Title: Whither By Moonlight
Author: Squeezynz
Chapter: Eight - Something old, something renewed.
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Authors Note: Apologies for the delay between chapters. Been caught up in the day to day mundane and it's getting harder to find time to write. I'm determined to correct the situation, but for the time being, mundane and real life have the upper hand. Hopefully, the balance will be redressed and my muse will come out of hiding. In the meantime, thank you again to all that review, especially my more enthusiastic fans, you are treasures and I love every one of you.....hugs
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The tunnels apparently ran forever. It had been hours since Wendy had regained her senses from her swoon in the stifling hut. When she had opened her eyes it was to find herself slung over the shoulder of a man, her head hanging down his back. She had immediately started to struggle, the man crying out as she landed a knee in his chest, her fists pummelling and pinching his back. With an oath, she found herself dumped on the dusty floor, her head connecting with the rock to leave her dazed for a minute. In that time voices were shouting back down the passageway and she saw flickering lights approaching where she sat.
Her kidnapper had his boot raised to administer a kick when one of the men held up his hand imperiously and the boot dropped to the floor.
"She's a She-Devil...she fought like a tiger.....look what she did!" Her captor complained, gesturing to Wendy on the floor.
Wendy sat with her head bowed, gathering her wits as she tried to listen above the pounding of her heart.
"She's a mere wench....more like a kitten than a tiger....stop ya whining and take this torch."
The voice was rough and unrecognizable. The man himself was only a darker shadow in the stone corridor, his face hidden from her as she squinted upwards.
"Who are you? What do you want with me?"
"Ah well...that would be giving the game away too soon, my beauty. I can think of a hundred reasons why a man would steal you away, but for now the less you know the better. Now get on your feet and lets move."
Slowly, Wendy got to her feet and stood, one hand braced against the wall of the tunnel as she faced her kidnappers.
"No....."
The three men had been about to turn and continue their trek, but at her firm refusal they paused, the pitch soaked torches throwing out strange shapes on the floor and rocky walls.
"Would you rather be carried the rest of the way over Harry's shoulder, I would think it a rather uncomfortable way to travel."
"I don't want to go with you at all.......I-I-want to go home."
Low pitched chuckles greeted her childish request, Wendy's eyes pricking with tears at her own foolishness.
"I think not.....now I believe we've wasted enough time, Miss Darling, you have your choice....over Harry's shoulder or on your own feet....quickly now, I'm an impatient man."
Tilting her chin, Wendy clamped her lips together and turned her shoulder to the men, her hands balled into fists as she marched past them.
"Right lads, looks like we're one our way again.....lets pick up the pace, I want to be home, before my stomach cleaves to my spine."
The strange party continued their tramp down the pitch black tunnel, the flickering light from the torches barely able to pierce the stygian gloom. Wendy often stumbled over the rough ground, a hand ever ready to steady her, her quick glances at her shadowy companion not adding anything to her knowledge of him. All she could make out was his dress and hair, both of them the same unrelieved black of a moonless night, only the occasional glint of metal to betray the presence of a brace of pistols across his chest and a sword at his side. He seemed dressed the same as the pirates with him, but various clues led Wendy to believe he was anything but one of the common crew. His person was clean, unlike the man Harry, who reeked of fish and sweat. He also spoke with a faint accent, although roughened, as if he'd been too close to a bonfire and inhaled the smoke. His hand, when he held her elbow to steady her, was as strong as steel but his nails were clipped and cared for, not jagged like the other man walking ahead of them. In all he was a mystery and Wendy pondered the riddle as they continued their trek into the depths of goodness knew where. Soon the lack of water and food started to once more sap her strength, her next stumble almost sending her into the embrace of the man at her side as she half-fainted with fatigue.
In a swift move the man swept Wendy into his arms, cradling her against his chest before resuming their journey through the tunnel.
"Not long now, my beauty, we'll see you taken care off properly, don't want Peter to accuse me of damaging his property, now do we?"
Too absorbed in the pain of her feet and head, Wendy could only murmur a reply, her eyes sliding shut as she gave in to her growing weakness.
When next she awoke it was to find herself lying on a mattress in a small cave-like room, a tiny niche holding a spluttering candle that poorly illuminated her surroundings, a door the only item to relieve the rocky walls.
A rough blanket had been thrown over her, but despite that she shivered with cold, the candle only throwing out an illusion of warmth against the chill of the hard stone. Clutching her scratchy shawl around her shoulders, Wendy struggled to her feet, her tongue feeling thick and swollen in her mouth. Near the door, on the floor, someone had placed a jug on a tray, beside it a plate with something on it. Desperate for something to drink, Wendy staggered to the door and fell to her knees, shaking hands clasping the jug and lifting it to her lips. The water was cool and faintly brackish, but to the drinker it was the finest sweet wine, slipping past her lips and down her throat in an unceasing flow.
"Oh God....thank God..."
"Don't be thanking him too soon miss....the God's can be fickle in this place."
Wendy started, the voice coming from above her, the jug almost slipping from her suddenly nerveless fingers.
"Who said that? Where are you?"
"Oh don't bother your pretty eyes to try and find me, you can't, I'm not here."
Thoroughly unnerved, Wendy stared about the small chamber, the candlelight showing her nothing but the rude pallet on the floor and the closed door. Swallowing, she placed the jug back on the tray and shuffled around so that her back pressed up against the wall.
"Why can't I see you? Am I going mad?"
