CHAPTER VII - Arrival In Neverland
childish pout PLEASE REVIEW!
Back to Elsa and Peter now, and all six of them are coming in to land. A transitional chapter, nothing too serious - well, after that last chapter, I thought you all deserved a break.
You will by now have realised that this fanfic takes place as though Hook had never been devoured by the crocodile, and the Lost Boys had not found a home with the Darlings. That, for the record, is how I though the story should have turned out (being a Hook fan ;) ). It is also quite convient for this story! Oh, and Tink is not dead, unlike in the book - that is just too sad, much as she annoys me.
This chapter is dedicated to my cousins.
Enjoy!
You may have thought that Elsa wouldn't just have flown out of her bedroom window with a boy that claimed he never aged without some doubt. And you would have been partly true - if Elsa had still been living with her parents.
For Elsa had developed, in the most crude fashion acceptable, a "sixth sense" - a sense that told her whether she was near her parents. She had been unaware of it - until now. This sense is part of the few bits of magic still remaining on Earth. When a child is taken from their parents, and if they want to find them badly enough, their heart begins to piece together what they want most with what they can remember, until the sense that tells them that something or someone is connected with their parents emerges. All children have the potential to form this sense, but not everyone loses their parents, which is a thankful occurence.
And so, Elsa had felt this sense telling her that Peter Pan, already a link to her childhood, was part of the key to her history too. So all doubt, fear and whatever else had disappeared when she had flown out into the night.
- - -
"Did all of that really happen?" asked Elsa shakily. She was most certain that this wasn't a dream any more.
"Yep," answered Peter, concentrating on the route ahead. "And now -" he paused dramatically - "We're in Neverland!"
They broke through a covering of clouds onto a fabulous scene. The island floated in the centre of a sapphire-blue ocean. The green hills, emerald jungle and pink-white clouds swirled together in a fabulous mix of colour. It all looked so lush and alive that Elsa was totally speechless.
Everything that might have felt odd or unreal - the flying, the fact she was in pyjamas, the feeling that leaving home with this strange boy and his pixie was right - simply melted away. This was like - like coming home.
"Neverland…" The name sounded wonderful when Elsa said it.
"Mmm-hmm," mumbled Peter as a means of response, his vivid eyes searching the jungle ahead. Tinkerbell squealed with delight and dashed off ahead; her flitting, light-enhanced figure darted this way and that until it hurt Elsa's eyes to attempt to follow her. Instead, Elsa dropped her gaze to the gently sighing sea below; the water was a brilliant, sparkling blue, darkening to the right in what could be a lagoon; to the left, and farther out to sea, was a great, black ship. Elsa regarded it with some interest, wondering who or what lived on it.
"Come on!" called Peter suddenly, and he went into a steep dive. Elsa began a feeble process, chanced a worried look at the three cats, and followed. Her stomach turned and she considered for a moment whether she might be sick.
"Peter!" she yelled, desperately trying to keep up with the lithe green figure speeding off. "Oh for - "
"Into the clearing!" shouted Peter excitedly, pointing at a patch of land free of shrubbery ahead. Elsa stopped her complaining and followed as best she could.
As she flew (and even that thought alone was thrilling), Elsa cast her mind back. Was it only yesterday (she supposed it had been yesterday: she had left on Friday night, and now it was morning) that she had sat in Maths, French, History and other ordinary lessons and fretted over the ever-nearing Chemistry coursework deadline? Was it really the maximum of twelve hours ago that she had attacked her hair in front of the mirror, sighing about Assembly and Prefect duty?
"Coming in to laaaaaaand!"
"WHOA!" exclaimed Elsa, pirouetting untidily in the air and hitting the ground with a thud. The three cats mewed and scrambled for pawholds, Captain getting tangled in his harness and growling in his throat. Elsa freed him, checked all of them were alive and uninjured, and looked around at Peter, who was standing, hands on hips, looking very pleased with himself indeed.
"Welcome to Neverland!" he announced importantly. And now - to meet the Lost Boys!"
"Lost - " began Elsa questioningly, but her enquiry was quelled by the distant shouts and arguments of what sounded like a pack of chimpanzees. She tried to gauge where the sound was coming from; but there was no need, for suddenly, a bundle of dirt-smudged, ruffian-like boys came spilling from holes in the tree trunks bordering the clearing. Elsa was too surprised to say anything.
