This story takes place only a few years after Wendy's first visit to
Neverland with Peter Pan, so it is considered a follow-up to the 2003 P.J.
Hogan film Peter Pan (with some natural references to the original Barrie
novel [1911] and his own Peter Pan prequel, Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens
[1904]).
WARNING: This chapter may be upsetting to some people. Again I entreat of you to just stick with me here anyway... ;-)
Once more, I have no ownership of any of the characters or actors who portrayed them. But this story is mine, so mitts off!
Here be Chapter V .....more comments please! :-)
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
V. GRIM CHOICES
If all fairies decided to be so rudely unhelpful and uncooperative as Tinker Bell was to Wendy this day, surely they would all be sent guiltlessly tumbling to their deaths upon the utterance of six little words. And I daresay the temptation had presented itself to Wendy as well, even for all of her forgiving nature, but she held her tongue and reminded herself that Tinker Bell's obligation lay with Peter and not with her. Hence the pixie could not quite altogether be faulted for her obstinacy.
The fairy dust had since worn off on Wendy (its effects do wane quicker as you become older), but Tinker Bell would have rather cut off her own wings than provide her with more. The forest was thick and dark as night even though daytime still burned luminously beyond the trees, but Tinker Bell would sooner drink more of Captain Hook's poison than allow Wendy to use her as a guiding light through the jungle. Hence Wendy was more or less on her own as she attempted to follow Peter and the Boys' trail; Tinker Bell lagged stubbornly behind if only to alert Wendy to some impending danger.
Then, you may find yourself asking, just how was Wendy able to track the boys' progress through the woods? It is due thusly: Most careless and frivolous young boys – particularly those without mothers – have not the sense nor interest in picking up after themselves, especially whilst racing through a jungle toward an adventure with all the reckless abandon that parents devote their lives attempting to suppress. So, to this we can attribute Wendy's periodic stumbling upon broken bows, shed feathers, torn bits of clothing caught on bushes, and other such paraphernalia left behind by the juveniles as a virtual map of their whereabouts laid out before her. Even their very laughter lingered among the brush in their wake, conducting Wendy in the proper direction.
Soon, daylight was sparkling through the treetops, and Wendy could see a vast clearing dead ahead. It was around this time that the boys seemed to become more mindful of the clues they were dropping behind, and Wendy was again left quite to her own devices. Peering through a thicket, she could see the deep basin of Dead Man's Ditch not far off, and the incline swooping up from it that overlooked the ocean beyond. Somewhere, there was a path that led to a cliffside hollow used for a supply hold by the pirates. Either Wendy uncovered this path, or she would have to scale the cliff and seek out Peter and the Boys from above...
* * * *
Specs sat cross-legged up against the cliff wall and adjusted his eyeglasses. He was always the designated look-out on excursions as these, for if an enemy were to spotted in the distance, he could figure within moments how far away they were and how fast they were approaching, and with this information he could decipher how much time the Boys had to finish what the were doing and make their escape, and other such complicated matters that made Peter's head ache just thinking of them. Specs kept his eyes targeted seaward, with only a few nervous glances toward the jagged rocks of Blind Man's Bluff some twenty yards straight below the narrow ridge on which he sat.
Just to his right was where this path receded into a cave carved into the cliffside, masked from the world by strategically placed shrubbery and other such clever disguises. Inside, Peter Pan and the other three Lost Boys found their way around a series of small winding passages, dug out on a slight downward slope, which led ultimately to a great room where the pirates' booty lay hidden from the masses. They had come upon a few booby traps along the way, which had quite obviously been set for someone much larger and less agile than Peter and his mates, for they were able to easily evade their supposed outcomes. And so the Boys lay their grubby hands on the pirate treasure virtually unscathed, and began packing all they could into their clothes and satchels and whatever else could be used as carriers, with no consideration at all as to the looming predicament near to befall them.
By the time Wendy's cheek collapsed upon the crest of the precipice, she scarce had any energy left in her to proceed with the actual *adventure* part of her journey! Her dress was soiled, her hands and feet blackened with dirt, and her spirit melancholy. Why, 'twas only a short time ago when she would have been able to conquer mountains twice the height of this willful old cliff whence she now lay completely drained of breath! She rather felt like crying, and Tinker Bell's incessant chatter was of no help.
