Jack never came to dinner. The fellowship took their meal with the crew in
the commons below. They sipped their soup quietly while the crew talked
back and forth. The crew was small- amazingly small. In fact the question
crossed each of their minds "Could a ship could sail with so few men?" But
the ship flew across the water, so they put their minds at ease. They had
other things to worry about- particularly the dinner conversation.
"NO WAY!" Roux said crossing his arms across his chest "I've said it once, and if I really must- I'll say it again- Earendil is a story...that's all."
"What do you say to the star guiding this ship?" Vim asked vehemently.
"Just another light," Roux said with a hint of satisfaction. Vim seemed indignant for his cause.
"How can you mock the only gift given to your race?" Vim asked. Roux sat up.
"You mean besides death? I do wonder why a dwarf would care so much?" Roux said leaning on the table. Vim seemed to back up from Roux's glance. Roux was the swayman of the ship. He would keep the crew entertained during their work with his guitar strings, but he could get into very dark moods.
"I don't' care for your star or your story," Lorna's voice cut the air from the corner of the room. She was eating alone. Well she actually wasn't eating - it was more like staring into her soup. Roux and Vim looked afraid but that was all she said. She went back to her food.
"If you don't believe in Earendil, then what do you make of Jack's tale?" Vim said quietly. Roux leaned forward.
" The captain has merit. He does. Back in the good ole days I saw him take a Gondor without firing a single shot. He can weather the toughest storm without the slightest stress to him. Why He's run the Anduin more times then is healthy for even the luckiest pirate and that new king hasn't caught him once, but the West? I've seen him play cat and mouse with Leo enough times to know he can really jerk a man's chain and I'm not one to be pulled along. Believe what you like."
The fellowship was following all of this. Frodo didn't quite understand what they were talking about. Were they debating the validity of Jack's claim to have made the West passage? He also made sure to make note of the dynamics, the hierarchy of the crew so as to know who to talk to and who to listen to and who to avoid all together. Sam had opted for avoiding all of them all together and had retreated to the galley to try and save a wretched soup.
Sam stopped dead in his tracks when he entered the galley and found Jack Sparrow cooking. He stood over the grill and gently prodded large pieces of pineapple as they hissed and sputtered. Sam turned to try and leave before he was noticed.
"You, Gamgee- you hungry?" There wasn't anything else the pirate could have said that would've gotten Sam to stop and walk back towards him. He set his bowl of soup in a bucket without evening looking at it as the aroma of the sweet sautéed fruit wafted into his nose. He pulled up a stool and sat down beside the pirate-turned-chef. Jack smiled sideways at his newly devoted mate. He took a knife and guided a chopping board full of chicken into the pan to meet the pineapple. They greeted each other with elated hisses and screams. Sam watched intently.
" Wouldn't of thought a pirate could cook," Sam mused.
"Oh you'd be surprised how similar the two are," jack said softly. Sam looked a little taken aback.
"I fancy myself a pretty good cook- but I'm no pirate," He said a hint of offense in his voice.
"Tell me, what does it take to be a good- no, a great cook?" Jack said as he dashed some peppers into the pan.
"Well, you've got to be creative, that's the most important- good food should always be more than you expected. It should push the limits of your kitchen and win you friends - and enemies." By this time Sam's eyes were shinning "You've got to have persistence. You might have to try the same dish a hundred times before you get it right but once you do its just too good to be true-," Sam stopped as Jack's words hit home. He looked at Jack with wild eyes. For a second he felt enraged about this discovery but the scent of Jack's steaming array of flavors enticed him to submit. He smiled. Jack poured some yellow liquid onto the pan and its contents.
"What was that you just added?" Sam asked as he crept over to get a closer look at what his Captain was preparing.
"The left over juice from the pineapple- it will make up part of the sauce." He took his fork and pushed and prodded the meat and fruit across the pan. Sam had now thrown his hostility to the side.
"What else do you add?" Jack turned and grinned.
"It's time."
"Time for what?"
"The secret ingredient," Jack reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a silver flask. He opened it and doused the pan. "Rum." Jack took his fork and speared a piece of chicken brought it down for Sam. He took it with a mix of reluctance and anticipation. The taste melted any doubts he ever had or could have against the poor man. He didn't care if Jack had reached the West or if he was a con. Whatever he was, he was real.
"Why you've made enough for three hobbits," Sam exclaimed with a full mouth as he watched Jack lead the pound of chicken and pineapple onto a plate.
"No, just enough for two hobbits and a pirate." he said with a wink. He then took a taste of the sauce with his finger and smacked his lips.