"Who-?"
"What-?"
"Peter-!"
"Hullo Tink!"
The excited voices rose to make a chorus of undisciplined noise. Peter, glancing quickly at Elsa to make sure sh was looking, drew himself up and barked, "Boys!"
The group of children fell hastily into line, as silent as the clouds in the sky. Peter patrolled down the line, imagining himself to be very important. Tinkerbell watched from a nearby tree branch, kicking her legs restlessly. The cats, alarmed by the noise, attempted to clamber up the tree too, but Elsa gripped their leads and hoped they would cease struggling.
"Now," began Peter in the voice of one very much in charge, "this, boys, is Elsa."
A buzz of excitement rose immediately, and Peter stepped forward. The boys stopped chattering and settled for pointing and staring instead.
"Like Wendy, and Jane, and Margaret, and all the others, she has come -"Peter paused significantly, "to be our mother!"
"I remember mothers!" cried one of the boys immediately; he had a snub nose and dark, messy hair.
"Me too!" agreed two identical boys - twins, of course.
Peter was about to reprimand them, then thought better of it. Instead, he looked at Elsa - and was shocked to see the horror on her face.
"Mother?" she asked, bewildered. "But - but, I'm fifteen!"
This revelation seemed to have absolutely no effect on Peter or the boys at all. Peter simply smiled in a vacant, happy sort of way, whilst the boys spilled around her. Then Elsa was too preoccupied with greetings and introductions and preventing her cats being crushed to argue further.
"I'm Slightly," said the boy with the snub nose grandly. "Hello," said Elsa, shaking his muddy hand.
"Tootles," said a chubby, bashful-looking boy shyly. Elsa instantly liked him, and gave him a warm smile. He grinned back.
"Curly," said a bright, blonde boy.
"The Twins," chorused the identical brothers, bowing in a fashion that prompted Elsa to say, "How sweet!"
"She speaks like Jane!" squeaked Curly, and the boys pressed in on her even more.
Peter, meanwhile, was feeling most self-satisfied, and stood watching the scene. Tinkerbell flew down to his shoulder, and jingled.
"Adventures, Peter?" she asked knowingly, a smile on her face.
"Oh, yes," he said aloud. "Many."
Elsa was now being subjected to curious pokes from the boys - or the Lost Boys, as she now knew they were known as collectively.
"What are you wearing?" asked Slightly, rather bluntly, as he pulled at her pyjama top.
"It's - they're called pyjamas," replied Elsa, stepping out of reach. "Don't you know what pyjamas are?"
"Padanas…" echoed Slightly thoughtfully. "No, I have never heard of - padanas before." He blushed, ashamed at having discovered something he didn't know.
"Ooh!" squealed Curly, leaping backwards. Elsa turned and saw a bleeding scratch on his leg, and then saw Captain with his claws out, obviously having just gashed the inquisitive stranger.
"Are you all right?" she asked in worry, bending to calm the cats yet addressing Curly.
"Yeah," said Curly evasively, "I got hurt a lot worser than this."
"You have?"
"Yeah," answered Curly, with a touch of pride, "when I fight the pirates."
There was silence as the boys regarded Elsa. She looked up slowly. "P- pirates?" They must be joking, she thought.
The boys fell back reverently as Peter strode forwards. "Yes," he said, mock-gravely, "Pirates."
Elsa gasped. What followed next seemed both beautifully rehearsed and designed to terrify anyone unused to talk of pirates.
"Cecco -"
"Wrote his name in blood on the back of a gaoler!" butted in Slightly.
"Bill Jukes -"
"Every inch of him tattooed!" cried Tootles, shuddering.
"Cookson -"
"Black Murphy's brother," intoned the Twins darkly.
"Gentleman Starkey, Alf Mason, Noodler," recited Peter, getting faster. "Weasel, Master Jukes, Rummy, Smee -"
He stopped. The Lost Boys inhaled obligingly.
"Hook!" cried Peter.
"Hook!" exclaimed Elsa, snatching her cats to her chest. "Who's he?"