The disembodied voice chuckled to itself before speaking again.
"No m'dear, not mad...although I could be forgiven for thinking that I was mad m'self...."
Scraping her hair back behind her ear, Wendy reached up to rub her eyes, as if checking to make sure they were open. When she lowered her hand, she saw something flickering uncertainly, an outline that wavered and shimmied but became more solid the longer she looked. After a long minute she could make out a man's shape, the rock wall clearly visible through him still, but his form becoming more solid as the minutes passed.
"You're....a ghost?"
"Now don't start screaming or nothing, don't want those rapscallions finding me here."
Wendy found herself more bemused than scared, the man's face appearing from the gloom to reveal itself as someone in their middle years, the eyes dark but not frightening, more sad than anything else.
"But....you're a ghost, how could they hurt you?"
"As I said before, the God's are mighty fickle with a body....one minute you're a spirit, the next you're a frog in a pond. I prefer this form to the other, if you don't mind."
Thinking that she must be hullucinating from lack of food, Wendy could only nod in agreement, her fingers clutching her blanket more firmly about her shoulders. The ghost had now finished his transformation and stood before her, still very see-through, but with more substance about his face and hands.
"Who are...er...were you?"
"George Treading, late of the HMS Circe, first lieutenant for one Captain Gardener, and you are?"
"Oh.....Wendy....Wendy Darling...well, I suppose more properly I should call myself Wendy Pan..."
"You don't know your true name?"
"No, you see.....I only recently came back to Neverland, and nothings been formalised, but its accepted, I guess, that Peter and I....." Wendy felt herself blush as George canted his head to one side and gave her a considering look.
"And where is this Peter you speak about?"
"I don't know.....he went off to find someone called Skinner, I think....he left me with the Indian's and some men came and kidnapped me...I don't know how long ago, and there was a little girl with me, and I don't know if she's alive or dead.....and I don't know where I am, or who attacked me.....or....or...." Flailing her hands helplessly, Wendy burst into noisy sobs, overcome with her situation. George looked on impassively, his arms crossed over his chest while he waited for her to get herself under control. Using her blanket, Wendy wiped her eyes and sniffed, feeling a little better for crying out her fears. "I'm sorry, I'm not usually so emotional....its just....its just..."
"Been a rough day, miss.....nothing wrong with saying it."
Wendy raised a wan smile, "Yes, it has been a rough night and day. I have no idea how long I've been kidnapped for, it was night when Fly and I sat on the knoll. I awoke the first time in sunlight, but I don't know what time of the day it was.....then I must have fainted, the next time I awoke we were in some sort of tunnel and it was dark again, but I don't know if it was day or night....do you?"
"No....sorry....haven't been to the surface in more years than I care to count....not even sure exactly where I am, to tell the truth."
"Oh....I thought.....if you're a ghost...then surely you're in the place where you died?"
"No..no..if that was the case, I'd be walking around the bottom of the ocean. The ship was lost, foundered off the coast of some island in the middle of nowhere. I was drowned before I could reach the beach, couldn't swim ya see."
"How dreadful for you.....but I suppose the island could have been Neverland, but why are you here, in these caves?"
"That I don't know...after I...er...died, I don't remember what happened, only that one day I was here....a ghost, left to haunt a pirate hideout in the middle of a mountain. Daft, if you ask me."
"Do you appear to the pirates?"
"No...waste of time, they'd just yell and swipe at me with their swords. Its' more interesting to stay out of sight and listen."
A mischievous grin suddenly appeared on George's face and Wendy felt her own lips twitch in reply. When she'd first seen the ghosts face, she had supposed him to be in his middle years, possibly older, but when he smiled he seemed younger, almost boyish.
"How old were you when you..died?"
"Not old at all, about twenty-five. It was my first posting on a ship of the line."
"So young..." Wendy whispered, grieving silently for the lost life.
"I guess I was lucky....I didn't leave a wife and family behind, only my old dad....and now I'm here, although why is anyone's guess."
"How long have you been here, in these caves?"
"Not very long, but it's hard to judge. Sometimes I think it's only been days, but then I look at the faces of the men here and realize that they have aged, so it must be years."
"I think that is so sad....."
Suddenly George moved, leaving his spot beside the wall to walk towards Wendy, his feet moving but not touching the dirt floor. As he approached Wendy couldn't help her natural reactions and shrank back against the rock behind her.
Seeing her reaction, George stopped and held out his hand. To Wendy it looked almost solid, her eyes darting from his hand to his face, the smile back on his lips as he waited for her to calm again.
Drawing in a breath, Wendy tentatively extended her hand until her fingers were only an inch away from the ghost's. Her eyes were enormous in her pale face and her fingers trembled slightly. Still smiling, George bridged the small gap and his hand closed around hers. To her surprise she could feel his fingers, the palm of his hand. It felt cold and strange, but she could really feel him. George appeared just as surprised, his eyes dropping to their hands, his fingers curled around her small hand, his flesh becoming less corporeal the longer he held her.
"I can feel your hand.....is this supposed to happen?" Wendy asked, her own starting to tremble again.
"I don't know.....I've never tried to touch anyone before....at least, not try and really touch them. I didn't know I could."
It was very odd to Wendy. She could feel his hand holding hers, no longer cold but just warm and very solid, but if she raised her eyes, she could see through his body to the candle still flickering on the opposite wall. Suddenly nervous, Wendy pulled back and George let go of her, his hand reverting to its ghostly transparency as soon as he no longer touched her.
