The Scroll Of Kesmehet
Chapter Five: Lonely Hats
William Turner had always considered himself to be an upstanding gentleman—in manner, if not in name. He was also considered by some to be, for want of a better word, conventional. In all senses of the word. Tall, with dark hair and eyes, he was conventionally handsome. Years of daily three-hour fencing had turned him into a conventionally skilled swordsman. A warm heart, pure as a newborn lamb's, untainted and true, marked him as being a conventional paragon of virtue—a knight of justice, as it were.
Plus, he was extremely popular with the ladies. With everything aforementioned combined, if Will was anymore conventional, he would have been the star of many a garish romance novel. And, true to tradition, he never took advantage of this last fact, as a matter of honour. Some people called it noble, respectful, admirable.
Most individuals he encountered, however, thought otherwise: one of them, a fey pirate that pranced around as though preparing for a change of gender, had dismissed it as a side-effect of castration.
Another, a dark-haired girl of middleclass that believed herself a decent (romance) novelist and therefore shunned the light of day had, on one of her rare ventures out of her abode, told her two companions, a vampiric brunette and a taciturn redhead: "And that's William Turner, the local blacksmith. He's preparing for monkhood." At which the vampiric brunette showered him with evidence that Jesus Christ was not the true messiah, conjuring a Bible the better to point out the irrational and somewhat conflicting passages, told him he had no soul to worry about saving or damning in the first place, and then launched into a long explanation as to how a person can never truly die to begin with.
He'd never set foot in a church since.
But in spite of his lack of religious fervour (which had earned many a frown from the Governor), young William's sense of morality was high, complimenting his earnest sense of decorum. A conventional hero. Many adored him (to point out that the vast majority were impressionable and hormonal young girls only added to his supposedly nonexistent ego); an almost equal amount paid him no mind at all; and some, (the majority of which were ugly virginal males) were in on a giant conspiracy to have him murdered. (BtB—Burn the Blacksmith. A James Norrington was rumoured to be the chairman…)
But, like the fabled Achilles and his heel-exposing footwear, Will had a weakness (good news for the BtB). To be perfectly honest, he had several weaknesses, but there was always one that got to him more than any other. He had… a fear, a phobia, a wily arch-nemesis which he'd thought he'd left far behind in England.
It was a wild animal, untamed, full of bloodlust, driven by an insatiable hunger; a monstrous beast with gargantuan teeth and gratuitously large ears, fur covering its entire body.
And no, it wasn't his mother's cousin's aunt-by-marriage Maude, although that in itself was enough to send him running to the hills, presumably with a tail between his legs (he was not a eunuch, after all).
Two fathomless black eyes regarded the petrified blacksmith in hunger as he cowered in the rafters, a carrot clenched firmly in his fist; in his terror-driven haste, Will had accidentally grabbed the vegetable that was to be a part Mr Brown's supper instead of one of the many swords. Clearly, conventional heroes only had brains when the time came to save the world. Otherwise, they just went about their daily business with a thousand drooling followers at their heels.
His eyes turned to the door as it creaked open and three piratical figures entered, only one of which was familiar. A handsome man, somewhere in his late forties, regarded the neat space before him with observant, intelligent eyes, whilst the beautiful woman on his arm—who was, for some reason, wearing what looked like one of the Governor's old ebony wigs—did likewise. Jack Sparrow surveyed the scene once with a bored expression, sashaying over to the desk and picking up various fruits and vegetables that were the result of Will's trip to the greengrocer's—and walked right pass it.
It had scurried under the table at the first hint of intruders, and was now lost to Will's vision—although whether that was a blessing or a curse was debatable. Anyhow, the point is that Will was now free to survey the following occurrence without it at the forefront of his mind.
Even though she was hanging quite happily off of the stranger's arm, the woman—ivory- skinned and amethyst-eyed, with other facial features that were quite attractive—had taken the opportunity to survey the captain's, um, assets, (for conventional heroes and knights of justice do not say the word "arse") released the unnamed man's arm, stepped back, and let her gaze drift down, obviously making a comparison. She shrugged, latching back onto his forearm and leaning her head against his shoulder affectionately.
