A Sparrow's Daughter
By Anlei
Chapter Two
The streets of Port Royale were filled with every day merchants and traders, shop owners and beggars, as it was every morning. Annabelle walked swiftly through the crowded streets, her mind occupied with Norrington. Norrington was a very proper man, a person who lived very well in his status as a gentleman. That, of course, meant the mindset came along with it. He was not accustomed to allowing women to go gallivanting off without supervision. Even if he did allow her to leave he'd demand that someone go with her. That someone would not be him. Despite the apparent problems with his wife, he was still a family man. He often spent months on the sea away from them when his job demanded it. When he was home, he liked to stay there.
She could try suggesting that she wished to spend some time visiting her cousin Frida in Spain. Although, Annabelle was sure that Norrington would arrange everything for her and even walk her to the port. He'd expect her to write to make sure she was doing well. He'd probably even want to contact Frida. Annabelle gave a most unladylike snort. She didn't want to risk having to actually stay with Frida. She could just imagine that one! While she had only lived with Frida while she was young she never really liked the woman. She'd go on for hours about how a young woman should act.
Well, that's exactly how I want to spend my days, listening to that woman talk about the difference between beige and off white lace! She thought to herself. No, now wasn't the time to think about her cousin. It was unlikely she'd ever see the woman again, anyways.
At least, she hoped not.
Annabelle was so occupied with her private musings that she failed to notice the body in front of her...until she collided with it. She bounced backwards from the rather ragged man she ran into and fell on her rear end on the ground.
"Are you alright, miss?" He held is hand out to her and helped her stand. "It would be better for you to look where you're walking, lass." He chastised gently.
She had the good graces to blush while wiping the dirt from her gown. "My apologies, sir, I was merely..." She trailed of as she looked at him. He looked so familiar, like someone she knew from her past. But she couldn't place his face. He was an older man, much older than Norrington, dressed in sailor garb with tuffs of gray hair peeking out from under his cap. Yet he didn't appear to be a respectable man of society. With a small smile she ignored this thought.
"Aye, there be no trouble, miss." He tipped his hat and walked away. She followed him with her eyes until he faded into the crowd.
Who was he?
It didn't matter now. He had already left. Turning, she continued on her way. A small sign hanging from a slightly tattered building caught her attention. Turner's Smithy. Grasping the handle she opened the door with a creak and walked inside. Almost instantly the temperature rose making the naturally warm weather of the Caribbean seem like a cool breeze. The smell of hot metal assaulted her senses and she wrinkled her nose in disgust. Annabelle would have liked to run outside and dive into the ocean to escape such heat.
She continued about the smithy looking for its owner. Bent over an anvil and working with a red hot piece of iron was a slender man, possibly in his late thirties. His shoulder length curly brown hair was tied back against the nape of his neck. He was quite handsome.
"Excuse me, sir?" She called, having to raise her voice slightly. He paused and looked up, smiling cordially.
"Good day to you miss." He called softly. She smiled in return.
"I'm here on behalf of Commodore Norrington. I believe he has a sword order with a William Turner?"
"Oh, yes of course. I am Will Turner. How is the commodore this morning? He is well I hope. He usually comes personally." He asked, removing himself from the stool he sat upon. He moved toward the back wall where the sword was waiting.
"He's merely preoccupied with his duties, which is why I am here in his place." She replied, taking another look around room. She noticed the swords lining the back wall were indeed finely made. She found herself moving toward them. One in particular had caught her eye. It was a simple blade attached to a black and gold hilt, typical of its style. There was nothing particularly special about this blade above the others with it. Yet its simplicity stood out.
Annabelle wanted to take the sword off the wall and test its feel in her hands. She caught herself as her hand reached for it. What would I do with a sword, even one as nice as this one? She thought sadly. It shouldn't have made her upset as much as it did. But she really wanted that sword.
"I promise you, Annie, that when you're just a bit older you'll have one of your own." A voice rang in the back of her mind. A voice belonging to her mother.
"My oldest son made that one. He modeled it after a blade belonging to a friend of mine." Startled and slightly embarrassed, Annabelle spun around quickly. His eyes were proudly on the back wall.
"You're son is very talented, sir." She commented quietly.
"He is. He enjoys making them. All of these you see here are ones he created." Annabelle turned around and looked again.
"They're beautiful." Each blade glittered with the glare of the fire burning in the opposite side of the room.
"I have the commodore's order for you, my lady." Annabelle nodded, finally prying her eyes away.
"Thank you. Here is the payment." She replied as they exchanged the money for the sword. She tried not to fidget as he'd begun stared quite openly at her. There was a mixture of confusion and curiosity written on his face.
It had been years since Will Turner had any run-ins with a pirate of any kind. Yet the girl before him reminded him so much of someone he once knew that it was startling. She had the same dark eyes, traces of the same smile, almost the same sun kissed skin but slightly darker. He could almost see the pirate in her face.
"Have you been with the commodore for long?" He asked.
"For a few years." She replied. When he noticed her discomfort he smiled and took a step back.