"That was interesting......" George held up his hand and stared at it, as if willing it to be solid again. Wendy tucked hers into her blanket, a little unnerved by the whole experience.
George backed away from where Wendy sat, his eyes still contemplating his hand, until he hit the wall. Instead of stopping, in front of Wendy's incredulous eyes, George entered the wall and started to go through it until only his face, hand and one foot were still visible.
Wendy's gasp drew his attention and he looked over at her, seeing her round eyes and open mouth. Looking down at himself he saw the reason and quickly stepped back into the room, grinning sheepishly.
"Sorry, I forget sometimes....walls don't exist for me anymore."
Feeling thirsty again, Wendy lifted the earthenware jug and took another mouthful, the cool liquid sliding down her throat and filling her stomach. Putting the jug down she looked at the other contents of the tray, a plain heel of brown bread on a metal plate. Picking it up, she nibbled at the crust, her appetite returning almost painfully so that she had to restrain herself from stuffing the whole piece in her mouth and probably choking herself. George just watched, his arms once more folded over his chest as he waited for her to finish her Spartan meal.
With her final swallow, George cleared his throat, drawing her eyes to him.
"Would I be right in thinkin' you'll be wanting to get out of this place?"
"Wouldn't you?"
He laughed as her acerbic tone, his ghostly figure shaking with mirth.
"I see your point. I may have to leave you for a little bit, but don't despair, I'm just going to make a reconnoitre."
"Are you truly going to help me?"
"As far as my somewhat limited powers will allow.....don't go anywhere now!"
With a wag of his transparent finger, former first-lietenent of HMS Circe passed through the rock wall and out of Wendy's sight. Bemused she stared at the spot for a long minute before shaking her head and turning her attention to the stout door that blocked the entrance. The candle was starting to gutter behind her as she thumped her fist on the wood, the sound hollow and depressing. There was no door handle on her side and when she pushed the door is only gave a little before standing firm. Frustrated, Wendy kicked the door with her bare foot before returning to sit beside the tray, her blanket still firmly wrapped around her shoulders.
Her eyes were drawn inevitably to the small candle bravely shedding its light around her room. It was nearly burnt to the base, only another hour of life in it. She tried not to think what would happen when it finally went out.
"Peter where are you?.....why haven't you come to take me home?...." Staring at the candle, she whispered her words into the chill air of the room, a lump in her throat making her swallow hard. After a moment or two, she buried her head against her arms, her knees drawn up as she huddled against the wall.
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Peter flew low over the forest, looking for the tree that was the center of the fairy world. He frowned in annoyance when he couldn't spot the ancient oak right away. Circling over where he knew it should be, he flew down and landed between the towering trees, the tall ferns crowding close as if to capture him. Briefly he remembered the evening he'd brought Wendy to the glade, how eager he'd been to show her the fairy's and how sweetly she'd smiled her thanks as they gazed down into the hollow tree. Now he gazed around that self-same glade and couldn't see the tree anywhere. Pushing his way through the bracken he rounded a wide trunk and gasped. Where the tree had been there was only a tagged stump, its shards of wood pointing to the sky in mute protest, the white heartwood very bright against the dark of the forest greenery. Where once the tree had climbed to the sky, now only a severed, torn stump remained, sticking a foot above the tallest fern, the rest of the tree completely missing. Stepping forward slowly, Peter stared in shock at the carnage wrought on the fairy tree, his eyes raking the ground for evidence of what, or who had caused the catastrophe. As he approached he saw that the ground was scuffed with many booted footprints, the plants crushed and ripped from the ground, close to the tree's base. Here and there were flattened branches, ripped from the main trunk, some with cleanly cut ends where a sword or axe had cut them from the tree. In the center of the wreckage stood all that remained of the once magnificent tree, the splintered fingers of wood pointing jaggedly upwards, the hollow center a black hole leading down to the roots. He found the remains of the knothole that he and Wendy had watched the fairies through, it was scratched and cut, as if someone had tried to hack their way in through the opening. Inside all was dark, no sign that the tree had ever been ablaze with golden fairy light, its roots strung with fireflies and glow-worms, giving the appearance of a golden treasure chest. Now it was just a dark hole, chips of wood and sawdust on the dirt floor that had been the fairy's dance floor.
"Who has done this awful thing? Who?"
Not expecting an answer, Peter started in surprise when a voice sounded close to his ear, his head snapping around to find a small swarm of bright lights hovering just above the heads of the ferns behind him.
One of the lights detached from the others and flew close to Peter's face. The fairy was very small, only a juvenile, but Peter noticed that all the fairies hovering were not much bigger, all of them very young.
The tiny fairy hovered, her wings beating rapidly, just beyond Peter's's nose, her head on one side, as if measuring his worth. Peter held his breath, his heart beating slowly as he waited for the tiny creature to speak. His patience was rewarded when a tinkle of bells sounded when the creature opened its mouth.
"Who are you that comes to gloat over our ruined home?"
"I don't come to gloat-I am Peter Pan."
The small floating cloud of fairies instantly burst into a noisy chatter, the one in front of Peter registering surprise on her tiny face.
"We have heard of you....but this is the first time we've seen the one called Peter Pan....where have you been all this time?"
For a moment Peter was nonplussed. He hadn't realized that he'd been out of touch with the fairies so long. These were newly hatched, admittedly, but to have become such a stranger to his friends that they thought he had been hiding, it was a blow to Peter.
