Author-ess Here!
Sorry for the delay in chapters, but I've been assaulted by term papers lately. I still have one to do and so I shouldn't ~technically~ be writing this ... but if you don't tell my English professors, neither will I *winks*
There's actually a ~reason~ why I'm making this special post. Does anyone realize what day January 28th is? Is anyone who reads this a Lord of the Rings movie fan? It was Elijah Wood's birthday! Clearly, this chapter will be wrought with gratuitous references to Lord of the Rings.
This one's for you, Blue Eyes. I hope you're not adverse to a little cameo appearance.
Nine
Dana Flint opened one eye. She would have opened the other one, but it, along with her nose, was pressed firmly onto her pillow. She looked around and listened again for the soft knock that she thought she'd heard.
Knock, knock.
Dana chuckled to herself as she rolled off of her stomach and set her feet on the cold floor. Even Will's knock was gentlemanly and polite. She snorted. It was nearly time to change that. With a rub over her face and a pause to pull on a shirt, she opened the door and smiled at him.
"I must say, William, you are the most accurate wake-up call that I've ever had."
He smiled slightly, and stepped into her small home to be out of the evening air's chill. "What are we going to do tonight? I just didn't feel like being inside working again."
Dana laughed and cast about for her hat and jacket. "Will - not wanting to work. Now that's a new one on me. Well, Mr. Cabin Fever, what would you like to do this evening? You know that my vote goes for replacing our blood with rum, but I'd be happy to hear your ideas."
Will nodded to the sword that Dana had propped up against one wall. The gun-maker shook her head. "While I would love to hack at things in the dark, my arms are still sore from this morning. Go ahead, try and see if you can find some more rum-free entertainment."
"Speaking of darkness, I can't shoot a pistol if I can't see what I'm aiming at - "
Smirk. "Not that you'd hit anything anyway."
" - so I suppose that's another useless idea."
"And do you know why it was a useless idea?"
"Probably because it didn't involve making you drunk."
"Good boy. Got it in one."
Will laughed in spite of himself. "All right, Flint. You gave me a good workout this morning. I suppose the least that I can do is let you loose at the pub and help you make a fool of yourself."
Dana grinned and slipped her hat over her hair. "That, my dear, I need no help with."
~
The Poco was a nice enough place to eat. It was an even nicer place if one happened to have some business regarding pirates or pirate-related things, due to the ever-attentive ear of hostess Carine. But for the weary - or unweary but distressingly sober - traveler, there was no place like the Green Dragon.
After all, the only brew for the brave and true comes from the Green Dragon.
Dana and Will strolled down the evening streets of Port Royale. The night was off to a wonderful start, they both agreed. Will thought so because the water was still and lapping at the boards of the dock with a gentle rhythm that could never be replicated by harp or fiddle. Dana thought so because Will was introducing her to a new place to drink.
"I can't believe that you've never even so much as mentioned it. Let's be honest, William. I think it's in my best interest to know these sorts of things."
"You drink often enough, Dana."
"Only when I'm out with friends. Or alone. Or thirsty."
"Like I said."
"I'm curious, Will. You've been very gallant in avoiding coming right out and ~saying~ that you believe I drink far too much. Have you, yourself, ever partaken?"
Will shifted in a slightly uncomfortable way. "Well ..."
Dana stopped in the middle of the road. "You didn't just say no."
The blacksmith drew himself up to his full height. "Exactly. I didn't say no."
"But you're not telling my that you ~have~ either."
Will paused. "Well ... that's also true."
"I can't believe it! You've never been out drinking?!"
"No."
"You are a grown, and dare-I-say, RESPECTABLE young gentleman. You have a healthy business, an uncanny knack for combat with pointed weapons ... you have sailed on a pirate ship and under a pirate flag. But you have NEVER tasted rum?"
"No."
"Beer?"
"No."
Dana laughed suddenly. "Oh my dear, blacksmith. This night is going to be more fun than I thought!"
~
The Green Dragon was not a large pub, but it did not need to be. It was nestled between the shops and businesses that lined the side of the dock farthest from the more respectable section of the Port. It could be argued that the place was a popular one with the rougher crowds that often came to the Port to stretch their legs. Will visited it often, and was usually - and happily - reminded of the tamer portions of Tortuga.
Dana stopped just outside the pub and turned her face upwards to the sign above its door. "Is that supposed to be a dragon?" An image of a curled green worm had been painted onto the wood.
