionway, hollering about "blankets." Well, that went better than expected!
Again the boys could only stare at the girl.
Panting, Bumblyn emerged on deck, dripping. From behind, a grumpy Esteban also emerged, growling in Spanish and something about landlubbers. Wendy knelt by her friend. "Bumblyn, are you all right?"
The Hobgoblin sneezed, tail dripping and shivering, and wrapped his arms and tail around his small self. His teeth clattered, as he only said: "C…c…cold!" Immediately Wendy removed the doublet she still wore and wrapped the large leather garment around her little friend, who glanced at her with an unhappy expression. "I lost m' hat," he sniffed.
Esteban crawled up beside them, shaking salt drops from his hair and swearing curses Wendy had never heard before. "Language, Senior Esteban! I do thank you for your help with Bumblyn, but please moderate your tongue!" The Klabautermann paused to at her, while the men milling about them paused, holding their breath.
The nyxx lifted a brow – and started to laugh: "Chica, I'm the Klabautermann of a pirate vessel. Language is what we use! But you have courage -- no wonder that Blue-Eyes has such a soft spot for you!"
Wendy pinked. "You've such an imagination, Senor Esteban!"
"And you are naïve, girl!" he grinned, and stretched out his rough hand. "My pipe, hat, and hammer, por favor!" Wendy bobbed her head toward Skylight, who held out the items to the ship's guardian as if they were porcelain eggs. Grinning, Esteban took them and then clapped a hand on Bumblyn's shivering back. "Come on, landlubber! Let's find some grog and then a nice long nap!" He glanced at Wendy. "Bella senorita, you should take a siesta, too! You're too white–even for an English rose!" He bowed in front of the blushing girl, took the surprised Hobgoblin by one arm and pulled him toward the companionway. He bowed to a tall figure in the shadow before vanishing the under deck; already chattering in the strange tongue all bogeys seemed to understand.
Wendy followed them with her eyes, these two who were invisible to the rest of the world, but normal inhabitants here in Neverland. Then she saw the slender figure in the shadow of the mizzen-mast, and smiled widely as the woman drew nearer. The pirates instantly made room for her, even pulled their hats off, tugging at their forelocks – a courtesy rarely seen from the rough buccaneers.
The woman nodded gently at them, asked Cecco how his injured arm was doing and moved to the children; her moss-green eyes directed toward Wendy. "I think your kiss was shocking," she teased gently and laughed as the girl's cheeks warmed again.
Wendy looked up. The daylight, veiled because of Peter's condition, bathed the woman in a soft light and amusing itself in her knee-length silver-white hair. Once again, Wendy was amazed by the beauty of her race. Even the pirates seemed too stunned, too respectful around her, and held their loose tongues.
Glawar, Giliath's twin, had arrived several hours after Wendy and the rest of them reached the Jolly Roger. It was late evening when Thalion and the others signaled from shore that they needed to be picked-up. The ice on the sea had thinned, now too dangerous to walk on, separating into floes. With great caution, several pirates had rowed a longboat to shore, taking aboard the remaining Elves along with a newcomer, wrapped in a long cape. Smee, the senior-officer, had accompanied his comrades and been suspicious at first. But as the stranger revealed her profile, and the old Irishman beheld the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, he said nothing more as they boarded the Jolly Roger.
Landward, Chief Rain-in-the-Face met the men in his tribe, and all were on their way toward winter camp. Sadly, John and Tiger-Lily said good-bye, but the Indian girl promised to return as soon as the island grew warmer, so that she could teach him how to swim.
And so the Jolly Roger was host to a real lady, one possessing nearly the same healing-virtue as her brother, and who had been following their progress. After she ministered to Giliath, enabling him to begin to heal, she'd cared for the other injured–mainly Peter and Hook. Both were a mess, and hadn't regained consciousness since they were rescued by the fairies.
Together with Wendy, Thalion, Nihal, the ship's surgeon, and two others who were assisting, they patched up the two and all the rest of the fighters. Glawar had come aboard yesterday evening, and neither she nor Wendy nor the rest on medical duty had rested yet. The woman wasn't affected, but the girl showed the signs of exhaustion for the first time since she came back aboard.
