Back from Spain, I continue with my tale. I thank these wonderful people- MudGuppy, Raphe1 (don't send Rayark after me!), ellennar (thanks for defending me!), Sheep, Jack E (don't worry, I love Norrington-baby and the plan behind the duel will be revealed soon!), nekohebi (I LOVE YOU! HOW WAS FRANCE?!), Araminta Ditch, Erisinia- for reviewing.
Disclaimer- I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean. However, Commodore Norirngton is currently locked in my closet and I have been enjoying teaching him about 21st century technology. Like showers. Ahem.
Read on!
"We are here today to settle a score. We have been rivals for the love of one woman…" here Norrington's eyes strayed to Elizabeth. "…for too long. It is time to resolve the matter as one man to another. I met with Mr Turner a week ago and challenged him to a duel for Miss Swann's hand in marriage."
The crowd, including Norrington's lieutenants, gasped collectively. The word 'duel' had shocked them. They had not expected violence- they had expected words and paper and ink but not steel and swordplay. Elizabeth was as tense as a cat before a pounce. Silently the blacksmith willed his love to remain calm and still- the plan could not be spoiled.
Norrington turned to Will to stare him in the eye. Will met his gaze and nodded imperceptibly. Only they two would know the truth of the matter. They would fight this duel in earnest, but not for the reasons Norrington had stated. This was a private matter between them- a settling of scores as well as the putting to rest of rumours. It had nothing to do with Elizabeth's marriage. Norrington had already made it clear that he would not stand between them and their love. This was something deeper, something that they both needed. Who was the better man?
Will held out his hand and Norrington shook it. Then they stepped apart to prepare for the fight ahead. Will removed his brown outer coat and rolled up his sleeve, mentally preparing himself for the duel. He might practice three hours a day, but Norrington relied on his blade skills to save his life in a heated fight whilst still giving orders and thinking about the safety of his men and his ship. Will's reflexes and strategies were excellent, he knew he was amongst the best, but so was Norrington. Their adventure with the undead pirates and his clash with Jack had opened Will's eyes to the harsh realities that Norrington faced on a regular basis on the high seas. This man was a battle-hardened sailor in His Majesty's service. But the fight should be a fine test for him and would give them both the satisfaction they needed.
He gripped the hilt of his sabre. It was sister to the high-quality blade that hung at Norrington's side. Suddenly remembering this fact, he glanced at his opponent. Norrington had already removed his dark blue uniform coat and hat and passed them to Gillette. He was also in the process of unbuttoning his brocaded waistcoat. Quickly and methodically all traces of the Naval finery were removed until Norrington stood in his shirt, breeches, wig, stockings and shoes. He hesitated for a moment, then pulled off the white wig, revealing dark brown hair gathered into a queue at the back of Norrington's neck. He handed it, along with his other belongings to Gillette and Groves and nodded his thanks. He took in their concerned faces and quirked a quick grin.
So this was the man behind the uniform. It seemed he was human, after all. Will studied his duelling partner carefully. With that uniform removed, Norrington looked like just another man- young, flawed and vulnerable. He suddenly realised why the Commodore was so stern and grave. The man was only thirty, a mere child in the eyes of others in the Navy- without his stony façade and strict discipline he would not have the respect he needed from his men to command them. Something of it struck a chord within him- Norrington was not much older than himself and hundreds of people depended on him. To have that responsibility, that pressure. To have to be two people- the Commodore and the man. Could he, Will, leave himself behind every morning and step into a different persona? He doubted it.
Will shook himself out of his thoughts. He needed to concentrate. Now, Norrington was just an opponent, a challenge, something to fight. He drew his sword at the same time as Norrington. The two men faced each other and bowed, as courtesy demanded. They both took their stances, swords held ready. Will decided to make the first move, testing his partner's reflexes with a swift lunge. Norrington deflected easily and followed through with a slashing motion. Their blades met again with a clash and so it began.
The duel was fast and furious. The two swords were whirling silver blurs, seeming to be extensions of the men's arms, neither giving the other any quarter. Every move made by either man was countered and returned at lightning speed. Will was impressed but not surprised. He sensed that Norrington was enjoying the chance to put his skills to the test with no thought for anything around him. Neither of them paid any attention to their slowly growing audience.
Will focused on quick, sharp attacks and keeping defence to a minimum, defending himself with as little force as possible. Norrington was a strong man and his tall lean frame was taut with muscle. If push came to shove, Will would need all of his strength to combat Norrington's natural advantage.
In a sudden movement, Norrington's sword breached Will's defences. Automatically, the blacksmith brought up his own sword to counter the move. Their blades locked, pulling the combatants together, each straining to gain the upper hand. Will's jaw tensed. This was the stalemate he had hoped to avoid. He couldn't afford to allow the duel to become a match of strength. He flicked his wrist and pulled, hoping to disentangle his blade and attack before Norrington noticed. It didn't work- the Naval man reflexively moved his own blade to keep them locked together. He glanced up to his opponent's face, scant inches from his own. He saw tempest-strewn eyes flicker to the blades and then a flash of green fire within them. The taller man made a swift powerful movement, a twist and a shove that disentangled the swords and sent Will staggering backwards.
Caught by surprise, the young blacksmith barely brought his sabre up in time to parry the Commodore's follow through backswing. Norrington made a split-second examination of Will's situation and in a single swift movement, sent Will's sword spinning across the floor towards the crowd. People cried out in fear and surprise, leaping out of the way. Will shivered involuntarily as the cold steel of Norrington's blade ghosted across the side of his throat. Around them, the crowd gasped, some in fear, some in anticipation of a bloodletting. Out of the corner of his eyes, Will could see Elizabeth throw her hands up over her mouth, her beautiful eyes full of shock and fear.
The Commodore's stare burned searchingly into Will's eyes. The blacksmith could feel the intensity of emotion shown in those normally inexpressive eyes. The blade at his throat quivered, just for a moment, then was pulled away. Norrington deliberately sheathed it and stepped back. He bowed again, then spoke so the spectators could hear him. "I see no purpose in our continued struggle, Mr Turner. I would not have your life, or your honour. May you and your lady be happy and at peace." Again, Norrington leaned forwards. "Our point has been made, Mr Turner. Look after her, I beg you."
With that, Norrington turned to he lieutenants and donned the rest of his uniform, pointedly ignoring the looks of the crowd. He settled his hat on his head and started to leave. Will, his limbs suddenly unfrozen, called after him. "Commodore Norrington!" The man turned back to look at him. "Thank you." No more was needed. The earnest tone of his voice was enough. He bowed and Norrington acknowledged the gesture by tipping his hat slightly. The Commodore and his friends and officers walked along the street in the direction of the fort.
Elizabeth ran towards Will as the crowd dispersed, her face full of worry. "Will, oh, are you alright?"
He nodded and pulled her into an embrace. "He wouldn't have hurt me."
"I know," she said pulling back to examine his sweat-beaded features. "But I am allowed to worry about my fiancé, am I not?"
This is NOT the end. There is one more chapter, beloved readers. Just one more. Thank you for reading.