But on the other hand, the fairy's jeering did manage to strengthen Wendy's resolve a bit, if only out of sheer pride. She could not understand a word of Tinker Bell's language, but she need not in order to know how the fairy was mocking her. Oh, how she would promptly put a lid on that little devil's ranting!
Slowly but surely, Wendy brought herself up to her elbows, then up to her knees, and finally into a seated position atop the cliff. Her location afforded her a spectacular view of the sea beyond the island in front of her, and very briefly did she consider just staying in that quaint spot to watch the Sun complete its journey across the sky. But alas, the only type of person who would fancy watching the Sun in lieu of having an adventure would be a *grown-up*, and Wendy was adamant that she was *not*, so she pried her attention away from the skies and toward the cliffside around and below her.
Her eyes carefully scanned her surroundings. The cliff curved in a distinct S-shape, and where she was sitting, you could say, formed the first curve – sloping inward and then out again toward her right so that she could see the furthermost point of the cliff perpendicular to the Bluff reaching out before her. And it was within this slope, nestled in a tiny corner facing Wendy's sightline, that she caught a glimpse of sunlight reflected off an even tinier glassy surface. Quickly she was able to determine that this reflection was caused by a pair of eyeglasses, and that behind those eyeglasses there was a boy, sitting flush and somewhat camouflaged against the cliffside upon a frightfully narrow ridge jutting from it, whom she immediately recognized to be the crafty Lost Boy known as Specs.
Wendy wanted to call out to him, to rouse his attention, but she thought better of it. Heaven only knew what could be lurking about, ready to pounce on her or the boys in the cliff below. She opted instead for a 'stage whisper' – huskily wheezing his name out into the air without any vocal timbre in the hopes that his notice would be piqued and drawn in her direction. But alas, she was too far away, and the wind carried her projection back down into the valley beneath her.
How the devil was she to get his attention? Altogether ignoring Tinker Bell's haughty scoffing, Wendy looked about her immediate area and observed the light scattering of rocks and pebbles dislodged and laying about the summit of this cliff. Aha!
Picking up a pebble no bigger than her nose, Wendy geared up and tossed it toward Specs. But the pebble was too small and light, and the wind promptly swept is aside. Wendy picked up a bigger pebble, this the size of her palm, and lobbed it aft. This time, it made contact with the cliffside, but not close or loud enough for Specs to notice. Finally, seizing up all her might and gumption, Wendy stood upon her knees and gripped her fingers about a rock bigger than her entire hand – and weighing twice as much – and with every ounce of strength left in her, sent it hurtling toward the doomed boy.
Wendy watched in horror as the rock stuck true its target square in the face, and she could hear the echo not only of his yelp, but also in the shatter of metal and glass that the impact produced. She gasped and collapsed to her elbows, her hands clasped over her mouth. Even the chatterbox Tinker Bell was momentarily left speechless, and she exchanged a frightened look with Wendy.
They could see the boy was not seriously injured, thank Heaven, but his trusty eyeglasses were but a memory. There was no floor for them to have tumbled onto, as the ridge he sat upon was far too narrow, and so they opted instead to go plummeting in a thousand pieces toward the Bluff below. And Wendy winced shamefully as she heard the echo of a thousand swear words – one for each shattered piece of eyeglass I imagine – stream from the otherwise rational boy's mouth. He frantically felt the area about him in his private darkness for any salvageable shred of those precious crutches.
Wendy was rightly mortified, and she could only watch the boy grapple helplessly. She tried to think of something – ANYTHING – she could do to right the situation, but her deliberations were suddenly cut short when she felt an awful tug upon her hair from Tinker Bell.
"Oh, what IS it, you uncouth little..." But she was not able to finish once the fairy thrust her head seaward.
She could see – indeed, they *both* could see – in the misty distance, a small caravan of dinghies rowing menacingly toward the Bluff. Wendy knew instantly the depraved individuals who occupied the boats too, for they haunted even her most celebratory dreams...
The pirates were coming!
Wendy struggled to her feet, not knowing quite what else to do. She glanced down upon the hollow in the cliff where Specs was still stamping his feet and cursing to the wind. Oh, but he had to be warned! They all did! And so, throwing herself thoughtlessly into harm's way, Wendy stood at the very edge of the cliff and shouted out Peter's name as loud as the island and her lungs would allow.