Wendy rose, nodded to the pirates and walked slowly with Glawar toward the bow, while the boys bunked with the buccaneers, chattering back and forth with them as if they'd done it forever. Jukes appeared carrying two blankets, and upon discovering that the two sprites had already disappeared below, he spread the blankets on deck near the cannons for himself and his comrades.
Wendy and Glawar progressed toward the bow, where a kind of makeshift-camp was set up under the deck for the injured. (Normally quarters were rarely placed near the bow, because a ship is rarely still at that end, but there was enough room now for all the guests and wounded.) The grid-hatches were
open to allow fresh air to circulate under deck, and now, in the late afternoon, voices could be heard from below. Most of the injured had awoken during the day, but several of them were not well enough to get up. But talking was something a pirate could always do, and they heard many voices. Those who were worse off were aft, where it would be more comfortable for them. Along with them, Peter and Giliath.
Wendy glanced a Glawar and smiled again. Her silver-white hair floated in the soft wind; the long sleeves of her light-green dress wafted behind her, and her lightly shod feet seemed not to touch the boards. A graceful hand stroked a strand behind her subtly pointed ear. She turned her moss-green-eyes–the same as her brother's–toward the sea. An old yearning pulled at her face before she sighed, directing her attention toward the bow where several Elves stood talking quietly.
"They all look toward the open sea," Wendy murmured. "Why is that? Have you no oceans in your world?"
Glawar gave a little laugh, sounding much like the crystal bell in Aunt Millicent's sitting room. "Oh no, we have oceans, but they are far from the woods and valleys where we live. The sea is quite dear to us – something very special."
The girl nodded. "I know what you mean. I remember how I was captivated by my first sight of the vastness of the sea. That might be why I love ships so much – and … well … have a soft spot -- for them!" She pointed backwards with her thumb toward the buccaneers.
Glawar smiled with Elvish piquancy. "Yes, the view is impressive. But the sea has a different meaning to us. It is … how can I say it? We Elves do not age, but when we are tired and have lived too long, then we travel over the sea on our last journey." She leaned against the railing above the bow and the figurehead. "Sometimes the open sea is a strong temptation to us."
Wendy leaned over the rail beside her; thinking. "But to be forever young is something all humans wish. How can your long life be tiring?" she asked, enjoying Glawar's long fingers combing her soft hair. Wendy knew it needed to be washed, for neither she nor the others had found time to bathe, settling for washing her hands and face.
"For other mortals it sounds tempting, yes. But just think of it: humans grow old and die, while Elves stay forever young. Do you know how many human friends I've had and lost them all, watching them faltering and fading away?"
She saw the beginning understanding in the girl eyes – before she suddenly yawned widely. A soft pink crept in her cheeks, murmuring, "Sorry."
The lady smiled. "Time for bed, I think."
Wendy shook her head. "No. Peter hasn't regained consciousness yet, and I promised Michael and Twins I'd—"
Glawar gently laid one finger on her lips. "Hush, child. You could sleep where you stand. You've helped so many since you got here yesterday. You haven't even slept for the past two nights, and the last week was most difficult–and you are not Elf, but human," she glanced down at Wendy's clothes, "even though the differences are minimal."
The girl grinned, yawning again. "Well … those leggings are comfortable, but," she sighed, "I am so looking forward to the summer-dress I brought with me." She bit her lower lip. "Maybe I can use Hook's little room again to clean up and … and he'd loan me another shirt until my clothes are dry." She rubbed her eyes and looked toward the castle aft – Hook's cabin. "What if he wakes up and sees his quarters? But then, we did straighten it a bit – and even if we couldn't do much, it shouldn't matter. Not after I saved him. But then, he IS Captain Hook and his temper is usually short. Do you know if—"
This time Glawar placed her entire hand over the girl's mouth to stop her rambling, seeing it was only Wendy's exhaustion speaking. "Go to sleep, Wendy girl. Should Peter awaken, I will certainly tell him that you are alright. Any moment now I will be carrying YOU to bed."
