Sword Edge Chapter 1, a pirates of the caribbean fanfic

Sword Edge

Disclaimer: not mine. Belong to Disney. Am only temporarily borrowing them, and then I shall return them to the Caribbean in time for the sequel (YAY!!!)

A/N: apologies if anyone seems out of character – this is my first PotC fic. Particularly Jack, who is incredibly hard to write, as he's such a visual person.

---------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 1

"Those swords will never be ready on time," Commodore Norrington informed Governor Swann. "I don't believe Turner has even started on them yet."

I am inclined to agree," replied the Governor, sighing. "One cannot really blame the boy, though. I lost my wife in childbirth, and now I have lost my daughter to the same fate. At least the child survived."

"And sees more of his grandfather and his nurse than of his father."

Swann nodded sadly. "Indeed. And I know not how to reach him. He is too lost in his despair and grief to heed me. He is not working as much as he would appear to be doing to most. He holes himself up in that smithy but frequently does no work – and when he does, the quality of his products is not as high as it used to be. I fear for him – if this continues, the people of Port Royal will soon begin to take their business elsewhere, and then Will will be unable to support his son. You know how proud he is, how determined he always was to prove that he could provide well enough for Elizabeth and any children they might have, without relying on myself." Another sigh. "I know not what I can do."

Norrington gazed out across the sea at the ships that came and went to and from the Caribbean port. He was beginning to get the glimmering of an idea. Not that he liked the way his mind was going. But Will Turner's grief was causing the Governor great worry – and besides, there was that order of swords that was waiting. He took a deep breath. "There…er…is one possibility," he said eventually.

The Governor turned to him, a flicker of hope in his eyes. "There is? What?"

The Commodore could not look at him. "Jack Sparrow."

Swann blinked. "You mean Captain Jack Sparrow."

Norrington resisted the urge to roll his eyes – it would be an action most inappropriate and juvenile for one of his rank. "Of course."

"What makes you think he would come? After all, you and he are hardly close friends."

"I have no idea whether or not he would come. It's worth a try, though. I need those swords, and soon." He glanced down at the dock below him, where a lonely-looking figure with curly dark brown hair pulled back into a ponytail sat, gazing into the water.

"How do you intend to find Sparrow?"

"Were I a gambling man, I would put money on him being in Tortuga. It is, after all, a pirate's paradise." He wrinkled his nose in disgust at the thought of the place.

"I bid you good luck, then."

-----------------------------------------

A few days later, Norrington found himself arriving in Tortuga. The appearance of the place did nothing to improve its reputation, and he struggled to prevent himself from wrinkling his nose in sheer disgust as his ship sailed into the dock. Idly, he scanned the ships that were already moored there, searching for Sparrow's ship, the Black Pearl. Seeing nothing, he wondered if perhaps Sparrow was not here after all. If he was not, the Commodore hoped that someone here would be able to enlighten him as to where the pirate was. It had been four years since Sparrow's somewhat unusual (but typical) departure from Port Royal. Three years since Will and Elizabeth had married.

One year since Elizabeth's death.

Norrington swallowed hard. He had grieved when she had died. Shortly after her acceptance of Will Turner's proposal of marriage, she had introduced Norrington to her close friend Anne, and the Commodore had fallen. Hard. He and Anne had been married six months now.

"Sir? What do you want us to do?"

Norrington snapped out of his thoughts and focused on Johnson. "All the crew are to remain here. You and I alone will search for Sparrow."

"Yes, sir."

A short while later, the two were taking their first steps in Tortuga. It was no better than when Norrington had viewed it from afar. In fact, it was worse. He felt very out of place here, even though he had changed out of his British Navy clothing (he did value his life, after all). Foul smells assaulted his nose, shrieks and uncouth shouts hit his ears, and the sights…Well, the less said about those, the better. He averted his gaze and instead concentrated on walking down the street, intent on finding someone who knew of Sparrow – or, better yet, Sparrow himself. Of course, in a place such as Tortuga, it could prove somewhat difficult and lengthy.

He racked his brains in an attempt to recall everything he had ever heard Sparrow say (most of it being apparent nonsense), just in case it yielded the merest scrap of information. The name of a tavern, a particular mooring-place…anything.

A female voice caught his attention. A female voice that he had heard before, that had a Deep South drawl to it. What was the girl's name? Alison? Marie? No; neither of those.

Anamaria. That was it. One of Sparrow's odd, mismatched crew. Norrington turned in the street, Johnson close behind, and walked towards the girl, who was standing in the street talking to some men who were, in all likelihood, pirates. "Excuse me."

Anamaria looked up. "Whatcha want?" she demanded fiercely. Then she frowned. "Hey, I know you. You're that high-up guy that tried to get Jack hung, intcha?"