"Needs more peppers. Frodo to loosen up a bit." Sam had already decided he could overlook Jack's shadiness. But now he found himself overcome. Jack had made the food for Frodo. For years since their childhood Sam had made it his duty to look after Frodo, for no other reason than that he loved him- loved him for all the world. He would rise and make breakfasts of smothering proportions, pancakes, bacon, sausage and eggs, with fresh juice and steaming coffee. Frodo would walk in still rubbing his eyes and the aroma would drift in causing him to look around and bless Sam. He would sit down at the table in Bag-End and eat a little bit of everything, mostly to please Sam. He never told him, but he never had an appetite in the morning. But he felt Sam's care. Sam knew that. He'd see it in his eyes every time. Of course everything changed when they went on the quest. Meals became desperate. Frodo's appetite picked up for a while, and then began to dwindle into almost nothing. Sam didn't get to show his master devotion expect by starving himself.
Now here was a pirate, perhaps the very kind of man that they had hoped to vanquish with the destruction of the Ring, cooking for his Frodo. Sam should've been jealous and perhaps he was for a moment, but another emotion took over too fast. He felt sheer wonderment that he wasn't alone in the world. There was someone else who cared the way he did, someone else who loved Frodo.
Though they did cook very differently. Sam cooked him meat and potatoes. Sam wanted to protect Frodo. On their quest he would lose sleep so Frodo could sleep longer. Jack cooked with rum. Jack wanted to wake Frodo up to the world, to himself. Sam should've felt apprehensive about this difference, but even that didn't disturb him. He felt Jack's motive, and even if he hadn't the changes that had come over Frodo spoke for him.
Jack handed Sam his plate and one for Frodo. The steam circled up and seemed to clothe Jack in mystery.
"I don't know that I hold to your kind," Sam said looking at the pirate fondly "But I've seen what you've done to him," Sam's eyes twinkled with joy he didn't knew existed. After the bleak years between Mordor and the Havens, the miracle he'd been waiting for had happened.
"Thank you," Sam said quietly. Jack took the flask out of his pocket and took a long swig.
"Your welcome."
***
The Sun illuminated the figure of Jack Sparrow as he slowly guided the Xandiar into the anchorage of Hilling.
"Lovely, isn't in?" he said as he saw Imbalech approaching out of the corner of his eye. Imbalech looked out at the blushing water darkened only by the looming shape of Hilling and she sighed.
"You know it used be a hill amidst a beautiful country before the
world was changed." "Beleriand, I know...elves lived there once,"
Imbalech mused.
"Not just elves, Love. The sons of Feanor," Jack said.
"Don't call me "Love", " she said reproachfully. Jack turned to her.
"Feeling better are we, Loving?" he cocked a wry smile. She glared at
him and turned to leave.
"Come now, it's just- well you're so very loving to me is all...like the way you denied me passage to the West, and then how you tried to slit the throat of the only person on my side," he looked at her keenly as his words worked their way into her mind. She turned back around. "I didn't understand you, and I still don't. What business do you have with Numenor or the West?" she said looking deep into his eyes. He moved towards her. "I know you don't trust me. But I trust myself. I trust that I'll get what I want whether you help me or not. You need to look inside yourself and decide if you want to stick around to find out what that is or be thrown over board, savvy?" He smiled curtly. Her eyes were wide with disbelief at the disarmingly charming way he had threatened her life. She had no reason to trust, no in fact she had every reason to not trust him, yet something inside her, whether it was foresight or not moved her. "Jack Sparrow, I take you as my captain- and hold to your trust." "Feel better?" he asked. She looked within herself and found that much of her anger had dissipated.
"I do feel more like myself -yes," She answered. There was a long silence. She looked at him intently.
"How is it that you don't feel it?" She asked.
"I feel it." Imbalech wrinkled her brow.
"I'm the captain. It's my job to know everything that's going on. If I didn't "feel" it, I would be at a disadvantage, wouldn't I?"
"But-"
"What you really want to know is why I don't react to it." Imbalech nodded silently. Jack looked out into the night.
"My freedom is the only thing...that no one can take from me...it's the only thing that matters...the only thing that is lasts," He turned back to her and met her eyes, "I don't suffer anyone to touch it." Imbalech's form was aglow in the light of the rising sun.
"I can't..." She said quietly "its too strong." Jack looked at her and smiled.
"Strong, weak, good, evil- means nothing to me. They're arbitrary lines drawn to make you choose. I don't want to choose. I want everything." His smile widened into a grin. Imbalech was about to say something else when the two hobbits were heard coming noisily up the stairs. They made they're way onto the deck and then spotted Jack and Imbalech.
"How long before we go ashore, Captain?" Frodo asked. He seemed in good spirits.
