Authors Note:
Warning! If you have NOT SEEN PIRATES 3 yet, don't continue reading this section!
So I had the pleasure of seeing Pirates 3 at the theater last night. I have to say, I'm a bit more fond of the third one than the second one... But all of us Willabethers are semi-pleased, semi-hurt at the ending. Sure, they were married, but now look at what the couple has to deal with: Will not really being alive, not truely being dead, Will only being allowed on land every 10 years, and Elizabeth - well, whats she going to do now? I suppose this would qualify for a bitter-sweet ending. wouldnt you say? lets hear your opinions.
(oh! and might I just point out that if Jack would have just stabbed the heart before Davey Jones ran Will through then they wouldnt have been in that mess in the first place!... hmmm, do I feel a fanfiction coming on? williz perhaps wink)
-InnerSmile
Four days….it had been a four day journey but they had finally made it. What 'it' was, was a flea infested camp, a ruin of a fortress, built by the English upon their settling the area. Now it was a slovenly group of tents, old camp fires, overused blankets and clothes – tied up or hung on trees for makeshift beds, a gathering of old soldiers and new recruits, a melting pot of sooty faces and foul smells. It was a days ride from the coast and the air was stagnant, being blocked by the nearby woods and low-lying position.
As the men rode in, all the eyes were on them – looking them up and down on their tall steeds. Will's eyes met theirs at first until he realized how squalid their gaze really was. He gripped the reins a bit tighter, trying to remind himself to continue sitting up straight – not to let his shoulders slouch. He was tired and sore from riding for so long. His stomach burned of hunger and all he wanted was a cold drink and a soft bed. He knew he wouldn't be getting neither of these things here. All of a sudden the line of horses stopped. The jolt of the dead body before him caught his eye once more and he turned away – eager for the corpse to finally leave his sight. He immediately felt guilty of thinking such a thing – that the corpse was the body of a young man – his age – whose life was torn from him. Will hung his head and glanced up again to see two soldiers who had come from one of the tents, take the stiff body at either end and haul it off to the other side of a nearby cove of trees. Will strained to see where they went but the mess of tents covered them from view. He was soon pulled from his thoughts by someone grabbing him by his cuff very violently.
"You!" Will looked down to see an officer of some sort, taking him by the arm, pulling him off his horse. "You, what's your name?"
Taken quite off guard, and still woozy from lack of sleep, Will answered after allowing a moment to regain who he was speaking to. "Turner…sir."
Suddenly Will got a flash in his mind, of him lying on the deck, his head swimming and his clothes sopping wet, and upon opening his eyes he saw an angel:
"It's okay. My names Elizabeth Swann"
"W-W-Will Turner…"
"I'm watching over you, Will."
The man looked him up and down quite skeptically. "Turner, right…" He saw the old bullet holes in his soiled jacket, blood stained and dirty. "You're not wounded are you?
"No sir."
"Good. Too many damned patched up soldiers in this camp already." He paused a moment, perhaps expecting Will to say something or make a move. "Well go on then! Take these damn animals and have them cleaned up. Don't just stand there!"
Will saw he was referring to the four horses that were now standing alone beside him. He glanced behind him to see the General and the other men go into a near by tent – one much more well kept than the others, with a proper curtain doorway.
"Y-Yes sir." He managed to get out. He took the reins in his hands and started to lead them away from the officer and the other dirt-less dwellings, not sure where he should be taking the horses.
Oi! You, over here." Will looked and saw an older man, perhaps in his fifties, motioning him to over to his tent.
Will looked around, making sure it was him he was talking to, and did as he was told. As he approached he saw that the man was wearing a waist apron and to the side of his tent was a makeshift forgery. This was the local blacksmith!
"Aye, that's right. Bring 'em this way. Tie 'em up to those trees over there."
Again, Will did as he was told. He tied up the horses and began to undo the harness and saddles when the man came up to him and started on another.
"New here I'm guessin'…"
Will let out a laugh. "Is it obvious?"
"Eh, you're better than most of the new recruits. I've seen a few of 'em come through here, still waiting for the mum to comfort 'em and sing 'em to sleep at night. You at least seem to have your wits about you."
Will looked at the older man. The dirt was ingrained into the lines on his face, his hair was thinning and his skin was almost grey. Was he fifty? Or was he sixty? The grime and filth had aged him beyond recognition. But his face was truthful, something about the tone of his voice was comforting…almost melodious. "Well, to be honest. I'm not really a recruit… I left my family as an ultimatum and I intend to return to them as soon as I have the chance. I'm not staying here long." He said with a glance around him.
The man shook his head thoughtfully. "Tis a shame what this wars come to: family men leaving their families to take men away from their families in return…shameful."