Almost immediately, Wendy felt her lips being clamped together by Tinker Bell, who was jingling, squeaking, and shaking her little head most incessantly. She made several grand gestures that Wendy took as meaning that the fairy would venture down into the cavern and warn Peter herself.
But the Boys had already begun to file out of the pirate hold, arms full and still quite unaware of the approaching enemy. They stopped only briefly to inquire about Specs's strange difficulty. And when Peter himself emerged, Wendy forgot herself and Tinker Bell's proposal when she at once called out his name again. To further make a target of herself, she began jumping up and down and flailing her arms, sending Tinker Bell into quite a snit. But Wendy's strategy worked, as Peter's attention was quickly gained. He instantly recognized the flash of white prancing about on the clifftop.
And sadly, so too did the armed buccaneers in the oncoming dinghies.
Peter had nary a chance to scold the foolish young lady upon the precipice when a loud shot rang out. At once did the blast befall at Wendy's feet, setting her horribly off-balance and lurching forward from the cliff. With a shriek, she doubled over across the edge. And she most certainly would have struck the rocks below had she not the presence of mind to grab hold of a mass of tree roots peering from the cliffside but a foot or two below the crest. There she dangled perilously, and Peter called out her name.
"Peter!" Wendy replied in kind. "Help! Help me, PLEASE!"
But Peter only stood and watched her struggle, as if powerless to her situation. The other Boys had long since fled the hold, only Doubly lagging back for a moment to say:
"Peter, come on! You can't help her! LET'S GO!"
But still Peter remained on the ridge, unable to tear his eyes from his Wendy. She could see him standing there in the corner of her eye, and she called out to him more fervently than ever. Why was he just *standing* there, for goodness sake?! It was almost as if he really didn't *want* to help her!
Even Tinker Bell seemed at a loss for what to do. The pirates were getting closer by the second, and Wendy would not be able to hold on much longer. What was one to do? So she waited for Peter's reaction.
At last did he have one. In a single swift movement, Peter dropped his loot to the ground before him – some of it spilling over the ridge and onto the Bluff below – and flew rapidly in Wendy's direction. He darted up from beneath her and wrapped his arms around her midsection to try and hoist her up. He teeth gnashed together as he attempted to pry her up, but she would only budge a few inches. No, it was no use. 'Twas quite as he suspected. She was too heavy for him to carry now.
Beads of sweat trickling from his temples, Peter jumped up onto the cliff's edge himself and hung over the side, his arms outstretched beneath him. He bade Wendy try and grab at least one of his hands, and with tremendous effort she was able to do so.
The pirates were almost upon the Bluff now. They could hear them plainly. Peter could even smell them.
Wendy tried to take Peter's other hand, but she was not confident whatsoever in the sturdiness of his hold upon her, despite his assurances that his grip with true.
"No, Peter, I can't! I will fall!" Wendy squealed.
Finally, the light in Peter's head lit. Although he could not expect Wendy to conjure up very many Happy Thoughts at this precise moment, he had to at least take a stab at it. He looked at Tinker Bell, hovering nervously close- by.
"Tink! Hit her with some dust! NOW!"
Peter tried not to notice that the pirates were now beginning to dock and pour out of the dinghies, every one of them singing a song of doom.
Tinker Bell had her orders, and flying up next to Wendy's head, she rubbed her little hands together, building up the biggest and gayest batch of dust she could conjure...
And as fast as you could think it, a game old parrot, squawking miserably, shot up seemingly out of nowhere and plucked the little fairy clean out of mid-air. In a flash, they were gone, disappearing into the jungle behind.
"TINK!" Peter bellowed so loud his voice cracked and the entire island shuddered. He followed their path with his entire body, his obligations instantly altered.
"Peter, NO!" Wendy pleaded to him, but it was for naught. He no longer heard her.
So dreadfully did she feel Peter's grip from her hand slip free, and she could only watch helpless as he sprung from the cliffside with nary a second glance in her direction, disappearing with the wind in order to rescue his endangered and adored fairy.
And no sooner had Peter's feet left the cliff than Wendy lost all hold upon the frail tree roots, hearing along with the awful snap as they broke in two the unbearable countdown to her own ruin. She shut her eyes tight, bracing for the end. Then the final root tore away and sent Wendy tumbling toward the merciless Bluff below. And thus she screamed her final plea to the Fates to make her demise as quick and painless as possible...