"My apologies if I seem a bit forward, miss. You remind me of someone I once knew."
Before she could ask anything, a tiny blur of a child burst through the doors and launched himself at the legs of a rather unbalanced Will.
"Daddy!" cried a little boy, no more than four years at least.
He'd nearly knocked Will off his feet but fortunately he caught himself before his body met the floor. Will bent down and swung the boy into his waiting arms. At that moment, a very pretty and very pregnant young woman walked in at a much more graceful pace. Forgetting Annabelle for the moment, Will took in the sight of his wife and smiled brilliantly. He kissed her temple sweetly before chastising her for putting her body through so much physical labor. She rolled her eyes, irritated.
"Darling, I promise you that some fresh air will not hurt me. I have done this before you know." She smiled teasingly.
"I know, my love, but it doesn't make me any less worried about you. The doctor says you should be mostly resting." She ignored him and turned her honey brown eyes to Annabelle standing forgotten in the background.
Following her gaze Will turned to introduce them.
"Forgive my oversight, this is my wife Elizabeth and my son Michael. And you are miss...?" Annabelle smiled shyly.
"Annabelle, it is my pleasure to meet you," She gave a short bow before saying, "but I am afraid I must return. I thank you for the sword, I'm sure the commodore will be most pleased." They each said their farewells before parting.
Annabelle released a sigh of relief to be outside of the smithy. She couldn't imagine spending all day inside that sweltering, dusty room, dealing with molten metal. She smiled thinking of how happy Will and Elizabeth seemed and couldn't help but feel pity Norrington and the relationship he had with his wife. He was a good man, one she didn't believe deserved half the stress he was put under. She only hoped for his sake that things would get better for them.
She thought back to the man named William Turner as she walked back. She could see why Elizabeth had married him instead of the commodore. While it was not widely spoken, the story of the commodore's rejection from Elizabeth was no secret among the servants of his household. William was a handsome, soft spoken, and gentle man. His adoration for his wife could be seen every time he looked at her. In fact, it seemed that it would be hard for him to hide any of his thoughts from anyone. They way he looked at her earlier attested to that. He looked at her as if he recognized her.
But how could he? Annabelle had never met William before. Moving onto other thoughts, Annabelle pushed Will Turner out of her mind. It never occurred to her that perhaps he saw a resemblance in her that she could not.
AN: I've been spitting these chapters out pretty fast so I apologize if there are any careless errors here or there. I'll try to keep updating quickly and hopefully I'll get some more chapters within the next week! ~Anlei~
By Anlei
Chapter Two
The streets of Port Royale were filled with every day merchants and traders, shop owners and beggars, as it was every morning. Annabelle walked swiftly through the crowded streets, her mind occupied with Norrington. Norrington was a very proper man, a person who lived very well in his status as a gentleman. That, of course, meant the mindset came along with it. He was not accustomed to allowing women to go gallivanting off without supervision. Even if he did allow her to leave he'd demand that someone go with her. That someone would not be him. Despite the apparent problems with his wife, he was still a family man. He often spent months on the sea away from them when his job demanded it. When he was home, he liked to stay there.
She could try suggesting that she wished to spend some time visiting her cousin Frida in Spain. Although, Annabelle was sure that Norrington would arrange everything for her and even walk her to the port. He'd expect her to write to make sure she was doing well. He'd probably even want to contact Frida. Annabelle gave a most unladylike snort. She didn't want to risk having to actually stay with Frida. She could just imagine that one! While she had only lived with Frida while she was young she never really liked the woman. She'd go on for hours about how a young woman should act.
Well, that's exactly how I want to spend my days, listening to that woman talk about the difference between beige and off white lace! She thought to herself. No, now wasn't the time to think about her cousin. It was unlikely she'd ever see the woman again, anyways.
At least, she hoped not.
Annabelle was so occupied with her private musings that she failed to notice the body in front of her...until she collided with it. She bounced backwards from the rather ragged man she ran into and fell on her rear end on the ground.
"Are you alright, miss?" He held is hand out to her and helped her stand. "It would be better for you to look where you're walking, lass." He chastised gently.
She had the good graces to blush while wiping the dirt from her gown. "My apologies, sir, I was merely..." She trailed of as she looked at him. He looked so familiar, like someone she knew from her past. But she couldn't place his face. He was an older man, much older than Norrington, dressed in sailor garb with tuffs of gray hair peeking out from under his cap. Yet he didn't appear to be a respectable man of society. With a small smile she ignored this thought.
"Aye, there be no trouble, miss." He tipped his hat and walked away. She followed him with her eyes until he faded into the crowd.
Who was he?
It didn't matter now. He had already left. Turning, she continued on her way. A small sign hanging from a slightly tattered building caught her attention. Turner's Smithy. Grasping the handle she opened the door with a creak and walked inside. Almost instantly the temperature rose making the naturally warm weather of the Caribbean seem like a cool breeze. The smell of hot metal assaulted her senses and she wrinkled her nose in disgust. Annabelle would have liked to run outside and dive into the ocean to escape such heat.