"I agree." Will replied with a solemn tinge in his voice.
"But at least you're an Englishman. The Scots are flooding us. When I saw you and your men arrive, I was relieved to see those red coats."
"I didn't know there were so many Scotsmen here."
"Oh Aye, about 700 of them, the last I heard. Theres only 800 of us, and they'll be the majority if we don't watch ourselves." He said with a quick snort of his nose.
"Why so many Scots?" Will asked in slight confusion.
"Ah, well it's the Brigadier General, ya see. The old mans got us all marching to Cape Fear in the mornin' and the Scottish are here to join up with the Loyalist regulars in Wilmington. Once we get there, we'll all go our separate ways – with our battalions and whatnot."
Will nodded, realizing again that these men had been hardened by this war, used to its ebbs and flows, like a sailor roughened by the rocking seas. "At dawn then, I'm assuming."
The old man laughed. "Catch on quick, don't you? Aye, at dawn…it's a good days journey to Cape Fear, shouldn't be any harder than what you just got done with."
After a moment of silence between the two blacksmiths, and all the undressing was done on the horses, Will noticed how tired he really was. His hands weren't moving as fast as he wanted them to and he was more than aware that his mind was working at a dawdingly heavy speed as well. For the past three nights they had rode until nightfall, tied their horses and lay down for the night, but always in a low ditch, or valley out of sight, and never with a fire, for they didn't want to draw attention to themselves. He was aching; not only from riding but from the cold, hard ground he had made his bed the last few nights. The cold, November wind didn't make much of a comfort either. "Say, is there somewhere I could maybe get some food? Sleep perhaps, later?"
The old man nodded. "I know where you can get some food. But you'll learn to value sleep a bit more the longer you stay." He said with a wink in his eye.
"Why do you say that?"
"The new ones always carry the night-watch responsibilities" He said, almost with a slight laugh behind his gruff voice.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
"Katy! Come down, dinner is ready!"
The little girl came bounding down the stairs in a rush of excitement.
"Hey now, no running in the house, remember?" Her mother chided her gently.
"Yes Mama." She said after taking a few steps to slow herself. "Mama, can we make sweet biscuits after dinner?"
Liz smiled down at her daughter while she continued to stir the pot of hot soup. "And who would be eating all these sweet biscuits?"
"You and I, and Papa when he comes back home!" Her tone was so innocent, so utterly honest that Elizabeth couldn't help but bit her lip in holding back her emotions.
She sat the wooden spoon down and faced Katy who was wide-eyed, seeing that her mother was going to say something. Liz sighed and clasped her hands together in thought. "Darling, I don't know when Papa is coming back. He may be gone for quite some time…And truly, love, I don't think our sweet biscuits will be able to keep until he returns."
"But…he is coming back, isn't he?"
"Of course, darling! You're father wouldn't dream of leaving us. He's coming back. He just as to take care of a few things first."
Katy nodded, satisfied with the answer and her mothers consoling. Then, with her four year old's sense of wonderment she came up with her solution. "Then when he comes back home, we make him all the sweet biscuits he wants, right Mama?"
Elizabeth laughed and brushed her daughter's hair with the tip of her fingers. "Right... Now, did you wash?"
Katy nodded ardently.
"Let me see your hands."
The little girl blushed then hid her hands behind her back with her father's coy grin on her little features.
Elizabeth gave her a questioning, skeptical glance and that's all it took for the little Turner to surrender and give in.
"Hmm…not in the least bit clean, Katherine."
Katy looked down, remorsefully, and expecting a reprimanding from her mother. Instead Elizabeth took her by the shoulders and turned her around, facing the other way. "Now how about you wash again…properly, then you may come back and get your supper."
The little girl scampered away, giggling as she left the kitchen, glad she could have another reason to put her energy to use. Just as Katy was leaving, the back door opened and Lucy stepped into the kitchen, her hands full of firewood for the stove.
"Well it sure is getting a bit colder out there. Nothing like the winter yet but the wind is picking up."
"I know… I wonder if Will is cold where he is…"
Both of the women paused at what they were doing and looked at each other for a brief moment. Liz put down her spoon again and wiped her hands on her apron. Lucy placed the wood with the pile in the corner of the room, then turned to face her friend with a deep breath. Both of them joined at the table.
"Have you any word from him yet?" Lucy asked after a second.
Elizabeth shook her head. Then she rested her hand on her swollen middle, attempting to calm the child that was so exertive. "No, nothing…You?"
"Yes, I received one yesterday. It was written a week ago as far as I could tell from the date. It was short, he said he was rushed – of course he apologized for his abruptness, but all it really said was that he loved me, missed Tristan and I, and that they were moving south. He also briefly mentioned something about marching towards the coast, making some sort of blockade, but that was all."