WARNING: This chapter may be upsetting to some people. Again I entreat of you to just stick with me here anyway... ;-)
Once more, I have no ownership of any of the characters or actors who portrayed them. But this story is mine, so mitts off!
Here be Chapter V .....more comments please! :-)
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
V. GRIM CHOICES
If all fairies decided to be so rudely unhelpful and uncooperative as Tinker Bell was to Wendy this day, surely they would all be sent guiltlessly tumbling to their deaths upon the utterance of six little words. And I daresay the temptation had presented itself to Wendy as well, even for all of her forgiving nature, but she held her tongue and reminded herself that Tinker Bell's obligation lay with Peter and not with her. Hence the pixie could not quite altogether be faulted for her obstinacy.
The fairy dust had since worn off on Wendy (its effects do wane quicker as you become older), but Tinker Bell would have rather cut off her own wings than provide her with more. The forest was thick and dark as night even though daytime still burned luminously beyond the trees, but Tinker Bell would sooner drink more of Captain Hook's poison than allow Wendy to use her as a guiding light through the jungle. Hence Wendy was more or less on her own as she attempted to follow Peter and the Boys' trail; Tinker Bell lagged stubbornly behind if only to alert Wendy to some impending danger.
Then, you may find yourself asking, just how was Wendy able to track the boys' progress through the woods? It is due thusly: Most careless and frivolous young boys – particularly those without mothers – have not the sense nor interest in picking up after themselves, especially whilst racing through a jungle toward an adventure with all the reckless abandon that parents devote their lives attempting to suppress. So, to this we can attribute Wendy's periodic stumbling upon broken bows, shed feathers, torn bits of clothing caught on bushes, and other such paraphernalia left behind by the juveniles as a virtual map of their whereabouts laid out before her. Even their very laughter lingered among the brush in their wake, conducting Wendy in the proper direction.
Soon, daylight was sparkling through the treetops, and Wendy could see a vast clearing dead ahead. It was around this time that the boys seemed to become more mindful of the clues they were dropping behind, and Wendy was again left quite to her own devices. Peering through a thicket, she could see the deep basin of Dead Man's Ditch not far off, and the incline swooping up from it that overlooked the ocean beyond. Somewhere, there was a path that led to a cliffside hollow used for a supply hold by the pirates. Either Wendy uncovered this path, or she would have to scale the cliff and seek out Peter and the Boys from above...
* * * *
Specs sat cross-legged up against the cliff wall and adjusted his eyeglasses. He was always the designated look-out on excursions as these, for if an enemy were to spotted in the distance, he could figure within moments how far away they were and how fast they were approaching, and with this information he could decipher how much time the Boys had to finish what the were doing and make their escape, and other such complicated matters that made Peter's head ache just thinking of them. Specs kept his eyes targeted seaward, with only a few nervous glances toward the jagged rocks of Blind Man's Bluff some twenty yards straight below the narrow ridge on which he sat.
Just to his right was where this path receded into a cave carved into the cliffside, masked from the world by strategically placed shrubbery and other such clever disguises. Inside, Peter Pan and the other three Lost Boys found their way around a series of small winding passages, dug out on a slight downward slope, which led ultimately to a great room where the pirates' booty lay hidden from the masses. They had come upon a few booby traps along the way, which had quite obviously been set for someone much larger and less agile than Peter and his mates, for they were able to easily evade their supposed outcomes. And so the Boys lay their grubby hands on the pirate treasure virtually unscathed, and began packing all they could into their clothes and satchels and whatever else could be used as carriers, with no consideration at all as to the looming predicament near to befall them.
By the time Wendy's cheek collapsed upon the crest of the precipice, she scarce had any energy left in her to proceed with the actual *adventure* part of her journey! Her dress was soiled, her hands and feet blackened with dirt, and her spirit melancholy. Why, 'twas only a short time ago when she would have been able to conquer mountains twice the height of this willful old cliff whence she now lay completely drained of breath! She rather felt like crying, and Tinker Bell's incessant chatter was of no help.