"Do you know where I might find Sparrow?" Norrington did not want to waste time if it was at all possible.

"Whatcha want 'im for?"

"It's regarding William Turner. Where is Sparrow?"

"What about Will Turner?"

"That is between myself and Sparrow."

"You forgot the 'Captain', Commodore."

Norrington turned at the new voice – and came face-to-face with the very man he was searching for. "My apologies, Captain." He could not quite keep the sneer from his voice.

"So what can I do for a fine gentleman such as yourself?" Sparrow reached up with one ring-adorned hand and adjusted his three-cornered hat.

"It concerns William Turner and his late wife."

Sparrow blinked at him, tilting his head to one side. "Late? What 'appened to her?"

"She died. A year ago. Complications from childbirth."

"Oh. That is sad news." Sparrow held up his hands, a perplexed expression on his sun-darkened face. "I don't see how that affects my good self, though, Commodore. Savvy?"

"And there I was, thinking you might feel some twinge of loyalty," said Norrington scathingly.

Sparrow held up a finger. "You're forgettin' one thing, though, mate. Pirates ain't loyal. Leastways, not to non-pirates and those that are not part of their own crew. Young William is no pirate. Least, he ain't now. He chose to be a nice, respectable, ordinary blacksmith – although I personally would say he was rather above ordinary in regards to the quality of his fine swords – and settle down, get married, have a family. Like yeh do. Savvy?"

"I am not your 'mate', Sparrow."

"Captain Sparrow," muttered Jack irritably under his breath, in much the same manner he had done just before he had been due to hang in Port Royal, just loud enough for the Commodore to hear. He rolled his eyes, shaking his head.

Norrington chose to ignore this. "Turner is still grieving for Elizabeth. It's affecting his work – I am waiting for some swords but I rather doubt that I will have them in time – and he barely sees his child."

Jack shrugged elaborately, hands in the air, rocking back slightly on his heels. He gestured to himself. "I'm still not seein' where I come into this – and I ain't got all day. Things to do, people to see. Yeh get me? I'd say it would appear to be the same for you, but as you've already made it perfectly clear that I am the one that you're here to see, it would be safe to assume that fine men of the British Navy such as yehselves have nothin' else to do here in Tortuga. I, on the other hand, have got things to do."

"I don't wish to see Turner do anything rash or stupid."

Jack snorted disbelievingly. "The son of Bootstrap Bill could make a career out of doin' stupid things."

Norrington was getting impatient. "I fear that Turner may attempt to take his own life."

"That would be very sad," mused Jack. "Very sad indeed. But you, mate, 'ave not explained why you have come to me."

"He just may listen to you. You're our only hope, Captain Sparrow."

"But what's in it for me?" inquired Jack. "You get your swords, the kid gets 'is daddy back, but I set foot in Port Royal and I am a dead man. How do I benefit from this? I'm a pirate; we don't do somethin' if there's no profit in it for us. Savvy?"

Norrington was beginning to get heartily sick of that word. And now they had reached his least favourite part of the plan. "I can pay you. Quite handsomely, too."

"Pay me? You are going to pay me." Sparrow stared at him, gesturing at him with the rum bottle that was clasped firmly in his left hand, and then back at himself, to emphasise the stressed words. "But payin' me is not goin' to stop your little soldiers in their red tunics from shootin' me dead, now, is it?"

Norrington exchanged looks with Johnson. How did he know he was going to lose this battle? "What do you want, then?" he asked defeatedly.

"If I'm goin' to help young William, I've got to know your men in red ain't gonna kill me. Savvy?"

Norrington sighed. "Fine, fine. Whilst in Port Royal, you will be safe from arrest or apprehension by my soldiers – if you obey the law and do not steal, assault, pillage –"

"Yes yes yes, I get the idea," Sparrow interrupted impatiently with a wave of his rum bottle. "You do not need to give me every last detail. Alright, I'll come. It'll take a few days, though. Can't sail the Pearl all by me onesies. Crew'll be a bit annoyed, but it's for a good cause, so it's tough if they don't like it. I'm their captain."

"Oh, one other thing – it will be the first anniversary of Elizabeth's death in eight days."

"Right. Just remember – I'm doin' this for William. Not you."

"I would never have thought that you would do it for me."

"We have an accord, then?"

Norrington nodded.

Sparrow offered his hand and Norrington reluctantly took it, shaking it for as short a time as possible. Sparrow withdrew his hand. "I promise that I shall be there." He turned to the black girl. "Come, Anamaria, and let us track down the rest of my faithful crew."

Norrington watched them go, Sparrow with his trademark swaying amble born from lengthy spells at sea on ships – and a lot of rum. He turned to Johnson. "Let's go. He'll come."

---------------------------------------------------------------

TBC