The girl smiled sheepishly, sighing as she realized that Glawar was right. Her limbs felt as if made of iron. "That bad, huh?" she murmured and clenched her teeth over another yawn.
The woman chuckled. "Yes."
Feeling weariness overwhelm her, Wendy understood Glawar was indeed right. And the prospect of a comfortable bed was pure heaven. "One more look in on Peter before I go to bed," she said softly, and Glawar nodded. "Good night," Wendy told her quietly, and walked aft.
The lady watched her. It was time that girl rested. Every step looked as though it were an effort, and she knew that she wouldn't see the human child again before tomorrow – enough time to get her little surprise ready.
Wendy looked upon the sleeping Peter. He lay in a small cabin, the porthole swung wide to let in the fresh air, and the bed was freshly made, wider than he needed. He looked pale, feverish and frighteningly helpless. Clean bandages covered him, and those parts not bandaged were bruised and scratched. His left hand was bound up, his right arm fixed at his torso to allow the shoulder to recover, and his right leg (where S'Hadh's bolt had hit him) was firmly wrapped with a generous slathering of Elfish ointment.
How could someone do that to a child? And try to drop him into a live volcano?? Yes, Peter was a threat, but he was also a child. She sighed. She doubted that Hook would have hurt or tormented him like this, even when mortal enemies. The pirate-captain would have killed him without mercy then, but somehow, deep in her heart, she knew that the buccaneer would have done it quickly, which was – after all – a mercy in its own way.
Wendy sighed and sat down on the bed next to the sleeping boy. His breathing was steadier than yesterday, when Wendy saw him in the early afternoon again after she and the others reached the ship. Then, his breathing had been labored, and she had been half out of her mind when she saw the torn, bleeding and bruised boy – her hero. The two pirates who had remained aboard carried him to this cabin and bandaged the worst wounds. But the best help had been Nihal, who had replaced Peter's dislocated shoulder and used the ointment, and later cared for Hook and the others.
Wendy wrung out the cloth in the bowl on the washstand, and wiped Peter's face. She knew --from the time she had the fever last winter -- how marvelous a cool cloth felt on heated skin, wiping the sweat away.
The boy groaned in his sleep, but didn't wake. But his innocent features relaxed until something like a faint smile came to his lips. The girl sighed and her eyes met Tink's, who lay beside the boy on the pillow – tired and still dirty. The little fairy smiled at her, waved briefly before turning away, ready to fall asleep again.
Wendy didn't mind. Tinker Bell had flown faster and further than ever before in her life, summoning her folk to their aid. She had spent days beneath Neverland, providing vital services to the allies. "Good night, Tink," Wendy whispered to the fairy, bowing low and brushing a gentle kiss to Peter's forehead. "Sleep well, Peter!" she murmured and left.
Outside she almost collided with Smee, who looked as worn out she felt. "Not yet in t'e feat'ers, li'l miss?" he asked kindly. After the girl had risked her own life to save his captain, every bit of animosity had disappeared in the Irishman.
Wendy glanced into his reddened eyes. No wonder the man was worn out. He hadn't slept either, but assisted his comrades and the Elves wherever he could. And he was, as he might say, not a spring goat anymore. "I will – after a proper wash." She bit her lips. "Mr. Smee, may I ask you a favor?" The boatswain nodded. "Is … is there somewhere I could have … a decent bath?" her voice sank to a whisper, and she looked around, hoping none other than the Irishman had heard her. After all, she was a young lady and it completely indecent to speak about something as private like a bath in public.
Smee's eyes narrowed in a laugh as he took in her appearance. Then he started chuckle, rubbing his beard. "Och, aye, y' could use one." He smirked again as she blushed. While she smiled shyly; her tired eyes shone for a moment like two bright stars. Pirate, yes, graybeard, yes, but he could see why his captain was so fond of this girl. She was the perfect mixture of innocence, vitality and beauty that a man could grow weak for. "Come on, I'm sure t'e capt'n'd not object if y' used 'is tub again."
Wendy bit her lips. "Is … is he still asleep?"