But on the other hand, the fairy's jeering did manage to strengthen Wendy's resolve a bit, if only out of sheer pride. She could not understand a word of Tinker Bell's language, but she need not in order to know how the fairy was mocking her. Oh, how she would promptly put a lid on that little devil's ranting!
Slowly but surely, Wendy brought herself up to her elbows, then up to her knees, and finally into a seated position atop the cliff. Her location afforded her a spectacular view of the sea beyond the island in front of her, and very briefly did she consider just staying in that quaint spot to watch the Sun complete its journey across the sky. But alas, the only type of person who would fancy watching the Sun in lieu of having an adventure would be a *grown-up*, and Wendy was adamant that she was *not*, so she pried her attention away from the skies and toward the cliffside around and below her.
Her eyes carefully scanned her surroundings. The cliff curved in a distinct S-shape, and where she was sitting, you could say, formed the first curve – sloping inward and then out again toward her right so that she could see the furthermost point of the cliff perpendicular to the Bluff reaching out before her. And it was within this slope, nestled in a tiny corner facing Wendy's sightline, that she caught a glimpse of sunlight reflected off an even tinier glassy surface. Quickly she was able to determine that this reflection was caused by a pair of eyeglasses, and that behind those eyeglasses there was a boy, sitting flush and somewhat camouflaged against the cliffside upon a frightfully narrow ridge jutting from it, whom she immediately recognized to be the crafty Lost Boy known as Specs.
Wendy wanted to call out to him, to rouse his attention, but she thought better of it. Heaven only knew what could be lurking about, ready to pounce on her or the boys in the cliff below. She opted instead for a 'stage whisper' – huskily wheezing his name out into the air without any vocal timbre in the hopes that his notice would be piqued and drawn in her direction. But alas, she was too far away, and the wind carried her projection back down into the valley beneath her.
How the devil was she to get his attention? Altogether ignoring Tinker Bell's haughty scoffing, Wendy looked about her immediate area and observed the light scattering of rocks and pebbles dislodged and laying about the summit of this cliff. Aha!
Picking up a pebble no bigger than her nose, Wendy geared up and tossed it toward Specs. But the pebble was too small and light, and the wind promptly swept is aside. Wendy picked up a bigger pebble, this the size of her palm, and lobbed it aft. This time, it made contact with the cliffside, but not close or loud enough for Specs to notice. Finally, seizing up all her might and gumption, Wendy stood upon her knees and gripped her fingers about a rock bigger than her entire hand – and weighing twice as much – and with every ounce of strength left in her, sent it hurtling toward the doomed boy.
Wendy watched in horror as the rock stuck true its target square in the face, and she could hear the echo not only of his yelp, but also in the shatter of metal and glass that the impact produced. She gasped and collapsed to her elbows, her hands clasped over her mouth. Even the chatterbox Tinker Bell was momentarily left speechless, and she exchanged a frightened look with Wendy.
They could see the boy was not seriously injured, thank Heaven, but his trusty eyeglasses were but a memory. There was no floor for them to have tumbled onto, as the ridge he sat upon was far too narrow, and so they opted instead to go plummeting in a thousand pieces toward the Bluff below. And Wendy winced shamefully as she heard the echo of a thousand swear words – one for each shattered piece of eyeglass I imagine – stream from the otherwise rational boy's mouth. He frantically felt the area about him in his private darkness for any salvageable shred of those precious crutches.
Wendy was rightly mortified, and she could only watch the boy grapple helplessly. She tried to think of something – ANYTHING – she could do to right the situation, but her deliberations were suddenly cut short when she felt an awful tug upon her hair from Tinker Bell.
"Oh, what IS it, you uncouth little..." But she was not able to finish once the fairy thrust her head seaward.
She could see – indeed, they *both* could see – in the misty distance, a small caravan of dinghies rowing menacingly toward the Bluff. Wendy knew instantly the depraved individuals who occupied the boats too, for they haunted even her most celebratory dreams...
The pirates were coming!
Wendy struggled to her feet, not knowing quite what else to do. She glanced down upon the hollow in the cliff where Specs was still stamping his feet and cursing to the wind. Oh, but he had to be warned! They all did! And so, throwing herself thoughtlessly into harm's way, Wendy stood at the very edge of the cliff and shouted out Peter's name as loud as the island and her lungs would allow.