"Have you ever seen a dragon?"
"No ... but one naturally assumes that they would be more impressive." Will laughed and held open the door for her.
The inside of the pub was thick with pipe-smoke and conversation. Dana stepped inside with a grin and a long look around. The walls were draped with worn tapestries whose faded colors depicted epic battles and rolling grasses. The tables were long and crowded, as was the bar that stretched across the length of the back wall. Three rather-fetching serving wenches were being kept very busy.
Dana turned back to Will with a smile. "I like it already."
"That's a good start. They haven't even set a mug in front of you yet. I'm impressed."
"Well that situation will have to be remedied, won't it?"
Dana proceeded to make her way past the filled chairs and tables to the back of the Green Dragon with Will in tow. She edged her way through the vigorous crowd easily enough, until an arm suddenly blocked her way. Will, aware of Dana's remarkable appreciation for such rude interruptions, made himself scarce.
"Well now, look at this filly here," a low voice rumbled. Its owner soon came into view, an impossibly tall, barrel-chested man with a bald head. He had a multitude of earrings in both ears. He licked his lips. "Isn't this just a fine place to find some company?"
Dana smiled sweetly at him, and her eyes followed the hand that he placed on her shoulder. "It's true that I am very fine company," she purred, and slipped her own hand inside her coat. "In fact, I've been called quite explosive - "
Before she could finish, a figure came between her and the fortunately-rescued man. "Hold it there, Thompson. This one's a new customer." The - by the sounds of him - young gentleman who had stepped in front of her was much shorter than the man that he confronted, but the large sailor hesitated, then nodded.
"Aye, Jones. Shame she ain't a regular."
"Cryin' shame," Dana added, and took her hand off of her pistol. She and her rescuer watched the burly man make his way back into the crowd. "I guess I should say thank you ..."
"That's not really necessary," said the younger man, and turned to face her. He was barely shorter than she, and a mess of dark hair covered his head and framed his fair-skinned face. His wide and smiling eyes were blue. Dana found herself suddenly speechless. "I hate to see newcomers being subjected to such ... rough treatment."
"I ... I don't know what to say." The youth laughed at her musically and took her by the arm.
"Say you'll have a drink with me. My name is Jones. Jones Underhill."
~
Jones led Dana to an unoccupied corner of the bar and gestured for her to have a seat. She found it hard to take her eyes off of his. "How ... how did ... ?"
Jones lifted a hand and a serving-wench scurried over. "How did I dissuade a sailor more than three times my size to let me have his prize? I own this pub." He smiled. "Without me, where would these fine gentlemen settle themselves after a hard day's work?"
Dana nodded, and asked the girl for a bottle of rum. Jones raised his eyebrows, but made no comment. Dana said nothing until her drink arrived, then took a generous swallow of it. "I don't mean to sound ungrateful, Jones. But I would have been able to take care of myself."
The dark-haired young man allowed his eyes to run over her figure and let them stop on the belt under her jacket. "I imagine you would be able to, yes. After all, very few helpless young maidens care to venture to my establishment. Are you here alone?"
Dana swallowed another mouthful. "No, actually. I'm here with a friend. Will Turner? Have you met him?"
"Turner ... the blacksmith?"
"The same."
With a soft laugh, Jones leaned back in his chair. "Yes, we've met. He comes here rather often. We also did a lot of traveling together when we were younger." The gun-maker snorted and eyed Jones critically.
"When you were younger. You don't appear to be very old now."
Jones smiled and his eyes twinkled. "I'm old enough, Dana."
At that moment, and with a hoot of laughter, Will emerged from the crowd. "I love this place! My ass has been pinched six times!"
"Why Will, I didn't think you had it in you."
Will shrugged and picked up Dana's bottle. "It just reminds me of a place that I once visited." He took a swig from the bottle with a nod to Jones while Dana watched, wide-eyed.
"Did you just take a drink from my bottle?" Will swallowed the liquid with a grimace. Jones seemed equally astonished.
"I did. I've decided to start living in a more exciting way. What do you think?"
"I think that's wonderful. I would just suggest one thing ..."
Will pulled a free chair from a neighboring table and settled himself beside her. He folded his hands on the tabletop. "And what's that?"
Dana, faster than his eye could follow, pulled a knife from her boot and plunged it into the wood just shy of his hands. "That you get your own bottle."