The loyal Irishman made a sad, worried face. "Aye – since yesterday. Quite unusual. Normally 'e's one of t'e first t' rise in t'e morning." He went toward the companionway, Wendy at his side. They passed the galley and the old Irishman winked at her, before he opened the door and peeked into the kitchen; grinning when he saw a tipsy Cookson and heard two careless voices in the storeroom, clearly the two sprites.
"Cooky?" The ship's cook scowled at him, but Smee ignored him. "Heat two big buckets o' water 'n' it bring it along wit' s'm buckets o' cold water to t'e cap'n's quarters. But as silent as possible, awri'?"
Grumbling, Cookson started to fill the large metal pot. "Fin'ly awake?"
"Nah! The water's fer t'e young lady." Cookson stared at him as the rum-rusted cogs started turning, and he remembered the two females aboard, and decided that Smee was referring to Wendy and growled something nasty. "Ten minutes, Cookson!" Smee said with an edge in his voice, and closed the door. "T'at silly spoon-swinger 'as bats in 'is belfry."
Wendy giggled, swallowed another yawn, and followed him up the companionway. A minute later, Smee led her into Hook's cabin, and Wendy's smile disappeared when she saw the condition of the luxurious room.
Smee had gathered papers, documents and maps, stacking them neatly on the table with a large book on top to as a paperweight. The chairs and the globe stood again in their usual places, only the desk was missing. Wendy knew that Mullins was working on it to repair the broken leg. The carpets were missing as well, because others of the crew took them to the island that morning, soaking out the blood in the snow. They now hung above the quarterdeck on the poop deck for drying. The broken bits had been cleaned up, but the broken door of the cabinet seemed to accuse her. "Thank you for cleaning up what you could," Wendy whispered and met the amused gaze of the Irishman.
"Well, we don't need t'e capt'n flyin' off t'e handle, do we?" He shook his grey head again. "Really, lass, t'at must 'a' been a pretty wild fight – seeing what-all 'uz broken." Smee vanished into the water closet.
Sighing, the girl waited, looking about. Yes, there was still a lot to do, but the worst was gone. Despite this, she knew that Hook would be upset when he woke. Her eyes slid to the large bed with the shell-shaped headboard, where a tall figure lay under the blanket. Feeling uneasiness awaking in her, she tiptoed to the bed and looked down on the man who'd been lying motionless like this for more than a day. He was still pale with a high color on his cheeks – typical for fever. Like Peter, his torso and his right arm were bandaged, and the rest of him showed many bruises. His beard was full, and his gnarled curly mane was spread over the pillow. He lay quietly, his broad chest rising and falling evenly. Wendy took this opportunity to lean in close, and examine him privately.
His exotic dark lashes lay over the dark shadows beneath his eyes. Tiny beads of sweat stood out on his high forehead, and Wendy felt an almost motherly urge to dab his face. She didn't want to see him suffering, and she knew from experience how awful a fever could be. She was amazed that such a powerful man could look so … vulnerable, so weak. She felt as if she must protect him – somehow – and she didn't know why.
On the stand beside the bed was a bowl with water and a cloth, and using it, she gently wiped the sweat from his face. Like Peter, a low moan escaped him, as in his sleep he enjoyed the cool soft cloth, then he was silent again. Wendy smiled. Sweet Lord, even with his beard and the manly body, he reminded her that moment more of a boy than a man.
"He'll make it," Smee whispered beside her, making her start. She'd been so fixed on the pirate-captain that she hadn't heard the Irishman coming. "You'll see, t'morra he'll scold and growl to get everyone back t' work, even t'ough t'ere's no much t' do now!" He left the cabin to see about the things for her bath.
Wendy smiled. How odd that someone (surely a murderous, cold-blooded cutthroat) could show so much care and compassion for another. Wendy knew that Smee served the captain for a very long time, but still the brooding hen quality of the man amused and bemused her, mingled with another, softer feeling.
With a sigh, she stood, and set about straightening the parts of the room she was able to affect. Books, bottles, candles were set aright before Smee returned, bearing an armload of toiletries. "C'mon, li'l lady, your tub'll soon be ready!"