Almost immediately, Wendy felt her lips being clamped together by Tinker Bell, who was jingling, squeaking, and shaking her little head most incessantly. She made several grand gestures that Wendy took as meaning that the fairy would venture down into the cavern and warn Peter herself.
But the Boys had already begun to file out of the pirate hold, arms full and still quite unaware of the approaching enemy. They stopped only briefly to inquire about Specs's strange difficulty. And when Peter himself emerged, Wendy forgot herself and Tinker Bell's proposal when she at once called out his name again. To further make a target of herself, she began jumping up and down and flailing her arms, sending Tinker Bell into quite a snit. But Wendy's strategy worked, as Peter's attention was quickly gained. He instantly recognized the flash of white prancing about on the clifftop.
And sadly, so too did the armed buccaneers in the oncoming dinghies.
Peter had nary a chance to scold the foolish young lady upon the precipice when a loud shot rang out. At once did the blast befall at Wendy's feet, setting her horribly off-balance and lurching forward from the cliff. With a shriek, she doubled over across the edge. And she most certainly would have struck the rocks below had she not the presence of mind to grab hold of a mass of tree roots peering from the cliffside but a foot or two below the crest. There she dangled perilously, and Peter called out her name.
"Peter!" Wendy replied in kind. "Help! Help me, PLEASE!"
But Peter only stood and watched her struggle, as if powerless to her situation. The other Boys had long since fled the hold, only Doubly lagging back for a moment to say:
"Peter, come on! You can't help her! LET'S GO!"
But still Peter remained on the ridge, unable to tear his eyes from his Wendy. She could see him standing there in the corner of her eye, and she called out to him more fervently than ever. Why was he just *standing* there, for goodness sake?! It was almost as if he really didn't *want* to help her!
Even Tinker Bell seemed at a loss for what to do. The pirates were getting closer by the second, and Wendy would not be able to hold on much longer. What was one to do? So she waited for Peter's reaction.
At last did he have one. In a single swift movement, Peter dropped his loot to the ground before him – some of it spilling over the ridge and onto the Bluff below – and flew rapidly in Wendy's direction. He darted up from beneath her and wrapped his arms around her midsection to try and hoist her up. He teeth gnashed together as he attempted to pry her up, but she would only budge a few inches. No, it was no use. 'Twas quite as he suspected. She was too heavy for him to carry now.
Beads of sweat trickling from his temples, Peter jumped up onto the cliff's edge himself and hung over the side, his arms outstretched beneath him. He bade Wendy try and grab at least one of his hands, and with tremendous effort she was able to do so.
The pirates were almost upon the Bluff now. They could hear them plainly. Peter could even smell them.
Wendy tried to take Peter's other hand, but she was not confident whatsoever in the sturdiness of his hold upon her, despite his assurances that his grip with true.
"No, Peter, I can't! I will fall!" Wendy squealed.
Finally, the light in Peter's head lit. Although he could not expect Wendy to conjure up very many Happy Thoughts at this precise moment, he had to at least take a stab at it. He looked at Tinker Bell, hovering nervously close- by.
"Tink! Hit her with some dust! NOW!"
Peter tried not to notice that the pirates were now beginning to dock and pour out of the dinghies, every one of them singing a song of doom.
Tinker Bell had her orders, and flying up next to Wendy's head, she rubbed her little hands together, building up the biggest and gayest batch of dust she could conjure...
And as fast as you could think it, a game old parrot, squawking miserably, shot up seemingly out of nowhere and plucked the little fairy clean out of mid-air. In a flash, they were gone, disappearing into the jungle behind.
"TINK!" Peter bellowed so loud his voice cracked and the entire island shuddered. He followed their path with his entire body, his obligations instantly altered.
"Peter, NO!" Wendy pleaded to him, but it was for naught. He no longer heard her.
So dreadfully did she feel Peter's grip from her hand slip free, and she could only watch helpless as he sprung from the cliffside with nary a second glance in her direction, disappearing with the wind in order to rescue his endangered and adored fairy.
And no sooner had Peter's feet left the cliff than Wendy lost all hold upon the frail tree roots, hearing along with the awful snap as they broke in two the unbearable countdown to her own ruin. She shut her eyes tight, bracing for the end. Then the final root tore away and sent Wendy tumbling toward the merciless Bluff below. And thus she screamed her final plea to the Fates to make her demise as quick and painless as possible...