"I haven't been anywhere....I've just been....busy for awhile. How is the Queen?"
The tiny fairies exchanged a glance between each other and Peter's heart lurched, was he too late?
"The Queen is better.....she was unwell for a long time, and these latest attacks on our people has made her sick. But we have a new home, and for now we are safe."
"Can you take me to the Queen? I would very much like to see her again."
At his request the fairies fluttered about his head, only the smallest remaining in front of his face.
"You cannot see the Queen.....we do not know you.......how do we know you are the Pan, and not another pirate come to harm us?"
"Did pirates do this?" Peter waved his arm to indicate the blasted remains of the old oak.
"Yes they did........it was before our time, but we have heard the story. It was a dark time for our Queen. She barely escaped with her life, and most of the swarm were decimated or captured."
"Please....I must see the Queen. Can you take a message to her?"
The tiny creature nodded, her friends gathered behind her in a tight, wary flock of bright lights and gossamer wings.
"We will do that-you are not like the others, they shouted the words and made our swarm fall and die, you haven't said the words."
In dawning horror Peter's stared open mouthed at the fairies. "The words?"
"The men that came before, they shouted the words that all fairies fear and one by one our people started to fall, after a few minutes half had died, it was a terrible sight, so we've been told. The Queen gathered those that remained and flew with them as fast and as far as she could, out of the hearing of those bad men and their killing words."
"I didn't know...." Peter whispered, heartsick that he'd been so ignorant of events in his own world.
"We have been taught that one day a champion would appear to set right the wrongs done to our kind.....are you that champion?"
Swallowing hard, Peter raised his eyes to the tiny lights that watched him warily. "I will be your champion...I will find the men that did this and kill them!"
At his fierce avowal the fairies twittered and fluttered around him, showering him with their dust until he glowed with gilded frosting.
"We will go now and tell the Queen what we have seen and heard. We will ask her is she will see you. Be here when the sun sets and you will have your answer."
Not waiting for Peter to respond, the tiny sparks of light shot up into the air and flew rapidly away, their trails dropping to the earth like golden rain. Peter watched them go with a faint feeling of hope.
Turning away, he walked back along the trail leading away from the blasted tree, his footsteps heavy as he contemplated all that he'd found out in the short time since he'd returned to the Indian village to find Wendy gone.
Needing somewhere to sit and think, he rose into the air and wove between the tree trunks until he reached his old tree, now too small and derelict to be used as a home. He tugged on the vine that opened the door, the bark lifting reluctantly to reveal its secret passage. Peering into the dark Peter sniffed, smelling the scent of decay and disuse. Letting the bark doorway drop back into place, he sat down cross legged on the mossy ground and leant his head back against his old hideout.
So much had happened in the few short hours since he and Wendy had swum in the rock gorge. So much had been revealed to him that he felt dizzy from all the thoughts and feelings raging through him.
Topmost was his fear that Hook or his henchmen were hurting his Wendy. He would never have left her if he'd known the extent of the changes that had been wrought in his world without him noticing. He tried to think back but the last few years had been so overwhelming with his new found body and burgeoning emotions that he couldn't remember anything happening out of the ordinary. He certainly would have remembered if anyone had told him that Hook was back, alive and apparently still plotting Peter's downfall, but no-one had even mentioned Hook's name, let alone his whereabouts. Peter tried to think back to his times spent with the former pirates of the Jolly Roger. Not once could he recall Smee mentioning his old Captain, nor could he recall the last time he'd spoken to the Fairy Queen. Why had no one told him what was happening? Were they all afraid of him? Or maybe more afraid of Hook? Now, into this state of chaos, he'd brought Wendy, exposing her to terrible danger at the hands of Peter's worst enemy. Peter ground his teeth again at the thought of Wendy in Hook's power, his hands clenching around the hilt of his dagger as if to plunge it into his enemy's black heart. And why had no-one told him about the fairy tree? That was the hardest to bear. He had loved Tinkerbell and she him, it had been a terrible blow when she'd died, his heart and mind missing her whenever he visited any of his old haunts, her tinkling laugh and mischievous pranks remembered with great affection and grief at her loss. It was after her death that he started to shy away from the fairies and their business, but surely the Mermaid's would have known what was happening, they should have told him what had been going on.
But now he knew, and Neverland was paying the price for his neglect. Hook had returned from the dead and was wreaking havoc in Peter's world once more, destroying and stealing worse than he'd ever done before the arrival of the Darling children. It was up to Peter to set things right again, it was his task, and his alone to rid Neverland of Hook and his accomplices once and for all. He knew from the Indian's that what few sighting of Hook they had made, had all been within the vicinity of the old smoke cabin, down below the bluff. He would start there and track the villain to his lair. There he would be sure to find Wendy, and his duty to protect Neverland from the likes of Hook would be fulfilled.
Satisfied that his course was clear, Peter rose to his feet and flew into the air. The sun was starting to sink below the tree tops and if the Queen was to grant him an audience he would have to return to the tree and wait until sunset. Hopefully what he learned from her would cement what he'd already found out from the Mermaids and the Indians, then armed he would set out to rescue Wendy and revenge the wrongs committed against Neverland and it's protector, Peter Pan.