Sorry for the delay in chapters, but I've been assaulted by term papers lately. I still have one to do and so I shouldn't ~technically~ be writing this ... but if you don't tell my English professors, neither will I *winks*
There's actually a ~reason~ why I'm making this special post. Does anyone realize what day January 28th is? Is anyone who reads this a Lord of the Rings movie fan? It was Elijah Wood's birthday! Clearly, this chapter will be wrought with gratuitous references to Lord of the Rings.
This one's for you, Blue Eyes. I hope you're not adverse to a little cameo appearance.
Nine
Dana Flint opened one eye. She would have opened the other one, but it, along with her nose, was pressed firmly onto her pillow. She looked around and listened again for the soft knock that she thought she'd heard.
Knock, knock.
Dana chuckled to herself as she rolled off of her stomach and set her feet on the cold floor. Even Will's knock was gentlemanly and polite. She snorted. It was nearly time to change that. With a rub over her face and a pause to pull on a shirt, she opened the door and smiled at him.
"I must say, William, you are the most accurate wake-up call that I've ever had."
He smiled slightly, and stepped into her small home to be out of the evening air's chill. "What are we going to do tonight? I just didn't feel like being inside working again."
Dana laughed and cast about for her hat and jacket. "Will - not wanting to work. Now that's a new one on me. Well, Mr. Cabin Fever, what would you like to do this evening? You know that my vote goes for replacing our blood with rum, but I'd be happy to hear your ideas."
Will nodded to the sword that Dana had propped up against one wall. The gun-maker shook her head. "While I would love to hack at things in the dark, my arms are still sore from this morning. Go ahead, try and see if you can find some more rum-free entertainment."
"Speaking of darkness, I can't shoot a pistol if I can't see what I'm aiming at - "
Smirk. "Not that you'd hit anything anyway."
" - so I suppose that's another useless idea."
"And do you know why it was a useless idea?"
"Probably because it didn't involve making you drunk."
"Good boy. Got it in one."
Will laughed in spite of himself. "All right, Flint. You gave me a good workout this morning. I suppose the least that I can do is let you loose at the pub and help you make a fool of yourself."
Dana grinned and slipped her hat over her hair. "That, my dear, I need no help with."
~
The Poco was a nice enough place to eat. It was an even nicer place if one happened to have some business regarding pirates or pirate-related things, due to the ever-attentive ear of hostess Carine. But for the weary - or unweary but distressingly sober - traveler, there was no place like the Green Dragon.
After all, the only brew for the brave and true comes from the Green Dragon.
Dana and Will strolled down the evening streets of Port Royale. The night was off to a wonderful start, they both agreed. Will thought so because the water was still and lapping at the boards of the dock with a gentle rhythm that could never be replicated by harp or fiddle. Dana thought so because Will was introducing her to a new place to drink.
"I can't believe that you've never even so much as mentioned it. Let's be honest, William. I think it's in my best interest to know these sorts of things."
"You drink often enough, Dana."
"Only when I'm out with friends. Or alone. Or thirsty."
"Like I said."
"I'm curious, Will. You've been very gallant in avoiding coming right out and ~saying~ that you believe I drink far too much. Have you, yourself, ever partaken?"
Will shifted in a slightly uncomfortable way. "Well ..."
Dana stopped in the middle of the road. "You didn't just say no."
The blacksmith drew himself up to his full height. "Exactly. I didn't say no."
"But you're not telling my that you ~have~ either."
Will paused. "Well ... that's also true."
"I can't believe it! You've never been out drinking?!"
"No."
"You are a grown, and dare-I-say, RESPECTABLE young gentleman. You have a healthy business, an uncanny knack for combat with pointed weapons ... you have sailed on a pirate ship and under a pirate flag. But you have NEVER tasted rum?"
"No."
"Beer?"
"No."
Dana laughed suddenly. "Oh my dear, blacksmith. This night is going to be more fun than I thought!"
~
The Green Dragon was not a large pub, but it did not need to be. It was nestled between the shops and businesses that lined the side of the dock farthest from the more respectable section of the Port. It could be argued that the place was a popular one with the rougher crowds that often came to the Port to stretch their legs. Will visited it often, and was usually - and happily - reminded of the tamer portions of Tortuga.
Dana stopped just outside the pub and turned her face upwards to the sign above its door. "Is that supposed to be a dragon?" An image of a curled green worm had been painted onto the wood.