"Yeah, you'll do," she said in a high and nasal voice that was inflected with an accent Will had never heard before, having spent his entire life in English-speaking communities. "You're older; you've a decent excuse."
The man, quite understandably, threw her off. "Go run along and rape Jack, you pitiable excuse of a man," he ordered, although his hands quickly disappeared behind his back, as though to check that everything there was all well and good and in decent order. He sighed in relief; the woman, meanwhile, had stumbled hurriedly backwards, keen not to miss the show, and pouting when she realized that she had.
"Can you do that again?" she asked, her expression hopeful.
"No."
"Can I?"
"No!"
"Now you know how it feels, don't you?" Jack asked gleefully. "The reason why I've taken to walking sideways—" But he was cut short by the wanton woman before him, who had turned to the unnamed man in the little group of three, hands indignantly on her hips as she glared at the man that had refused to allow her to grope him.
"The reason I'm such a pitiable excuse of a man is because I'm a woman—"
A disbelieving snort escaped from the pirate captain as he ingested a bunch of very expensive grapes, whilst the man she was addressing exclaimed, "Flavio, we've been through this—I'm certain if you look in your breeches you'll get a very big surprise!"
"Or little, as the case may be," Jack put in.
"Because I am a woman," Flavio continued, unfazed, "and you are both in denial of the fact as I am currently giving no indication as to who, out of the two of you, is the captor of my heart—"
"Captor of your groin, more like," Jack put in.
Flavio gasped in shock, hand at her—or was it his?—heart. "You Englishmen are all so very crude," she informed them dramatically. "Why, in the Court of Venice—" Ah, so that was the accent…
"You are not the granddaughter of the Grand Duke of Venice!" Jack and the other man snapped. Will supposed that this must be true. "You're not even female!"
"But I am," Flavio whined, and Will was inclined to believe her; she did look like one, after all… Wig aside, of course. "I'm the only granddaughter of the Grand Duke of Venice currently disguised as a female commoner embarking on life as a pirate—who is, coincidentally enough, forced to pretend to be a man just to set foot on a ship, but is too beautiful to be taken as male, and so is now living life as thus: a Venetian noblewoman impersonating a commoner impersonating a pirate impersonating a man impersonating a woman!"
She paused, panting for breath. "…Do you understand?"
"…That's too elaborate to be the truth," Jack reasoned after a very long pause, still chewing his grapes. "And if it were so, why did you go to so much trouble only to tell me everything within a week after meeting me?" Clearly, his logic could not be beaten…
…Or could it?
"Because I've fallen madly, passionately in love with you and can't bear to hide the truth from my sweetheart," she said sweetly, advancing swiftly towards Jack and grabbing the lapels of his coat as her gaze desperately searched his. "Oh, hold me ransom and return me to my estranged grandparent, if your lust for gold is stronger than your love for me! Strip me naked and tie me to your bed, if you must! (Jack really didn't want to explore that particular alleyway anytime soon.) As long as you're happy—oh, Jackia (he visibly winced. "It's bloody Jack!")—I'll do anything to make you happy!"
"Feel free to start by calling me by my correct name and title, then! And stop insinuating sexual situations!" That was something Will had never thought he'll hear Jack Sparrow say to a woman. Assuming Flavio was of that gender, of course.
"I'll go to the very depths of hell if it pleases you, Jackie," Flavio continued, his—or her, Will really wasn't too certain—captain's correction going unheeded.
"Then please do so."
"Jack, please God tell me that's not my son," the unnamed man spoke up suddenly, staring at the possibly deceased figure of Mr Brown.
Both Jack and Flavio froze, slowly turning to look at the grubby man seated beside them.
"Oh my," Flavio exclaimed, drawing closer to Jack, who in turn was trying to push her as far away as was humanly possible. "Bootie, was your wife a hideous hag? He must have taken from her!"
Will, in his shock at the discovery of his father, dropped the carrot. All three of them stared at the vegetable for a moment, then slowly looked up to see which latest religious fanatic had died and had been appointed as the patron saint of greengrocers. Flavio made a sound of approval, craning her neck so that (to his infinite horror) she could get a better view of Will's breeches. She frowned, dropping back onto her heels, and noted in a stage whisper that sounded oddly like it belonged in a doctor's operating theatre, "There's a very high possibility that the younger Turner is a eunuch; I've yet to discern any visible shapes that prove otherwise."