"How long before my stomach can stay in one place again?" Sam muttered under his breath. "Roux, Vim- make ready the long boat!" Jack called out. A muffled answer was heard. He leaned over to the hobbits. "Have you ever had breakfast at a pirate hide-out?"
"NO WAY!" Roux said crossing his arms across his chest "I've said it once, and if I really must- I'll say it again- Earendil is a story...that's all."
"What do you say to the star guiding this ship?" Vim asked vehemently.
"Just another light," Roux said with a hint of satisfaction. Vim seemed indignant for his cause.
"How can you mock the only gift given to your race?" Vim asked. Roux sat up.
"You mean besides death? I do wonder why a dwarf would care so much?" Roux said leaning on the table. Vim seemed to back up from Roux's glance. Roux was the swayman of the ship. He would keep the crew entertained during their work with his guitar strings, but he could get into very dark moods.
"I don't' care for your star or your story," Lorna's voice cut the air from the corner of the room. She was eating alone. Well she actually wasn't eating - it was more like staring into her soup. Roux and Vim looked afraid but that was all she said. She went back to her food.
"If you don't believe in Earendil, then what do you make of Jack's tale?" Vim said quietly. Roux leaned forward.
" The captain has merit. He does. Back in the good ole days I saw him take a Gondor without firing a single shot. He can weather the toughest storm without the slightest stress to him. Why He's run the Anduin more times then is healthy for even the luckiest pirate and that new king hasn't caught him once, but the West? I've seen him play cat and mouse with Leo enough times to know he can really jerk a man's chain and I'm not one to be pulled along. Believe what you like."
The fellowship was following all of this. Frodo didn't quite understand what they were talking about. Were they debating the validity of Jack's claim to have made the West passage? He also made sure to make note of the dynamics, the hierarchy of the crew so as to know who to talk to and who to listen to and who to avoid all together. Sam had opted for avoiding all of them all together and had retreated to the galley to try and save a wretched soup.
Sam stopped dead in his tracks when he entered the galley and found Jack Sparrow cooking. He stood over the grill and gently prodded large pieces of pineapple as they hissed and sputtered. Sam turned to try and leave before he was noticed.
"You, Gamgee- you hungry?" There wasn't anything else the pirate could have said that would've gotten Sam to stop and walk back towards him. He set his bowl of soup in a bucket without evening looking at it as the aroma of the sweet sautéed fruit wafted into his nose. He pulled up a stool and sat down beside the pirate-turned-chef. Jack smiled sideways at his newly devoted mate. He took a knife and guided a chopping board full of chicken into the pan to meet the pineapple. They greeted each other with elated hisses and screams. Sam watched intently.
" Wouldn't of thought a pirate could cook," Sam mused.
"Oh you'd be surprised how similar the two are," jack said softly. Sam looked a little taken aback.
"I fancy myself a pretty good cook- but I'm no pirate," He said a hint of offense in his voice.
"Tell me, what does it take to be a good- no, a great cook?" Jack said as he dashed some peppers into the pan.
"Well, you've got to be creative, that's the most important- good food should always be more than you expected. It should push the limits of your kitchen and win you friends - and enemies." By this time Sam's eyes were shinning "You've got to have persistence. You might have to try the same dish a hundred times before you get it right but once you do its just too good to be true-," Sam stopped as Jack's words hit home. He looked at Jack with wild eyes. For a second he felt enraged about this discovery but the scent of Jack's steaming array of flavors enticed him to submit. He smiled. Jack poured some yellow liquid onto the pan and its contents.
"What was that you just added?" Sam asked as he crept over to get a closer look at what his Captain was preparing.
"The left over juice from the pineapple- it will make up part of the sauce." He took his fork and pushed and prodded the meat and fruit across the pan. Sam had now thrown his hostility to the side.
"What else do you add?" Jack turned and grinned.
"It's time."
"Time for what?"
"The secret ingredient," Jack reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a silver flask. He opened it and doused the pan. "Rum." Jack took his fork and speared a piece of chicken brought it down for Sam. He took it with a mix of reluctance and anticipation. The taste melted any doubts he ever had or could have against the poor man. He didn't care if Jack had reached the West or if he was a con. Whatever he was, he was real.
"Why you've made enough for three hobbits," Sam exclaimed with a full mouth as he watched Jack lead the pound of chicken and pineapple onto a plate.
"No, just enough for two hobbits and a pirate." he said with a wink. He then took a taste of the sauce with his finger and smacked his lips.