As if on cue, Cookson opened the door to the cabin, and several men carried buckets into the quarters as quietly as possible – barefoot -- throwing nervous glances in the direction of their sleeping captain. It wasn't long before the tub was almost full. They vanished again, grinning at her, and then Smee bowed teasingly. "Yer bath, milady!" he pointed toward the little room, then followed his comrades out on deck. Before he closed the door he whispered: "An' be quiet! 'E's most grumpy upon waking."
Wendy giggled. "I know. Thank you, Mr. Smee, and – if you allow me to say this – try to get some sleep yourself."
The boson nodded, "Aye aye, Miss!" as he closed the door behind him.
Finally alone, the girl walked quietly to the carved armoire, which had miraculously escaped damage, took a deep breath, opened it, and pulled out one of Hook's shirts. She would need it after bathing, and she hoped he wouldn't mind. A minute later she sank into the tub, sighing in pleasure as the warm water closed around her tired body. It was Heaven and she felt the ache slowly leave her limbs.
For almost five minutes, she soaked in the warm bath, splashing her face and hair. It was almost too good to be true. She could have soaked like this forever, but as room seemed to suddenly come back into focus, she knew that she almost fell asleep in the tub, and this was a risky thing, the captain only a few steps away. Sighing, she took the soap from the bench beside her – it smelled like herbs, so different from the soaps she normally used – and washed her hair and herself many times. And with every layer of adventure rubbed away, another worry or trace of the long dark days disappeared as well.
Bone-dulling fatigue was finally spreading through her mind again, stronger than before. The water calmed and soothed her soul enough to allow her to rest. She felt as if someone had opened a hole in her foot, and all her energy had run out. Now barely able to move, she rose, wrapped a generous towel about herself and set down on the tub's edge, using it on her hair. Her movements were slow; betraying the exhaustion that was beginning to overpower her.
Her eyes fell on her dirty clothes, and sighing, she picked them up and threw them into the bathtub. It wasn't the best solution, but didn't matter at the moment. Letting them soak, she looked around and took one of the combs. She plucked several long black hairs out of it and started to bring some order to the mess that was her own hair. It was not easy, for it had been days since she'd brushed, and now her arms hurt, being as tired as they were. After several minutes, with most of the knots combed out, she cleaned the comb, put it back, threw a glance into the tub, pulled on Hook's new shirt, rolled the sleeves up and left the room. She knew that the clothes could soak until there was a chance to wash them properly. Her bare feet made no noise on the bare wooden floor, and yawning, she looked around. She would have to wait several minutes more until she could wash the clothes. Perhaps one of the books could distract her from her falling eyelids.
As she read the titles, she fought to keep her eyes open. The peace and silence of the cabin was getting the better of her and…
And a deep sigh from the bed attracted her attention before she fell asleep at the bookshelf. She turned around – nearly tripping over her feet – and looked to the pirate-captain who was shifting. Hoping that he would finally awake from the death-like sleep, she tiptoed over to him.
He moved again, licked his lips, lashes starting to flutter. A second later, the girl was looking into the still glassy and reddened blue depths again, the ones she'd often thought she would never see again. "Hello, Captain," she greeted him quietly, and smiled as she watched him sorting out his thoughts. Finally his confused expression changed into recognition.
"Wendy?" he whispered and looked at her as if she were a ghost. "How … Where … What happened?" His rasping voice betrayed how tired he still was.
"You and Peter fell from the cliff, but the fairies caught you and brought you two to the Jolly Roger." She ducked her head a bit. "We were all very worried about you both."
"The fairies?" he murmured and closed his eyes, trying very hard to remember something, but a fierce headache started, and so he let it be. He tried to move again, and moaned as sharp pain bit at his right side, shoulder and chest.
A curse escaped him, but this time Wendy didn't mind. She knew that he was still in a lot of pain. "Would you like some water?" she asked; remembering how thirsty the fever made her last winter.