"I second that notion," Jack agreed, eyebrows raised. "What the blazes are you doing up there, lad?"
"And with a carrot, of all things, son?" Bootstrap interrogated.
Flavio answered immediately: "Isn't it obvious? Clearly, he didn't wish to be disturbed, Jackia; the carrot, Bootie, is for—"
"No, it isn't!" Will yelped, the last syllable turning into a surprisingly feminine screech—for that was when it, the monster under the table, crawled out.
Flavio let out a shriek of surprise, before her—or his—sapphire eyes softened as she looked affectionately at the creature attacking the poor carrot. God, Will felt so sorry for the carrot…
"Oh, it's so adorable!" she exclaimed, and with one swift dive had the beast tucked into the crook of his—her (this was so very confusing)—arm, stroking the beige fur of its back and tickling the black ears. "I didn't know they had these here—I think I'll keep it and name him Baldrick." She nestled her cheek against its head affectionately, cooing over the animal that had haunted Will's nightmares since the age of five.
"That's all very well and good, Flavio, but the rabbit might be Will's," Jack intervened.
"No!" he exclaimed, clinging onto the wooden beam tighter still now that it was out in the open. "That's a stray rabbit! It doesn't belong to anyone! Madam…" Well, she was older than he by at least five years… Assuming she was a "she" and not a "he"… "I fully permit you to keep the demon—I mean, the rabbit."
Flavio smiled radiantly up at him. "You're so sweet!" he exclaimed. "Come down here so I can give you a kiss…" he added in a blatantly suggestive manner that made Bootstrap's hand automatically reach for his sword. That was his son Flavio was talking to! Jack was fine—he never liked him much, anyway—but Will? His boy? His own flesh and blood? …Alright, so he seemed to be a cowardly pansy who lived in constant fear of rabbits, but family was family…
"I think not." The foursome turned to the source of the female voice, eyes falling upon a classical and angelic beauty. The new woman wore a beautiful gown of pale lilac and silver; within her hands was a lace-trimmed parasol, whilst an elegant bonnet adorned her beautifully coiffed hair.
Flavio let out a low whistle, his eyes lingering on Elizabeth's bodice. "I'll bet you're wearing a silk corset," he sighed, shooting Bootstrap a pointed look.
"What?" she asked, caught off guard at the random enquiry. "Well, yes, but I don't see how—"
"See, Bootie! Everybody has it!" Flavio snapped, whilst Elizabeth's brown eyes widened further still as she surveyed the scene she'd walked into in astonishment.
"Will, what on earth are you doing in the rafters?"
"That may be the case, but they're all women!" Bootstrap snapped, ignoring Elizabeth's query completely.
Flavio's eyes widened as though he had just discovered a life-altering truth. "Mi Dio, that's it!" And without further ado he grabbed the shocked Elizabeth's free hand whilst the rabbit named Baldrick remained firmly under his other arm.
"Excuse me, Miss, but might I ask what—"
"We're going shopping!" Flavio interjected, giving the young woman a sly look. "You're rich; I'm beautiful." The three remaining men had to agree with this last statement, much as it pained them to do so; it says something about a man when he calls another male "beautiful"…
"Will!" Elizabeth yelped, unnerved at the strange, overly friendly pirate currently manhandling her, "What in God's name is going on?"
"I do believe you're going shopping," Jack answered, unable to hide his glee at finding a distraction for the Italian in this little port town.
"But I didn't—who are you, to handle the governor's daughter in such a disrespectful manner?"
"You're a woman; so am I." Flavio justified, ignoring all interruptions. Both blondes—for that was the colour of Flavio's eyebrows, a deep gold—ignored the protests from the two remaining pirates that threw this last statement into a shadow of doubt, slamming the door shut. The sound of carriage wheels could be heard moments later, confirming the Italian's kidnapping of the governor's daughter.