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I can see the threads weaving together, nearly time for another actor to enter stage-left, doncha think? Will try to hurry up with the next chapter, in the meantime.......have atcha puling spawn!! grin
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Authors Note: Apologies for the delay between chapters. Been caught up in the day to day mundane and it's getting harder to find time to write. I'm determined to correct the situation, but for the time being, mundane and real life have the upper hand. Hopefully, the balance will be redressed and my muse will come out of hiding. In the meantime, thank you again to all that review, especially my more enthusiastic fans, you are treasures and I love every one of you.....hugs
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The tunnels apparently ran forever. It had been hours since Wendy had regained her senses from her swoon in the stifling hut. When she had opened her eyes it was to find herself slung over the shoulder of a man, her head hanging down his back. She had immediately started to struggle, the man crying out as she landed a knee in his chest, her fists pummelling and pinching his back. With an oath, she found herself dumped on the dusty floor, her head connecting with the rock to leave her dazed for a minute. In that time voices were shouting back down the passageway and she saw flickering lights approaching where she sat.
Her kidnapper had his boot raised to administer a kick when one of the men held up his hand imperiously and the boot dropped to the floor.
"She's a She-Devil...she fought like a tiger.....look what she did!" Her captor complained, gesturing to Wendy on the floor.
Wendy sat with her head bowed, gathering her wits as she tried to listen above the pounding of her heart.
"She's a mere wench....more like a kitten than a tiger....stop ya whining and take this torch."
The voice was rough and unrecognizable. The man himself was only a darker shadow in the stone corridor, his face hidden from her as she squinted upwards.
"Who are you? What do you want with me?"
"Ah well...that would be giving the game away too soon, my beauty. I can think of a hundred reasons why a man would steal you away, but for now the less you know the better. Now get on your feet and lets move."
Slowly, Wendy got to her feet and stood, one hand braced against the wall of the tunnel as she faced her kidnappers.
"No....."
The three men had been about to turn and continue their trek, but at her firm refusal they paused, the pitch soaked torches throwing out strange shapes on the floor and rocky walls.
"Would you rather be carried the rest of the way over Harry's shoulder, I would think it a rather uncomfortable way to travel."
"I don't want to go with you at all.......I-I-want to go home."
Low pitched chuckles greeted her childish request, Wendy's eyes pricking with tears at her own foolishness.
"I think not.....now I believe we've wasted enough time, Miss Darling, you have your choice....over Harry's shoulder or on your own feet....quickly now, I'm an impatient man."
Tilting her chin, Wendy clamped her lips together and turned her shoulder to the men, her hands balled into fists as she marched past them.
"Right lads, looks like we're one our way again.....lets pick up the pace, I want to be home, before my stomach cleaves to my spine."
The strange party continued their tramp down the pitch black tunnel, the flickering light from the torches barely able to pierce the stygian gloom. Wendy often stumbled over the rough ground, a hand ever ready to steady her, her quick glances at her shadowy companion not adding anything to her knowledge of him. All she could make out was his dress and hair, both of them the same unrelieved black of a moonless night, only the occasional glint of metal to betray the presence of a brace of pistols across his chest and a sword at his side. He seemed dressed the same as the pirates with him, but various clues led Wendy to believe he was anything but one of the common crew. His person was clean, unlike the man Harry, who reeked of fish and sweat. He also spoke with a faint accent, although roughened, as if he'd been too close to a bonfire and inhaled the smoke. His hand, when he held her elbow to steady her, was as strong as steel but his nails were clipped and cared for, not jagged like the other man walking ahead of them. In all he was a mystery and Wendy pondered the riddle as they continued their trek into the depths of goodness knew where. Soon the lack of water and food started to once more sap her strength, her next stumble almost sending her into the embrace of the man at her side as she half-fainted with fatigue.
In a swift move the man swept Wendy into his arms, cradling her against his chest before resuming their journey through the tunnel.
"Not long now, my beauty, we'll see you taken care off properly, don't want Peter to accuse me of damaging his property, now do we?"
Too absorbed in the pain of her feet and head, Wendy could only murmur a reply, her eyes sliding shut as she gave in to her growing weakness.
When next she awoke it was to find herself lying on a mattress in a small cave-like room, a tiny niche holding a spluttering candle that poorly illuminated her surroundings, a door the only item to relieve the rocky walls.
A rough blanket had been thrown over her, but despite that she shivered with cold, the candle only throwing out an illusion of warmth against the chill of the hard stone. Clutching her scratchy shawl around her shoulders, Wendy struggled to her feet, her tongue feeling thick and swollen in her mouth. Near the door, on the floor, someone had placed a jug on a tray, beside it a plate with something on it. Desperate for something to drink, Wendy staggered to the door and fell to her knees, shaking hands clasping the jug and lifting it to her lips. The water was cool and faintly brackish, but to the drinker it was the finest sweet wine, slipping past her lips and down her throat in an unceasing flow.
"Oh God....thank God..."
"Don't be thanking him too soon miss....the God's can be fickle in this place."
Wendy started, the voice coming from above her, the jug almost slipping from her suddenly nerveless fingers.
"Who said that? Where are you?"
"Oh don't bother your pretty eyes to try and find me, you can't, I'm not here."
Thoroughly unnerved, Wendy stared about the small chamber, the candlelight showing her nothing but the rude pallet on the floor and the closed door. Swallowing, she placed the jug back on the tray and shuffled around so that her back pressed up against the wall.
"Why can't I see you? Am I going mad?"
The disembodied voice chuckled to itself before speaking again.