Hook turned his head carefully toward the nightstand, where a pitcher pf fresh water stood, and the sight of it was enough waken the hellish thirst in his sand-dry mouth. "Yes, please!" he rasped, and watched her as she filled a glass with the water. Then he knew -- he had to sit up – at least a little – to drink, and the thought of just that small movement was dreadful. But if he didn't want to die of thirst, then he had to do it. Very carefully he tried to prop himself on his right arm, but gasped as a new pain shot through him. Pressing his eyes shut, he let himself sink back to the pillow, and swallowed another moan. No other choice: he had to support himself on his left arm, which meant that he couldn't hold the glass, but had to be assisted, like an infant. For a long second, forgetting his exhaustion, he gritted his teeth… and felt her soft fingers on his left shoulder. "Please may I help you?"
She met his eyes again and saw something like anger in them, before his fatigue got the better of him again. Swallowing his pride he nodded, and found the slender right hand of the girl behind his neck a second later, as she helped him to roll onto his left side. Then both looked at the glass in her hand, and an awkward silence lasted for a breath or two in the cabin. They both knew what the next step was. "May I help you again, or shall I get Smee?" Wendy asked shyly; seeing why such humiliation and discomfiture appeared on Hook's face.
Good Lord, so much trouble because of the lost hand! His request for Smee was on the tip of his tongue, but then it in. It wasn't so bad to have a sweet young girl care for him instead of the clumsy Irishman. Her presence was far more welcome in this moment. "Would you…?" he murmured, and didn't get out the words "help me."
Quietly Wendy set the glass at his lips, and as the fresh cool water touched his mouth, all resolve and thoughts of embarrassment left him. He gulped the water as if his life were at stake, ignoring her cautioning. "Not too fast, Captain, or you'll grow sick!" Damnit, he was thirsty and didn't care if he got sick or not! And then the glass was empty. "More?" she asked, ready to fill the glass again, but he shook his head.
No, she was right about being careful. The water was a blessing, yes, but his stomach started to protest. "Thank you," he murmured and avoided her eyes – ashamed of being so helpless.
Wendy pretended not to have seen any of the emotions that played on his face – so unusual and so unexpected for this man. "You're welcome," she answered politely, and set the glass back.
With a relieved sigh, Hook rolled back, sinking into the mattress, and his eyes fell shut for a long moment. Wendy thought he had fallen asleep again, when she met the blue depths looking at her.
"What …" he croaked, then cleared his throat. "How is my crew? The ship? Is Pan …?"
The girl smiled. Even laid up and exhausted, he was still captain, the one who always thought first of his ship. "The Jolly Roger is fine, most of your crew have only minor injuries, and Peter is in one of the cabins sleeping." She took a deep breath. "You two had such luck!" Again their eyes met, and he patted the bed next to him. He wanted her nearer.
Gratefully, the girl sat down, her legs barely holding her up. The man frowned, trying to gather a proper memory. There was something about a vicious purple flash, and Pan sitting beside him, snarling that he wouldn't go without him – and an odd feeling like falling. But all was a blur, and in a few seconds, Hook decided to give it – and himself – a rest. The depths of sleep were calling him and he had to fight to hold his eyes open.
He slid a look to the girl beside him before surrendering to sleep. Only now he saw that her hair was damp and she wore one of his shirts, with dark circles under her tired eyes and pale as a sheet. Her shoulders, usually tall and straight, were bowed and her expression was one of utter exhaustion. Even in his state he saw the girl was dead on her feet. "How long since you've slept, beauty?" he asked, as something like concern chased across his face.
"Since the day before yesterday, when the ship fired on the cave opening and--"
"Since when?" Hook asked, more fully awake. He knew now that the girl had been up for more than two days, and was shocked that he seemed to have slept away a full day.
Wendy gave him a wan smile. "Since the day before yesterday," she repeated; anticipating that he was thunderstruck because he had been unconscious for so long. "You and Peter were carried to the ship yesterday and …"
"I've been asleep a whole day?" he murmured. "What time is it?"
"Late afternoon," Wendy answered, not remembering hearing the ship's bell lately.
Hook stared. The captain in him wanted a complete inspection, while the man in him said go back to sleep. The girl had given a good report about the crew (and he trusted her,) and the ship was safe in Pirate's Cove. And he had to admit, he doubted that he could get up and move around without help.