"Needs more peppers. Frodo to loosen up a bit." Sam had already decided he could overlook Jack's shadiness. But now he found himself overcome. Jack had made the food for Frodo. For years since their childhood Sam had made it his duty to look after Frodo, for no other reason than that he loved him- loved him for all the world. He would rise and make breakfasts of smothering proportions, pancakes, bacon, sausage and eggs, with fresh juice and steaming coffee. Frodo would walk in still rubbing his eyes and the aroma would drift in causing him to look around and bless Sam. He would sit down at the table in Bag-End and eat a little bit of everything, mostly to please Sam. He never told him, but he never had an appetite in the morning. But he felt Sam's care. Sam knew that. He'd see it in his eyes every time. Of course everything changed when they went on the quest. Meals became desperate. Frodo's appetite picked up for a while, and then began to dwindle into almost nothing. Sam didn't get to show his master devotion expect by starving himself.
Now here was a pirate, perhaps the very kind of man that they had hoped to vanquish with the destruction of the Ring, cooking for his Frodo. Sam should've been jealous and perhaps he was for a moment, but another emotion took over too fast. He felt sheer wonderment that he wasn't alone in the world. There was someone else who cared the way he did, someone else who loved Frodo.
Though they did cook very differently. Sam cooked him meat and potatoes. Sam wanted to protect Frodo. On their quest he would lose sleep so Frodo could sleep longer. Jack cooked with rum. Jack wanted to wake Frodo up to the world, to himself. Sam should've felt apprehensive about this difference, but even that didn't disturb him. He felt Jack's motive, and even if he hadn't the changes that had come over Frodo spoke for him.
Jack handed Sam his plate and one for Frodo. The steam circled up and seemed to clothe Jack in mystery.
"I don't know that I hold to your kind," Sam said looking at the pirate fondly "But I've seen what you've done to him," Sam's eyes twinkled with joy he didn't knew existed. After the bleak years between Mordor and the Havens, the miracle he'd been waiting for had happened.
"Thank you," Sam said quietly. Jack took the flask out of his pocket and took a long swig.
"Your welcome."
***
The Sun illuminated the figure of Jack Sparrow as he slowly guided the Xandiar into the anchorage of Hilling.
"Lovely, isn't in?" he said as he saw Imbalech approaching out of the corner of his eye. Imbalech looked out at the blushing water darkened only by the looming shape of Hilling and she sighed.
"You know it used be a hill amidst a beautiful country before the
world was changed." "Beleriand, I know...elves lived there once,"
Imbalech mused.
"Not just elves, Love. The sons of Feanor," Jack said.
"Don't call me "Love", " she said reproachfully. Jack turned to her.
"Feeling better are we, Loving?" he cocked a wry smile. She glared at
him and turned to leave.
"Come now, it's just- well you're so very loving to me is all...like the way you denied me passage to the West, and then how you tried to slit the throat of the only person on my side," he looked at her keenly as his words worked their way into her mind. She turned back around. "I didn't understand you, and I still don't. What business do you have with Numenor or the West?" she said looking deep into his eyes. He moved towards her. "I know you don't trust me. But I trust myself. I trust that I'll get what I want whether you help me or not. You need to look inside yourself and decide if you want to stick around to find out what that is or be thrown over board, savvy?" He smiled curtly. Her eyes were wide with disbelief at the disarmingly charming way he had threatened her life. She had no reason to trust, no in fact she had every reason to not trust him, yet something inside her, whether it was foresight or not moved her. "Jack Sparrow, I take you as my captain- and hold to your trust." "Feel better?" he asked. She looked within herself and found that much of her anger had dissipated.
"I do feel more like myself -yes," She answered. There was a long silence. She looked at him intently.
"How is it that you don't feel it?" She asked.
"I feel it." Imbalech wrinkled her brow.
"I'm the captain. It's my job to know everything that's going on. If I didn't "feel" it, I would be at a disadvantage, wouldn't I?"
"But-"
"What you really want to know is why I don't react to it." Imbalech nodded silently. Jack looked out into the night.
"My freedom is the only thing...that no one can take from me...it's the only thing that matters...the only thing that is lasts," He turned back to her and met her eyes, "I don't suffer anyone to touch it." Imbalech's form was aglow in the light of the rising sun.
"I can't..." She said quietly "its too strong." Jack looked at her and smiled.
"Strong, weak, good, evil- means nothing to me. They're arbitrary lines drawn to make you choose. I don't want to choose. I want everything." His smile widened into a grin. Imbalech was about to say something else when the two hobbits were heard coming noisily up the stairs. They made they're way onto the deck and then spotted Jack and Imbalech.
"How long before we go ashore, Captain?" Frodo asked. He seemed in good spirits.
"How long before my stomach can stay in one place again?" Sam muttered under his breath. "Roux, Vim- make ready the long boat!" Jack called out. A muffled answer was heard. He leaned over to the hobbits. "Have you ever had breakfast at a pirate hide-out?"