"No m'dear, not mad...although I could be forgiven for thinking that I was mad m'self...."
Scraping her hair back behind her ear, Wendy reached up to rub her eyes, as if checking to make sure they were open. When she lowered her hand, she saw something flickering uncertainly, an outline that wavered and shimmied but became more solid the longer she looked. After a long minute she could make out a man's shape, the rock wall clearly visible through him still, but his form becoming more solid as the minutes passed.
"You're....a ghost?"
"Now don't start screaming or nothing, don't want those rapscallions finding me here."
Wendy found herself more bemused than scared, the man's face appearing from the gloom to reveal itself as someone in their middle years, the eyes dark but not frightening, more sad than anything else.
"But....you're a ghost, how could they hurt you?"
"As I said before, the God's are mighty fickle with a body....one minute you're a spirit, the next you're a frog in a pond. I prefer this form to the other, if you don't mind."
Thinking that she must be hullucinating from lack of food, Wendy could only nod in agreement, her fingers clutching her blanket more firmly about her shoulders. The ghost had now finished his transformation and stood before her, still very see-through, but with more substance about his face and hands.
"Who are...er...were you?"
"George Treading, late of the HMS Circe, first lieutenant for one Captain Gardener, and you are?"
"Oh.....Wendy....Wendy Darling...well, I suppose more properly I should call myself Wendy Pan..."
"You don't know your true name?"
"No, you see.....I only recently came back to Neverland, and nothings been formalised, but its accepted, I guess, that Peter and I....." Wendy felt herself blush as George canted his head to one side and gave her a considering look.
"And where is this Peter you speak about?"
"I don't know.....he went off to find someone called Skinner, I think....he left me with the Indian's and some men came and kidnapped me...I don't know how long ago, and there was a little girl with me, and I don't know if she's alive or dead.....and I don't know where I am, or who attacked me.....or....or...." Flailing her hands helplessly, Wendy burst into noisy sobs, overcome with her situation. George looked on impassively, his arms crossed over his chest while he waited for her to get herself under control. Using her blanket, Wendy wiped her eyes and sniffed, feeling a little better for crying out her fears. "I'm sorry, I'm not usually so emotional....its just....its just..."
"Been a rough day, miss.....nothing wrong with saying it."
Wendy raised a wan smile, "Yes, it has been a rough night and day. I have no idea how long I've been kidnapped for, it was night when Fly and I sat on the knoll. I awoke the first time in sunlight, but I don't know what time of the day it was.....then I must have fainted, the next time I awoke we were in some sort of tunnel and it was dark again, but I don't know if it was day or night....do you?"
"No....sorry....haven't been to the surface in more years than I care to count....not even sure exactly where I am, to tell the truth."
"Oh....I thought.....if you're a ghost...then surely you're in the place where you died?"
"No..no..if that was the case, I'd be walking around the bottom of the ocean. The ship was lost, foundered off the coast of some island in the middle of nowhere. I was drowned before I could reach the beach, couldn't swim ya see."
"How dreadful for you.....but I suppose the island could have been Neverland, but why are you here, in these caves?"
"That I don't know...after I...er...died, I don't remember what happened, only that one day I was here....a ghost, left to haunt a pirate hideout in the middle of a mountain. Daft, if you ask me."
"Do you appear to the pirates?"
"No...waste of time, they'd just yell and swipe at me with their swords. Its' more interesting to stay out of sight and listen."
A mischievous grin suddenly appeared on George's face and Wendy felt her own lips twitch in reply. When she'd first seen the ghosts face, she had supposed him to be in his middle years, possibly older, but when he smiled he seemed younger, almost boyish.
"How old were you when you..died?"
"Not old at all, about twenty-five. It was my first posting on a ship of the line."
"So young..." Wendy whispered, grieving silently for the lost life.
"I guess I was lucky....I didn't leave a wife and family behind, only my old dad....and now I'm here, although why is anyone's guess."
"How long have you been here, in these caves?"
"Not very long, but it's hard to judge. Sometimes I think it's only been days, but then I look at the faces of the men here and realize that they have aged, so it must be years."
"I think that is so sad....."
Suddenly George moved, leaving his spot beside the wall to walk towards Wendy, his feet moving but not touching the dirt floor. As he approached Wendy couldn't help her natural reactions and shrank back against the rock behind her.
Seeing her reaction, George stopped and held out his hand. To Wendy it looked almost solid, her eyes darting from his hand to his face, the smile back on his lips as he waited for her to calm again.
Drawing in a breath, Wendy tentatively extended her hand until her fingers were only an inch away from the ghost's. Her eyes were enormous in her pale face and her fingers trembled slightly. Still smiling, George bridged the small gap and his hand closed around hers. To her surprise she could feel his fingers, the palm of his hand. It felt cold and strange, but she could really feel him. George appeared just as surprised, his eyes dropping to their hands, his fingers curled around her small hand, his flesh becoming less corporeal the longer he held her.
"I can feel your hand.....is this supposed to happen?" Wendy asked, her own starting to tremble again.
"I don't know.....I've never tried to touch anyone before....at least, not try and really touch them. I didn't know I could."
It was very odd to Wendy. She could feel his hand holding hers, no longer cold but just warm and very solid, but if she raised her eyes, she could see through his body to the candle still flickering on the opposite wall. Suddenly nervous, Wendy pulled back and George let go of her, his hand reverting to its ghostly transparency as soon as he no longer touched her.
