Title: Swimming Above The Sharks

Disclaimer: I'm only borrowing these two characters. Technically, they're Disney's property…which sucks. But because they're sub-canon characters, Disney wont notice if I steal them for a while…Mwa ha ha ha…!

Summary: Mallot and Grapple discover themselves stranded, accidentally marooned, and with a hell of a lot of gold. That and Mallot intelligently points out they're not cursed any more.

Notes:  I always wanted natives to leap out and attack Jack and Elizabeth when they were marooned on the island, then Jack would do something comical and they're start worshipping him as their God or something. Obviously, that never happened. Well GUESS WHAT?! *points below to the story* There are a few references to Kennith Oppel's Firewing novel, such as the odd way to identify somebody who is alive and somebody who is dead.

Also, I'm only going to give replies every few chapters to those that reviewed. I apologize if you think I'm ignoring you. I'm not. I'm secretly worshiping you as my Divine Entity and sacrificing squirrels before a golden alter. Well…no, not really.

Chapter Eight: Elders, Rudagull, and Arguments

The sudden sensation of cold brought him back, and he gasped greedily for air, sucking in every breath he could, exhaling sharply and inhaling again. Mallot tried to sit up yet discovered he couldn't. Something was holding him down, and he was lying on his back. He opened his eyes and saw nothing but darkness. Had he gone blind? It was the only explanation…Trying not to panic, he struggled to sit up again, and found he lifted an inch, but something roughly pushed him back down.

"Lemme up," he wheezed, his throat sore and his mouth dry. There was no saliva and his tongue felt foreign in his mouth. He wanted water, salt water, warm water, anything, but he wanted a drink! Something clamped over his mouth and pinched his nose, and he became terrified he was being suffocated. He thrashed, or tried to, yet a brush of air by his ear and a voice whispering stilled him.


"Be quiet, sparkly-fur!" it hissed. Clearly trying to kill him was a way to tell him to calm down. It hadn't worked.

Other voices whispered and muttered, some barked out harsh commands in a freakish language, others remarked and seemed to try to talk to him, in English and other languages.

"…Mahadevi sent him…"

"…Welb sah ha rats…"

"…shines like the moon…"

"…n'es pas un mort…"

"…maybe a pretty stone…"

"…la manera los resplandores ligeros …"

"…the shine of him…"

Mallot's eyes began to see things again. The colour slowly leaked back into his vision yet was blotted at first. Soon, the splotches of mingled dye formed shapes and odd blurs. The blurs became clearer until he could make out the smudged form of humans. There were at least ten around him, maybe more, and they soon realized his eyes were working again. A few of the seemingly younger ones were scolded and they turned away and ran or strutted arrogantly off.

The smudges cleared, and he found himself looking at seven people, yet they were not what he would call normal. Five were very aged, with wrinkled, cracked skin that was tanned. Four of them had deformities, such as a crumpled and limp arm or a severely hunched back. The three younger ones looked even worse. They were either cut and scarred horribly, or looked as though they had just gotten away from a horribly agonizing death.

"…awake…"

"…Awake!…"

The voices grew clearer, closer.

"He's awake!" an aged man with a large gash on the side of his head where grey hair was missing exclaimed.

"Quiet, now!" one of the younger ones, a rather beautiful girl with long black hair flowing to her waist, yet a terrible scar going across her neck and right cheek, scolded severely.
Mallot looked up and met eyes with an aged, wrinkled, black woman who looked positively ancient looming over him. She never parted her lips to say something, and merely took her hands away from his face before hobbling terribly into the crowd around him.

Looking around, he found himself in a shelter of some sort. Sticks and mud composed most of it, yet it was large enough to accommodate everybody inside quite comfortably. Wincing, he tried to sit up, yet the aged lady hobbled back and shoved him with surprising strength back down.

"Yal!" she said, her voice holding an odd ringing in the back, and immediately everyone became silent. She looked over Mallot, removing his hat for a moment (he didn't even respond to the offence, she seemed so threatening, regardless of her age), nodding occasionally.

"Seh eliva," she proclaimed, and the murmuring started up again.

"Zira says he's alive!" proclaimed the old man who originally stated he was awake.
"Yes, Falstaff, we know," the pretty girl with the scarred throat said. In the murmurs of agreement, Mallot learned her name was Luna. She looked tribal, like from the Native savages from the Americas…

"I don't believe her!" an old lady near the back of the group shrieked, her wild white hair flying out in all directions, and her crumpled form causing her to loose balance. Her name was Jorrick. A few grumbles from the old folk who had not spoken agreed with Jorrick, from others like Alamo and Kanzuu, identical Spanish twins with burned fleshy faces.

A rather cheeky looking old man with a silly lopsided smile stepped forward and shook his head. He wore the remains of a large red coat, black breeches and boots. He looked friendly, yet almost as a dead pirate. Mallot looked at him and nearly threw up. A large section of his ribcage was showing through, encrusted with old, dried black blood and sick yellow and green scabs scattered over the edges of the wound.
"He's glowing! He has to be alive," he said with a Spanish accent.

"You lie, Rifktump!" Jorrick screamed at him.

"Evael! Luna, yats," Zira croaked out, and the rest of the people complied almost immediately. Jorrick gave Mallot a disgusted look; while Rifktump smiled friendly at him, showing black, rotted teeth, before pushing Jorrick out of the shelter.

"Don't worry, we're going to take care of you," Luna said soothingly. Mallot tried to turn his head to look at her directly but it was numb, and almost paralysed. Luna smiled comfortingly at him and knelt on the other side of him from Zira, who was still crouching on his left. Luna brushed her hand along his cheek and left arm, pursing her lips in thought. She was much younger then the others who had spoken about him as though he was not there.


"What…what were they talking about? I glow?" Jonathan said weakly, his voice raspy and throat dry from no water. He tried to form spit in his mouth to swallow; yet there was nothing.

"They think you're dead. Everybody who comes to this island is dead. Rudagull. You'll be dead to, soon enough. Just like that other man who came here…with the clawed weapon and chains around his shoulders."

"Grapple!" Mallot said, his voice scared and eyes wide.

~*~

~*~Logical Philosophy~*~ Good to hear from you! I appreciate your detailed reviews. Really, I do. You get a cookie. ; ) My sister is behind me, reading your review, and…she's arguing that Grapple is better looking…So…*kaff* I'll stand back and let you two debate over it! ; P *grabs popcorn and stands back* Of course, she's a huge fan of dead actors…ANYHOOT, Mallot is supposed to be the comic relief of the two, but he turns a little serious in the future chapters…But that's all the spoilers you're going to get!

Mallot: *leaps out and tackles* Whoot!