"Have you ever seen a dragon?"
"No ... but one naturally assumes that they would be more impressive." Will laughed and held open the door for her.
The inside of the pub was thick with pipe-smoke and conversation. Dana stepped inside with a grin and a long look around. The walls were draped with worn tapestries whose faded colors depicted epic battles and rolling grasses. The tables were long and crowded, as was the bar that stretched across the length of the back wall. Three rather-fetching serving wenches were being kept very busy.
Dana turned back to Will with a smile. "I like it already."
"That's a good start. They haven't even set a mug in front of you yet. I'm impressed."
"Well that situation will have to be remedied, won't it?"
Dana proceeded to make her way past the filled chairs and tables to the back of the Green Dragon with Will in tow. She edged her way through the vigorous crowd easily enough, until an arm suddenly blocked her way. Will, aware of Dana's remarkable appreciation for such rude interruptions, made himself scarce.
"Well now, look at this filly here," a low voice rumbled. Its owner soon came into view, an impossibly tall, barrel-chested man with a bald head. He had a multitude of earrings in both ears. He licked his lips. "Isn't this just a fine place to find some company?"
Dana smiled sweetly at him, and her eyes followed the hand that he placed on her shoulder. "It's true that I am very fine company," she purred, and slipped her own hand inside her coat. "In fact, I've been called quite explosive - "
Before she could finish, a figure came between her and the fortunately-rescued man. "Hold it there, Thompson. This one's a new customer." The - by the sounds of him - young gentleman who had stepped in front of her was much shorter than the man that he confronted, but the large sailor hesitated, then nodded.
"Aye, Jones. Shame she ain't a regular."
"Cryin' shame," Dana added, and took her hand off of her pistol. She and her rescuer watched the burly man make his way back into the crowd. "I guess I should say thank you ..."
"That's not really necessary," said the younger man, and turned to face her. He was barely shorter than she, and a mess of dark hair covered his head and framed his fair-skinned face. His wide and smiling eyes were blue. Dana found herself suddenly speechless. "I hate to see newcomers being subjected to such ... rough treatment."
"I ... I don't know what to say." The youth laughed at her musically and took her by the arm.
"Say you'll have a drink with me. My name is Jones. Jones Underhill."
~
Jones led Dana to an unoccupied corner of the bar and gestured for her to have a seat. She found it hard to take her eyes off of his. "How ... how did ... ?"
Jones lifted a hand and a serving-wench scurried over. "How did I dissuade a sailor more than three times my size to let me have his prize? I own this pub." He smiled. "Without me, where would these fine gentlemen settle themselves after a hard day's work?"
Dana nodded, and asked the girl for a bottle of rum. Jones raised his eyebrows, but made no comment. Dana said nothing until her drink arrived, then took a generous swallow of it. "I don't mean to sound ungrateful, Jones. But I would have been able to take care of myself."
The dark-haired young man allowed his eyes to run over her figure and let them stop on the belt under her jacket. "I imagine you would be able to, yes. After all, very few helpless young maidens care to venture to my establishment. Are you here alone?"
Dana swallowed another mouthful. "No, actually. I'm here with a friend. Will Turner? Have you met him?"
"Turner ... the blacksmith?"
"The same."
With a soft laugh, Jones leaned back in his chair. "Yes, we've met. He comes here rather often. We also did a lot of traveling together when we were younger." The gun-maker snorted and eyed Jones critically.
"When you were younger. You don't appear to be very old now."
Jones smiled and his eyes twinkled. "I'm old enough, Dana."
At that moment, and with a hoot of laughter, Will emerged from the crowd. "I love this place! My ass has been pinched six times!"
"Why Will, I didn't think you had it in you."
Will shrugged and picked up Dana's bottle. "It just reminds me of a place that I once visited." He took a swig from the bottle with a nod to Jones while Dana watched, wide-eyed.
"Did you just take a drink from my bottle?" Will swallowed the liquid with a grimace. Jones seemed equally astonished.
"I did. I've decided to start living in a more exciting way. What do you think?"
"I think that's wonderful. I would just suggest one thing ..."
Will pulled a free chair from a neighboring table and settled himself beside her. He folded his hands on the tabletop. "And what's that?"
Dana, faster than his eye could follow, pulled a knife from her boot and plunged it into the wood just shy of his hands. "That you get your own bottle."