"That was interesting......" George held up his hand and stared at it, as if willing it to be solid again. Wendy tucked hers into her blanket, a little unnerved by the whole experience.
George backed away from where Wendy sat, his eyes still contemplating his hand, until he hit the wall. Instead of stopping, in front of Wendy's incredulous eyes, George entered the wall and started to go through it until only his face, hand and one foot were still visible.
Wendy's gasp drew his attention and he looked over at her, seeing her round eyes and open mouth. Looking down at himself he saw the reason and quickly stepped back into the room, grinning sheepishly.
"Sorry, I forget sometimes....walls don't exist for me anymore."
Feeling thirsty again, Wendy lifted the earthenware jug and took another mouthful, the cool liquid sliding down her throat and filling her stomach. Putting the jug down she looked at the other contents of the tray, a plain heel of brown bread on a metal plate. Picking it up, she nibbled at the crust, her appetite returning almost painfully so that she had to restrain herself from stuffing the whole piece in her mouth and probably choking herself. George just watched, his arms once more folded over his chest as he waited for her to finish her Spartan meal.
With her final swallow, George cleared his throat, drawing her eyes to him.
"Would I be right in thinkin' you'll be wanting to get out of this place?"
"Wouldn't you?"
He laughed as her acerbic tone, his ghostly figure shaking with mirth.
"I see your point. I may have to leave you for a little bit, but don't despair, I'm just going to make a reconnoitre."
"Are you truly going to help me?"
"As far as my somewhat limited powers will allow.....don't go anywhere now!"
With a wag of his transparent finger, former first-lietenent of HMS Circe passed through the rock wall and out of Wendy's sight. Bemused she stared at the spot for a long minute before shaking her head and turning her attention to the stout door that blocked the entrance. The candle was starting to gutter behind her as she thumped her fist on the wood, the sound hollow and depressing. There was no door handle on her side and when she pushed the door is only gave a little before standing firm. Frustrated, Wendy kicked the door with her bare foot before returning to sit beside the tray, her blanket still firmly wrapped around her shoulders.
Her eyes were drawn inevitably to the small candle bravely shedding its light around her room. It was nearly burnt to the base, only another hour of life in it. She tried not to think what would happen when it finally went out.
"Peter where are you?.....why haven't you come to take me home?...." Staring at the candle, she whispered her words into the chill air of the room, a lump in her throat making her swallow hard. After a moment or two, she buried her head against her arms, her knees drawn up as she huddled against the wall.
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Peter flew low over the forest, looking for the tree that was the center of the fairy world. He frowned in annoyance when he couldn't spot the ancient oak right away. Circling over where he knew it should be, he flew down and landed between the towering trees, the tall ferns crowding close as if to capture him. Briefly he remembered the evening he'd brought Wendy to the glade, how eager he'd been to show her the fairy's and how sweetly she'd smiled her thanks as they gazed down into the hollow tree. Now he gazed around that self-same glade and couldn't see the tree anywhere. Pushing his way through the bracken he rounded a wide trunk and gasped. Where the tree had been there was only a tagged stump, its shards of wood pointing to the sky in mute protest, the white heartwood very bright against the dark of the forest greenery. Where once the tree had climbed to the sky, now only a severed, torn stump remained, sticking a foot above the tallest fern, the rest of the tree completely missing. Stepping forward slowly, Peter stared in shock at the carnage wrought on the fairy tree, his eyes raking the ground for evidence of what, or who had caused the catastrophe. As he approached he saw that the ground was scuffed with many booted footprints, the plants crushed and ripped from the ground, close to the tree's base. Here and there were flattened branches, ripped from the main trunk, some with cleanly cut ends where a sword or axe had cut them from the tree. In the center of the wreckage stood all that remained of the once magnificent tree, the splintered fingers of wood pointing jaggedly upwards, the hollow center a black hole leading down to the roots. He found the remains of the knothole that he and Wendy had watched the fairies through, it was scratched and cut, as if someone had tried to hack their way in through the opening. Inside all was dark, no sign that the tree had ever been ablaze with golden fairy light, its roots strung with fireflies and glow-worms, giving the appearance of a golden treasure chest. Now it was just a dark hole, chips of wood and sawdust on the dirt floor that had been the fairy's dance floor.
"Who has done this awful thing? Who?"
Not expecting an answer, Peter started in surprise when a voice sounded close to his ear, his head snapping around to find a small swarm of bright lights hovering just above the heads of the ferns behind him.
One of the lights detached from the others and flew close to Peter's face. The fairy was very small, only a juvenile, but Peter noticed that all the fairies hovering were not much bigger, all of them very young.
The tiny fairy hovered, her wings beating rapidly, just beyond Peter's's nose, her head on one side, as if measuring his worth. Peter held his breath, his heart beating slowly as he waited for the tiny creature to speak. His patience was rewarded when a tinkle of bells sounded when the creature opened its mouth.
"Who are you that comes to gloat over our ruined home?"
"I don't come to gloat-I am Peter Pan."
The small floating cloud of fairies instantly burst into a noisy chatter, the one in front of Peter registering surprise on her tiny face.
"We have heard of you....but this is the first time we've seen the one called Peter Pan....where have you been all this time?"
For a moment Peter was nonplussed. He hadn't realized that he'd been out of touch with the fairies so long. These were newly hatched, admittedly, but to have become such a stranger to his friends that they thought he had been hiding, it was a blow to Peter.