Wendy's gaze had dropped to the floor by her feet. The short silence was enough to allow another wave of Morpheus' Kingdom to wash over her. Her eyes started to burn and she tried to hide a yawn, but it was useless. Somehow she managed to lift a hand before her mouth, but even this gesture
was suddenly too much. Her tired eyes wandered to the open windows, where the late afternoon-sun sent its rays into the cabin. Little dust-particles danced in them, were almost hypnotic. For a long moment strange pictures rushed through her mind and the captain's quarters started to vanish, as she felt a warm but weak hand on her arm.
"Where is your bed, Wendy?" Hook's voice was rough and quiet, but something of the old purr had returned.
Again the girl yawned. "Down … near Peter … beneath …" and she yawned again, rubbing her hand across her teary eyes, "beneath the weapons locker." The thought of having to traverse that distance was miserable. She didn't even know how she would stand …
Also fighting against the tempting waves of sleep, Hook frowned, considering her route: she had to leave his cabin, climbed down the steep set of steps, then walk to the companionway, two decks down and then go back to aft. Not so far, but in her state … "You can take my settee, if you like. Blankets in the left side of the wardrobe," he suggested off-handedly, before the pirate in him could protest.
Wendy seemed not to have heard him, eyes nearly closed, head bowed, swaying a little before she visibly shook herself. Sighing, she lifted her head to look glassy-eyed at the comfortable, inviting chaise lounge. But… it was so … far away. She had to walk all the way across the cabin to reach it ... and didn't he say something about the wardrobe? It was way over on the other side of his bed and …
"Wendy?" Hook asked and squeezed her arm a little.
She shook her head, seeming to waken. "Thank you," she whispered and tried to rise, but her arms and legs didn't obey her anymore. No, just another minute … another minute to sit and rest … then she'd do it … couldn't she?
Hook saw her shoulders hitch with silent weeping. She was just a little girl this moment – overreaching her limits and helpless as a newborn. He knew that she wouldn't make it to the chaise; that might end up sleeping on the floor between it and the bed. Before the last week, he wouldn't have cared. Not one bit. But everything had changed – for her, for him, for all of them. He couldn't stand to see her like this – it made his soul ache. He pushed aside the blanket and extended his left arm – a silent invitation. "Come here, little one," he whispered, ignoring his own pain, he pulled her down beside him, so strong was his urge to protect her.
Another sob escaped her. "I can't anymore," was all she said before she fell over onto the pillow, asleep before her head rested on his arm.
Hook pulled the blanket over her, rolled on his left side (a relief to the injured right one) and spooned behind her. He buried his face in her damp hair and breathed in. He smelled his soap in her hair; sweet herbs mingled with her own rosy scent, and felt the tension leaving him. Her presence healed the fever in his blood. He knew that no dark dreams would haunt him now, her simple presence chasing away the inner demons. The same peace he'd known that morning in the Black Castle, when he found her sleeping beside him, filled him, flowering in his chest, sending waves of well-being down his limbs.
Everything was all right. The ship and the crew were safe and Wendy was safe. They had defeated the dark warlock, he and Pan had escaped a volcano and a fall from a cliff. The golden sunlight filling his quarters proved that everything was as it should be – and anything else could be discussed later.
Sighing he pulled the girl closer, and even hurting as it did, he wrapped his right arm around her petite warmth. The last thought that tiptoed through his fading consciousness was the wish that it could be like this every time he went to bed – never alone and dreading the next lonely day, but lying with someone who cared for him – someone who even cared enough to risk her own life to save him. Then the warm darkness of sleep took him away.
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Glawar stood in the door of the great cabin, contemplating the two forms in the bed with the shell-shaped headboard. It was a sweet view – the tall, strong man, and the small girl, still more child than woman. The man had surrounded her in a protective and possessive manner, while the girl slept in complete innocence and trust in his arms.
The woman smiled – and was startled by a soft 'pop' as the Klabautermann materialized. His clothes were dry again and he smoked at his pipe. Grumbling, he glanced at the two before he suddenly chuckled. He exchanged a glance with the lady and snickered: "You see the future as I do, bella! And this looks much as it will – later."
