Chapter two: Peter Pan-Daddy
It's not fair. How was I supposed to be drunk, and at the same time remember I had a daughter? Seven years I've been searching for the brat whose real name is Tristen. Why'd I have to go and drown my sorrows, instead of living with them like she did? It took me a full year to figure it out, to finally find that Tristen was no longer accompanying me, and that the little happiness I had was gone with her. To get that speck of happiness back I'd have to find her and beg her to forgive me.
She'd be about sixteen if I've done my math right. Really she must be so angry with me for leaving her. Then again she's always been absent-minded, I guess you could say she gets that from me. Maybe she'll be like she always was and welcome me with open arms and tears in her eyes like any little girl would.
But she's not a little girl anymore. By now she must have figured out that all those times I tried selling her or leaving her behind I was really trying to rid her of me for good. What an idiot I'd been not to realize her laughter was the only thing that made me smile after the loss of Margaret to that nasty plague that stole her away from me. Sure here and there when I've been drunk I'll have a few laughs with the other drunks, but soon enough I'll sober up and remember exactly why my laughter isn't meaningful anymore, and that it can only be my fault.
Really I shouldn't be wasting time talking to you people, or anyone else for that matter. Rather I should be searching for my lost daughter, whom I can only pray is still alive. After all, her mother had a weak immune system; it wouldn't be surprising if she'd long since died back then. But I can't think like that, I won't stop looking until I've found either a grave or her familiar yet aged face. Yet my thoughts continue to stray to the dark side, asking terrible questions I hope never to answer, or at least to answer more positively.
What if she's changed her name, or worse forgotten it? Did the plague steal her as well? Will I live to see my daughter's face? Will she want to see mine? What if I'm staring her straight in the face and I just don't recognize her? Will she recognize me, and if she does will she kill me on sight? She's always had a love for the ocean, what if that's how she's ended her misery? Then I won't find hide or hair of her, and perhaps that's why the people I've asked about her from don't even listen? What am I doing? I can't think like that!
So I'll just keep my thoughts blank as I trudge down this miserable dirt road towards some Inn I hope to spend the night at. I can't help, or even fight the thought that this place is familiar, yet I can't seem to place it in my memories. Perhaps I've been here before, drunk as usual, during the year I call my "dark year"? Clever isn't it? Absent-minded my daughter Tristen was, but a clever one that always knew how to get her out of trouble, escape my wrath or calm me down so to speak. Miss the little git I do! But thinking about her like this is painful, living in the past is painful, and so I will keep my mind of silence while entering this Tavern/Inn. What was the name on the swinging board? Baggins' Tavern, where have I read that before? Oh well, perhaps I heard it traveling. Maybe that's why it's so very familiar?
"What'll you have?" A woman asks me as I plop into the nearest chair seated next to a small round table, just fit for one, a loner like me.
"Swig of brandy if you don't mind." I answer lazily. It's been nearly a week since I've stopped somewhere long enough for a good rest. My mind is too determined on finding my daughter to stop for long and rest. Unexpectedly the waitress sits down rather then fetches my drink, and proceeds staring at me funny like.
"Haven't I seen you before?" comes her whiney unattractive voice. Despite her voice she's quite pretty, though I haven't been seriously attracted to anyone since my Margaret. How I miss Margaret's homely beautiful face. I recall little Tristen having quite the same beauty, though she'd rub that off with a dash of dirt the moment she stepped out a door. Tomb Boy little Tristen was, how I miss her. Especially when it rains, anything having to do with water she loved, and would constantly play out in the rain, despite the fact she could catch a cold, which could easily turn into something much worse in this day and age.
"I don't think so, though the name of your Tavern does sound familiar." The waitress nods and gets up, but something about that nod was familiar, as well as the pity in those ever so familiar eyes, which makes me do what I'm proceeding to do. Without warning, to her or me, I reach out and grab her wrist, though gently as not to frighten the dear, that rather looks a touch older then me. "I've lost someone dear to me, by chance would you happen to know of a little- I mean girl named Tristen? Sixteen she'd be to this day." Surprisingly this woman's eyes widen in recognition and amazement.
"And whom would you be to young Tristen?" The woman's voice is spiteful. Ah, now I recognize her, this is the Inn I left Tristen at! Well at least I can so hope, but why don't I remember where I left the girl exactly? I don't remember leaving her in anyone's most certain care? Most definitely I wouldn't leave my own daughter with someone abusive, no matter how drunk I may be or would have been.
"I be her father, if she still have me." Sadly I bow my head, not knowing if this woman is just being cruel to make me think of my daughter and play my emotions like this, or if she truly knows where Tristen is.
"Aye, I thought as much. You have the child's eyes, though yours are filled with sadness. I only wish now I hadn't sent the dear on that errand. Angry I was at her for breaking a handful of our best plates." The woman seats herself again, while my grip on her wrist tightens. Has this woman hurt my Tristen? If she has I'll report back to my ship at once and have the captain send some men abroad land with me to burn this tavern down!
"Tristen, where is she?" I question, and to my mostly pointed ears I can tell I sound torn between panic and anger. The woman looks up, sorrow and regret in her eyes.
"The child had such a love for the ocean, really I knew I shouldn't send her. A man came to the tavern four years back asking for a favor. Asked if there was anyone here willing to run a parcel down to the harbor and find a man named Rigors, a captain of some ship I can't remember the name of clearly. I was so angry with Tristen sent her running to that harbor I did. Don't know what happened to her, but haven't seen her since. I still pray she'll someday come back, at the very least so I can apologize. But I highly doubt she'll remember or even have a grudge to hold. Such a carefree child you had begun to rise. Even during the most serious of situations she always kept her calm and carelessness. Her love of ships must have been much too great, I can only pray she didn't go and do something foolish she so is prone to." The woman talked with such regret even with my own self-pity pity for this woman rushed out of my every poor. Still my thoughts are now too frantic to allow me to think clearly, and I am forced to ask questions on my mind. Perhaps there is hope still for finding my daughter and starting over once more.
"You say the mates name was Rigors she was to deliver this parcel to?" The woman nods. "Doesn't have the slightest guess what the ship's name be?" My tone to me sounds rather desperate. The woman shrugs.
"Could have been something to do with a Maiden. Otherwise my guess would be an old girlfriend or the sort." Rather childish she is to be so careless about my lost little girl. Rather then give into my urge to cur her hand right off as I've done only once before and to a man, I release the woman's wrist and instead stand up, my energy renewed, along with my old hopes of finding my long since lost daughter.
"Thank you, been a great help you have." With that I turn and walk out the Tavern's doors swiftly. I can feel the woman's eyes as it starts to rain, watching my retreating back. Such a shame it was to leave the warmth and coziness of that familiar Tavern, but my thoughts are only on finding Tristen, that last ray of hope I can only cling onto, praying that it may be my girl.
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Author's Note: Thanks to all you who have been reading, and special thanks to those that have reviewed! Yes this is an Alternate Universe sort of deal, guess I should have mentioned that in the first Chapter, or maybe in the Summary. Oh snaps, all is well and done with, no use crying over spilled milk, besides I'm saying it now aren't I? The disclaimer is at the end of the Chapters from now on. If anyone is out there that can help me with the anatomy of a ship (like one of those old fashioned kind set way back in the day,) Then that'd be superbly appreciated. Thanks again, bubye now!
Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to Peter Pan. I do own the rights to Tristen and Nat however.