"I haven't been anywhere....I've just been....busy for awhile. How is the Queen?"
The tiny fairies exchanged a glance between each other and Peter's heart lurched, was he too late?
"The Queen is better.....she was unwell for a long time, and these latest attacks on our people has made her sick. But we have a new home, and for now we are safe."
"Can you take me to the Queen? I would very much like to see her again."
At his request the fairies fluttered about his head, only the smallest remaining in front of his face.
"You cannot see the Queen.....we do not know you.......how do we know you are the Pan, and not another pirate come to harm us?"
"Did pirates do this?" Peter waved his arm to indicate the blasted remains of the old oak.
"Yes they did........it was before our time, but we have heard the story. It was a dark time for our Queen. She barely escaped with her life, and most of the swarm were decimated or captured."
"Please....I must see the Queen. Can you take a message to her?"
The tiny creature nodded, her friends gathered behind her in a tight, wary flock of bright lights and gossamer wings.
"We will do that-you are not like the others, they shouted the words and made our swarm fall and die, you haven't said the words."
In dawning horror Peter's stared open mouthed at the fairies. "The words?"
"The men that came before, they shouted the words that all fairies fear and one by one our people started to fall, after a few minutes half had died, it was a terrible sight, so we've been told. The Queen gathered those that remained and flew with them as fast and as far as she could, out of the hearing of those bad men and their killing words."
"I didn't know...." Peter whispered, heartsick that he'd been so ignorant of events in his own world.
"We have been taught that one day a champion would appear to set right the wrongs done to our kind.....are you that champion?"
Swallowing hard, Peter raised his eyes to the tiny lights that watched him warily. "I will be your champion...I will find the men that did this and kill them!"
At his fierce avowal the fairies twittered and fluttered around him, showering him with their dust until he glowed with gilded frosting.
"We will go now and tell the Queen what we have seen and heard. We will ask her is she will see you. Be here when the sun sets and you will have your answer."
Not waiting for Peter to respond, the tiny sparks of light shot up into the air and flew rapidly away, their trails dropping to the earth like golden rain. Peter watched them go with a faint feeling of hope.
Turning away, he walked back along the trail leading away from the blasted tree, his footsteps heavy as he contemplated all that he'd found out in the short time since he'd returned to the Indian village to find Wendy gone.
Needing somewhere to sit and think, he rose into the air and wove between the tree trunks until he reached his old tree, now too small and derelict to be used as a home. He tugged on the vine that opened the door, the bark lifting reluctantly to reveal its secret passage. Peering into the dark Peter sniffed, smelling the scent of decay and disuse. Letting the bark doorway drop back into place, he sat down cross legged on the mossy ground and leant his head back against his old hideout.
So much had happened in the few short hours since he and Wendy had swum in the rock gorge. So much had been revealed to him that he felt dizzy from all the thoughts and feelings raging through him.
Topmost was his fear that Hook or his henchmen were hurting his Wendy. He would never have left her if he'd known the extent of the changes that had been wrought in his world without him noticing. He tried to think back but the last few years had been so overwhelming with his new found body and burgeoning emotions that he couldn't remember anything happening out of the ordinary. He certainly would have remembered if anyone had told him that Hook was back, alive and apparently still plotting Peter's downfall, but no-one had even mentioned Hook's name, let alone his whereabouts. Peter tried to think back to his times spent with the former pirates of the Jolly Roger. Not once could he recall Smee mentioning his old Captain, nor could he recall the last time he'd spoken to the Fairy Queen. Why had no one told him what was happening? Were they all afraid of him? Or maybe more afraid of Hook? Now, into this state of chaos, he'd brought Wendy, exposing her to terrible danger at the hands of Peter's worst enemy. Peter ground his teeth again at the thought of Wendy in Hook's power, his hands clenching around the hilt of his dagger as if to plunge it into his enemy's black heart. And why had no-one told him about the fairy tree? That was the hardest to bear. He had loved Tinkerbell and she him, it had been a terrible blow when she'd died, his heart and mind missing her whenever he visited any of his old haunts, her tinkling laugh and mischievous pranks remembered with great affection and grief at her loss. It was after her death that he started to shy away from the fairies and their business, but surely the Mermaid's would have known what was happening, they should have told him what had been going on.
But now he knew, and Neverland was paying the price for his neglect. Hook had returned from the dead and was wreaking havoc in Peter's world once more, destroying and stealing worse than he'd ever done before the arrival of the Darling children. It was up to Peter to set things right again, it was his task, and his alone to rid Neverland of Hook and his accomplices once and for all. He knew from the Indian's that what few sighting of Hook they had made, had all been within the vicinity of the old smoke cabin, down below the bluff. He would start there and track the villain to his lair. There he would be sure to find Wendy, and his duty to protect Neverland from the likes of Hook would be fulfilled.
Satisfied that his course was clear, Peter rose to his feet and flew into the air. The sun was starting to sink below the tree tops and if the Queen was to grant him an audience he would have to return to the tree and wait until sunset. Hopefully what he learned from her would cement what he'd already found out from the Mermaids and the Indians, then armed he would set out to rescue Wendy and revenge the wrongs committed against Neverland and it's protector, Peter Pan.
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I can see the threads weaving together, nearly time for another actor to enter stage-left, doncha think? Will try to hurry up with the next chapter, in the meantime.......have atcha puling spawn!! grin