She continued about the smithy looking for its owner. Bent over an anvil and working with a red hot piece of iron was a slender man, possibly in his late thirties. His shoulder length curly brown hair was tied back against the nape of his neck. He was quite handsome.
"Excuse me, sir?" She called, having to raise her voice slightly. He paused and looked up, smiling cordially.
"Good day to you miss." He called softly. She smiled in return.
"I'm here on behalf of Commodore Norrington. I believe he has a sword order with a William Turner?"
"Oh, yes of course. I am Will Turner. How is the commodore this morning? He is well I hope. He usually comes personally." He asked, removing himself from the stool he sat upon. He moved toward the back wall where the sword was waiting.
"He's merely preoccupied with his duties, which is why I am here in his place." She replied, taking another look around room. She noticed the swords lining the back wall were indeed finely made. She found herself moving toward them. One in particular had caught her eye. It was a simple blade attached to a black and gold hilt, typical of its style. There was nothing particularly special about this blade above the others with it. Yet its simplicity stood out.
Annabelle wanted to take the sword off the wall and test its feel in her hands. She caught herself as her hand reached for it. What would I do with a sword, even one as nice as this one? She thought sadly. It shouldn't have made her upset as much as it did. But she really wanted that sword.
"I promise you, Annie, that when you're just a bit older you'll have one of your own." A voice rang in the back of her mind. A voice belonging to her mother.
"My oldest son made that one. He modeled it after a blade belonging to a friend of mine." Startled and slightly embarrassed, Annabelle spun around quickly. His eyes were proudly on the back wall.
"You're son is very talented, sir." She commented quietly.
"He is. He enjoys making them. All of these you see here are ones he created." Annabelle turned around and looked again.
"They're beautiful." Each blade glittered with the glare of the fire burning in the opposite side of the room.
"I have the commodore's order for you, my lady." Annabelle nodded, finally prying her eyes away.
"Thank you. Here is the payment." She replied as they exchanged the money for the sword. She tried not to fidget as he'd begun stared quite openly at her. There was a mixture of confusion and curiosity written on his face.
It had been years since Will Turner had any run-ins with a pirate of any kind. Yet the girl before him reminded him so much of someone he once knew that it was startling. She had the same dark eyes, traces of the same smile, almost the same sun kissed skin but slightly darker. He could almost see the pirate in her face.
"Have you been with the commodore for long?" He asked.
"For a few years." She replied. When he noticed her discomfort he smiled and took a step back.
"My apologies if I seem a bit forward, miss. You remind me of someone I once knew."
Before she could ask anything, a tiny blur of a child burst through the doors and launched himself at the legs of a rather unbalanced Will.
"Daddy!" cried a little boy, no more than four years at least.
He'd nearly knocked Will off his feet but fortunately he caught himself before his body met the floor. Will bent down and swung the boy into his waiting arms. At that moment, a very pretty and very pregnant young woman walked in at a much more graceful pace. Forgetting Annabelle for the moment, Will took in the sight of his wife and smiled brilliantly. He kissed her temple sweetly before chastising her for putting her body through so much physical labor. She rolled her eyes, irritated.
"Darling, I promise you that some fresh air will not hurt me. I have done this before you know." She smiled teasingly.
"I know, my love, but it doesn't make me any less worried about you. The doctor says you should be mostly resting." She ignored him and turned her honey brown eyes to Annabelle standing forgotten in the background.
Following her gaze Will turned to introduce them.
"Forgive my oversight, this is my wife Elizabeth and my son Michael. And you are miss...?" Annabelle smiled shyly.
"Annabelle, it is my pleasure to meet you," She gave a short bow before saying, "but I am afraid I must return. I thank you for the sword, I'm sure the commodore will be most pleased." They each said their farewells before parting.
Annabelle released a sigh of relief to be outside of the smithy. She couldn't imagine spending all day inside that sweltering, dusty room, dealing with molten metal. She smiled thinking of how happy Will and Elizabeth seemed and couldn't help but feel pity Norrington and the relationship he had with his wife. He was a good man, one she didn't believe deserved half the stress he was put under. She only hoped for his sake that things would get better for them.
She thought back to the man named William Turner as she walked back. She could see why Elizabeth had married him instead of the commodore. While it was not widely spoken, the story of the commodore's rejection from Elizabeth was no secret among the servants of his household. William was a handsome, soft spoken, and gentle man. His adoration for his wife could be seen every time he looked at her. In fact, it seemed that it would be hard for him to hide any of his thoughts from anyone. They way he looked at her earlier attested to that. He looked at her as if he recognized her.
But how could he? Annabelle had never met William before. Moving onto other thoughts, Annabelle pushed Will Turner out of her mind. It never occurred to her that perhaps he saw a resemblance in her that she could not.
AN: I've been spitting these chapters out pretty fast so I apologize if there are any careless errors here or there. I'll try to keep updating quickly and hopefully I'll get some more chapters within the next week! ~Anlei~