"He is their Captain. The only man the Sea Cook ever feared. Blackbeard's bos'un. Captain James Hook, terror of the Spanish Main, a fearsome pirate with a hook instead of a right hand!"cried Peter theatrically, obviously relishing the moment. "And I am his arch enemy!"
He sprang into the air, crowing like a cockerel. Elsa watched in astonishment.
"Really?" she asked breathlessly. Peter stopped crowing and landed, looking slightly put out.
"Yes, really," he answered snappishly. Regaining his boastful composure, he continued, "And we, the Lost Boys, fight the pirates every day! We kill tons!"
"Loads an' loads!" Slightly piped up.
"Really?" This time, Elsa was more shocked that anything. "You - you kill? But - but you're little boys!"
Peter scowled. "Doesn't mean we can't kill pirates," he muttered moodily.
Tootles, in a flash of inspiration, decided to lighten the tense atmosphere. "What are they?" he asked politely, pointing at the cats. Elsa looked at him, pitying his lack of intelligence.
"They're called cats," she explained. "Like - like - oh, I don't know…mini tigers."
Recognition crossed Tootles' rounded face, and he smiled. "Tigers! We have tigers here! Can they roar?" he inquired, waving a hand at the cats.
"Well - no, no, but they - they meow," continued Elsa. The blank look on the boys' faces prompted her to do something she would never have done ordinarily. "Like this," she said, and meowed.
"Wow!" shouted the boys, and began meowing in earnest.
"What are their names?" interrupted Slightly.
"Celestria, Maelstrom and Captain," informed Elsa, pointing at each in turn.
"Oh," remarked Slightly, and turned away again, distracted by a butterfly. Elsa felt disappointed: she had thought them to be desirable, amusing names. Obviously these boys were uneducated.
An awkward silence descended again. The boys stared at the cats or at Elsa, who looked to Peter for guidance. But he was conversing silently with Tinkerbell again, and paid his guest no heed.
"Well - what are we going to do?" asked Elsa.
Peter looked up and dashed forwards. "I think we should get you some new clothes," he said seriously, "because I have never heard of - of -"
"Padanas," offered Slightly.
"Yes, that, and so they can't exist," stated Peter, as though he had been stating that water will turn into ice if frozen. Elsa gawped, not sure how to reply.
"But where will we get girls clothes?" asked Slightly.
"Where we got all the others," replied Peter, "in the trees!"
He pointed upwards. Elsa followed his finger, almost expecting to see a wardrobe floating among the branches. But all she could see were -
"Leaves?"
"Yep!" said Peter, indicating his own attire.
"I can't wear leaves!" cried Elsa, horrified. "That's - savagery!"
"What?" asked Peter sharply.
"It's - oh, don't worry. I'm - er - I just -" Elsa broke off, then decided to act humbly, in order to try and win Peter round. "I've never worn leaves before. I might tear them - and that wouldn't be good, would it?"
"No, I suppose you're right," answered Peter thoughtfully. The Twins bounded forwards and Peter bent to listen to them. They whispered in his ears, and suddenly he straightened up, looking delighted.
"I know!" he cried, "I've had a brilliant thought! We shall take you to the Indian camp! You can wear their clothes!"
Elsa opened her mouth to argue that wearing Indian clothing was almost as bad as wearing leaves, but then thought of something else.
"Indians?" she asked incredulously. "As in -"
"Yes!" cried the Lost Boys, and they began to dance and whoop like the stereotypical Red Indians you might see in a Western. Elsa giggled. This was odd, certainly, but by no means unpleasant.
"All right then!" she agreed enthusiastically, replacing her cats on the ground. "Let's go!"
"We're not walking," said Peter disdainfully. "Well - they are," he added, pointing at the boys. "We're flying. Come on!"
Elsa thought. "I can't fly with the cats again," she said slowly. "They hate it."
Tootles glanced at his companions, then shuffled forwards. "I can take them, if you want…Elsa," he said shyly.
Elsa was about to dispute, when she realised how much Tootles wanted to see the cats and interact with them. She handed him the leads. "Hold them tight," she ordered kindly, "and don't let them run off!"
"I won't," he promised gallantly.
Elsa grinned properly for the first time and rose into the air to join an already-waiting Peter and Tinkerbell.
squee REVIEW! PLEEEEASE! JUST A COUPLE OF WORDS!