Glawar laid her right index-finger to her lips and winked at him. "The future is always in the mist of unknown time. Many turns lie in the path between now and then, and every one of them can lead to a different future." Her glance returned to the two sleepers, and for a moment she could see: This bed as through a haze and two bodies – entwined and clinging to one another. Large eyes, dark with passion, fixed in utter wonder and adoration to the one above, while the other radiated an almost desperate need …
Then the images disappeared and compassion filled the beautiful eyes of the visitor. "He must wait – and even after the time of waiting is over, he will have to be patient—surely not an easy thing for such a man with such fire and passion."
Esteban nodded and snorted amusedly, peering at Wendy. "It is certain she will still have her claws – and her charm that can wrap him around her finger."
Glawar laughed silently. "Just as he is able to persuade her to do things she never thought of before." She turned to peer at the nyxx; they both felt and saw the same: "The boy wakes. I don't think it would be good if he wakes up alone."
Esteban scratched his head. "You go to Peter. The two here need no one to watch them at the moment." Suddenly he giggled. "Not now or tomorrow, but in the not so distant future…"
Glawar's eyes widened. "Esteban!" Then she smiled and left, while the Klabautermann vanished with another soft 'pop,' only his laughter echoing for a moment longer in the cabin.
Esteban's quiet laughter was enough to pierce the sleep fog of the captain, his mind – as always – on alert. Hook thought that he'd heard a noise in his quarters and groggily opened an eye. Then the other. He blinked in the golden-pink light outside – sundown, no doubt, in a hazy sky. Only the sunsets in the Caribbean and Neverland looked like this. He felt a warm small body pressed into his and the fragrance of one familiar to him, who meant him no harm. His fuzzy mind recognized the girl and he relaxed again, just as something caught his attention at the outside corner of his eye.
Fighting the drag of sleep, he lifted his head and saw a tall figure near the window. He blinked, but his sight remained blurred, even as the figure drew nearer. "Go back to sleep, Captain. Everything is all right," the soft voice said. All he could see was a pale robe, long, silver hair, and large dark eyes in a pearl-white face, while the strange woman seemed to hang in mid-air instead of walking. The sun was going down behind the stranger, bathing her in a golden light, making her as bright as new-fallen snow – and he knew in this one moment that an angel was in his cabin. Something in him cautioned him -- no angel of the Lord would ever visit him – James Hook, the Scourge of the Seven Seas – but could it be … one day … the angel of death … ?
"Lie back, Captain James. I will do you no harm," the gentle voice said, before the shining figure bent over him, hand extended toward the girl.
Thinking that this had to be that kind of dream that turned into nightmare, he felt apprehension rising in him, protectively pulling Wendy closer. "Stay away from her!" he whispered hoarsely, his muscles too tired to obey the urge to rise and to fight. He felt the room begin to spin, and felt more helpless than ever before in his life, and he could do nothing more than close his eyes and to hold the girl against him as if their lives depended on it. "Take me if you must have a soul, but not her!"
She barely understood him, and Glawar frowned, surprised and confused. By the clear bright stars above, of what was the man speaking? She was only pulling the blanket higher over the girl. She saw that the man was more asleep than awake, and she concluded that he mistook her in his fever for someone else – certainly a dangerous someone – and tried to protect the girl; offering himself instead.
Sighing, she lifted her hand and touched his temple; letting her protection fall, sending warmth and comfort into the haunted soul of the man. "Hush, everything is alright. I'll take no one with me, neither you nor her. Sleep now! Everything will be clear tomorrow!" she said soothingly and she saw the broad shoulders under the bandages relaxing, as he returned to sleep almost instantly. But still he was still wrapped about the girl.
Sighing again, Glawar carefully pushed him off of Wendy; knowing that he was too heavy for her. The girl murmured something in her sleep and snuggled her small back against him again, as she missed the warm contact even in the depth of her sleep. The woman smiled as she saw the tender beginning of another wonder of this world.
Fondly, Glawar pushed some hair out of the girl's heart-shaped face, pulled the blanket higher and left the cabin after a last look at the two for which Heaven had such extraordinary plans.
TBC….