"…All right…" Will uttered once he was certain the rabbit wasn't in any position to rip his neck out. Very awkwardly, he climbed down, aware that two sets of eyes were upon him and his burning, both testament to this degrading humiliation. "Will Elizabeth be alright with that… person?" he immediately attacked: the first of many queries.
"What's going on? Who are you? Are you really Mr Brown's father, you look a little young—Jack, you still have that hair?"
Jack's hand once again reached up to comfort the insulted locks. "What is it you Turners have against the hair? The hair is fine! The hair is good! It might not be perfect, but it serves its purpose, alright? So leave the hair alone! It may not be perfect, but then again, what hair is?" There was a pause. "Are we actually having this conversation?"
Bill patted his distressed friend comfortingly on the back. "It's fine Jack, don't you worry about it," he soothed. "We all have the occasional bad hair day—"
"That's perfectly alright for you to say!" Jack exploded. "You're not the one that has to endure stares and whispers wherever you go just because you can't afford regular trips to the hairdresser!"
"Believe me, Jack," Bootstrap said grimly, completely forgetting about his stupefied son for the moment as he continued to comfort his troubled friend, "that's not why they stare at you; the reason why most men stare at you is because they've visited a few choice brothels that you happened to be in the employment of—"
"Bill…"
"Sorry, sorry, so very, very sorry," Bootstrap skirted, leading the distraught captain towards the door. "But it's just hard to forget the numerous times you've been forced into whalebone corsets by a man you've known for less than a year—"
"Bootstrap! You do realize that—"
"I can't help it, Jack!" Bill cried, hands raised in despair. "It's just that whenever I'm with you, I always get squeezed into a corset at least every other time we dock!"
"Bill…"
"Why do you enjoy pretending to whore yourself so much, anyway?" Bootstrap continued. "And by God, the names you come up with! Anna-Flora! Viennetta! Petronella! Is it really any wonder you're the subject of so many unsavoury tales?"
"Bill!" Jack exclaimed with a slap to the man's cheek.
"What?"
"Don't you think we've forgotten something?"
"What do you, we've forgotten something? Flavio's stolen a rabbit and kidnapped that noblewoman, what else did we bring? And that really is a terrible attempt at changing the subject, Jack; really, I thought you, of all people, would be able to—"
"Bill," Jack sighed tiredly, hand resting on the man's shoulder. "Why did we come here?"
"Clearly, to find a mythical treasure hoard," Bootstrap replied, confused.
"And…?"
"…And to murder Flavio whilst making it appear to be a very painful accident?"
"Well, yes, but there's a certain young man, who happens to be a son…" He trailed off, looking hopefully up at the elder man.
"What does the weather have to do with this? There's only one sun, and it is not, as far as am aware, a young ma—shit!"
"Exactly," Jack nodded. "We are here to kidnap your son, at your request, remember?"
"Of course I remember!" he lied. "I was merely… distracted…" An awkward pause descended upon the two men standing under the sign that proclaimed the little shop to be under the management of a Mr J Brown. "So, what do we do now?"
"Well," Jack measured his words carefully, "I s'pose it'll be best if you go back in there and have a long heart to heart with the eunu—the young blacksmith with a questionable amount of testicles—not that I would know!" he added swiftly.
"Of course," Bill agreed whilst wondering if Jack had raped his only child. "And you, lad?"
"Well, naturally, I'll take the opportunity to do the usual, manly, responsible, piratical things that I do in ports."
"I saw a sign near the docks that said a Mr Butcher styles hair of both genders for the price of a three-guinea whore."
"Oh, really? How much?"
"I assume it's three guineas," Bill shrugged.
"That's a bargain!" Sparrow exclaimed, before adding in a decidedly deeper tone, "And it certainly is not one of places I plan to go to do my usual manly, responsible, piratical things that I do in ports."
"And a Mr Foppish deals in hats just next door."
"What's wrong with my hat?"
"Nothing's wrong with your hat," Bill replied hastily.
"Well, why did you suggest I wanted a new one?"
"Because… I naturally assumed that your hat… would get lonely."
There was a pause in which Jack merely stared at the fellow pirate. "…You don't want my hat to get lonely?"
"A hat with a limited social life, Jack, is a terrible thing to behold."
"…Is it really, now?"