Elizabeth gave her a weak smile. Yes, it was true that Nathan had been gone longer – but it was now almost five days and she still had no word from Will. Everyday Katy would ask where he was or when he was coming home, and she had no answers. No answers at all.
"Don't worry Lizzy" Her friend said, as if she could almost read her thoughts. She put her hand on top of hers that was resting on the table top. "I'm sure hes very busy. And who knows – he may have sent word already and it just hasn't arrived yet."
It was little consolation, but it was better than nothing. Lucy's smile and reassurance immediately picked her spirits up – even if it was slightly. "You're right, nothing to worry about."
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
"What's wrong wiv ya?"
Will felt himself being slightly lifted from his sitting position, and then thrown back into the tree that he was leaning on just a moment before. "What?"
"Don't "What" me soldier, stand at attention!"
Will jumped to his feet, his head spinning from its thorough lashing against the tree.
"You feel asleep soldier! What do you have to say for yourself? Hmm? You fell asleep while on watch. Well…what do you have to say?"
Will stood, looking around him, noticing the sun was just about to make an appearance above the horizon…it was almost dawn. "I-"
He started, but was cut off by the very agitated, and very fast talking officer in front of him, the same one that had grabbed at his arm, and barked orders at him yesterday. "You what? Get ready to move out. Let's see if you can at least do that right. We leave within the hour."
Once the officer, and a few of his lackeys moved away and down their path, Will could see the camp in full view from where he was. The light was a dark grey, almost blue color and the men were bustling about. Tents that had been in the same spot of weeks or months were now in little bundles on the backs of the soldiers. The blacksmith shop where the old man was, was now just a remnant of a few lone-standing posts and a loaded up cart. This little city of 1,500 men was now being relocated. He heard shouts coming from the hill on the east side of the camp, it seemed to be where most of the men were going. Will didn't have any belongings…just a blanket that one of the soldiers had so generously let him borrow, and a rifle they had loaned him to keep watch with. He took his blanket and rolled it up as tightly as he could, then took the piece of rope it had come in then tied and knotted it. Then after slinging his rifle, powder horn and bullet case over his shoulder, he took off towards the edge of the camp to line up with the rest of them. Soon, as he began to approach the hill, he passed the same area of woods where he saw the men take the dead body a day earlier. Out of curiousity, Will began to meander his way towards the edge of the forest. He was greeted with one of the most foul odors he had ever encountered in his life, never mind Jack's quarters on the Pearl. What he saw was a ditch, dug about six feet deep and 10 feet wide, filled with bodies in all degrees of decomposition. Five or six men, with shovels in hand, were in the process of filling in the gutter of bodies. Just to the edge of the pile, Will caught a glimpse of the blanketed body, the one he had followed those so many miles to this camp, the one that had practically fallen into his arms, still half breathing – half gasping for life. But before his thoughts could go any further he was covered with a pile of dirt, tossed on him by one of the morbid soldiers. Will quickly turned away and briskly walked from the wood to the clearing where the rest of the men were gathering. He looked down at his sodden and tattered jacket. The jacket of the dead man, with his blood still visible from the old bullet wounds…surely he would not share the same fate.
As Will saw the men lining up in their formation to march, he hurriedly got behind one of the soldiers, as to not be out of place. The young man who was in front of him turned, and Will recognized him as Thomas, the one who had befriended them back in New Bern for those few months. Thomas didn't say anything, they merely smiled at each other – a reassuring gesture, a connection between the two men. Then another face caught Will's attention. The General walked by, glanced at Will, but nothing more, then he kept his gaze forward as he walked down the row of men.
"Gentlemen!"
Will now looked to the man just behind General Graham, to a man much older, much more seasoned looking in the art of military. This must be Brigadier General MacDonald, he concluded.
"We're moving out today. As we venture towards the coast to join our brothers in the fight, keep an eye open wherever you are, never let your guard down, and always have your rifles ready. Its only a days journey to Cape Fear but we're heading into dangerous territory…" Then, he paused, in the way old men do when they're thinking of what next to say, or where they put their eye glasses. After a second of silence he cleared his throat and directed his horse east, he waved his arm forward – signaling the soldiers to march in accord with him. "These damned rebels won't get the best of us, eh lads?"
The group of 1,500 soldiers raised their voices in a hurrah, and made their way due east, towards the Atlantic coast, towards the sea, towards something that was at least halfway familiar to Will in this tumultuous place. He decided that he would write Elizabeth the first chance he had. Then the thought occurred to him: I wonder where Nathan is now?