"Oh, yes," Bill confidently continued. "They get so used to being the only hat, they simply can't handle social situations which involve other hats. Very shy, unable to stand up for themselves, do you see? You don't want to leave a hat alone, nor deprive it of its friends."
More staring.
"I've written a book all about it; The Emotional Needs of Hats, Bonnets, And Various Other Head Gear."
"You've written a book?"
"Oh, yes; it was a bestseller, you know. Printed and distributed by Mad Hatters Publications."
"…Have you found my opium?"
"It was a big hit with the milliners; I'm quite the celebrity amongst them, I'll have you know."
"Bootstrap, for all our sakes, please don't ever mention that you've published a book on the emotional needs of hats ever again. Now go and corrupt your son."
"Gladly," Turner answered cheerfully, starting towards the shop. He paused mid-stride, and swung back to face Jack. "Which one's my son?"
"I'm sorry?"
"Well, it's just that I've never met my son as a fully-grown adult before; I'm really not sure which of those two men is my son."
"How can you not be sure, when only one of them's within the correct age range?"
"Have you ever seen the aging effects of tobacco before, Sparrow?"
Jack let out a groan of exasperation, hand on his temples. "He's the one that looks like you exactly like you."
"Oh." A beat. "What do I look like?"
"…You look like your son."
"Who looks like…?"
"A virginal eunuch, if you must know."
"I look like a virginal eunuch?"
"No, but… Well… He's the one with the air of innocence and chastity and virginity and honour around him."
"I see."
"Good luck, Turner," Jack told his friend, and hurriedly darted through the crowd before he could be quizzed further on the physiognomy of virginal eunuchs.
Really, how did he come to be associated with these people? Sometimes he felt like the only sane man in the world. And he was certainly the most manly of them all. Well… certainly more mannish than Flavio? Of course! Where was Flavio at this very moment in time? Shopping for silk corsets with a kidnapped Elizabeth Swann. Jack would never go shopping for silk corsets. No, no, he was much too masculine for that.
That's why he was going to the hairdresser that charged as much as a three-guinea whore.
AN: Yup, Will has a bunny phobia, Flavio's still in denial, Bill's written a book on the emotional needs of hats, Norrington's the chairman of BtB, and Jack's taken to walking sideways. Now, the question is: what the hell can I do to Elizabeth? Any ideas? It's good to be back, and I'll try to update as soon as I can.
VagrantCandy: Flavio does know who he is, he's just in denial… There's actually a few serious issues in Flavio's past that's affected who he is today, and there's a few—how should I put it?—aspects of Flavio's character which I'm just dying to explore that really isn't all that fun… Well, it might be for him…
Little Miss Anapants: Cool little tweaking with the name, there. I'm glad that at least SOMEONE has my sense of humour; how was this little chapter? I think the beginning needs a little work, but I wanted to get this up ASAP, so I left it. How's your story going? I'll have to get round to reading it sometime…
TigerTiger02: I'm glad you like Flavio and my Bill, but I have the strangest feeling he won't be like this in the movie; isn't that a shame? And I think I've just discovered how to humiliate Will: bunnies! Now, how am I going to draw this into my other fic? I had this whole idea of Will being a religious fanatic—in a bad way; he makes the Pope look like the antichrist, do you think that would work, or should I just stick to the rabbit thing?
zareen: Thailand was great—I saw a transvestite cabaret, which should help with this story, once you think about it…
Anne le Jordanie: I've put a couple of links on my profile page for your benefit; the first one, IMDb, is pretty good, but don't take everything it says there literally… For example, an actress called Sammi Hanratty is said to play a character called Cora Sparrow, who doesn't actually exist in the script, which means: a) the IMDb staff doesn't bother to verify their info for movies, and b) Pearl is the only Sparrow offspring that actually matters! Sorry, had to get that out… That being said, the site's pretty good for films that have ALREADY been released, so it's a case of two things balancing out… is more reliable, so I recommend you go to that one first…
Anyway; thanks for reading all of my stories. And just a little side note; Flavio isn't gay, he's actually bisexual, as Elizabeth finds out… He just acts really camp, because that's how he wants to act. One of my friends acts pretty camp, but he's perfectly straight… I think…