"What do you mean I can't see him?" Inwë snarled at the guard who stopped her from going to see Norrington. The guard simply shook his head and stood firmly in front of the door.

"I'm his attorney!" she protested. The man raised an eyebrow. The authoress tapped her foot impatiently.

"Ok, I'm not his attorney. I'm his sister. Can I see him now?" The man gave her a look. She let out a long, angry breath and partially closed her eyes.

"Let me in, or I shall be forced to use my insane powers as authoress to make you let me in. Are we clear, or do you need me to demonstrate by sending you to another dimension?"

"Nope. Sorry. No visitors except certified attorneys. And no pets," he added, giving Sirius a disgusted look. The dog growled at him.

"Fine. You leave me no choice." The guard vanished in a puff of black smoke that smelled like…umm…another dimension. Smiling with satisfaction, the Elf kicked the door dramatically and it swung open. She waltzed into the room and glanced around. In the cell farthest from the door sat a very dejected looking Commodore.

"Well, well. What have we here, Twigg? Erm, Sirius," the girl added with a sidelong glanced at the shapeshifter. He let out a short breath rather like a frustrated sigh.

"Never mind the quotes. WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?" she demanded in a loud voice. Norrington winced.

"We just wanted to try and distract you from your obsession," he said meekly.

"We?" The authoress rounded on Sirius, who was innocently looked the other way.

"Raven, Charlie, Sirius, and I decided something had to be done," the Commodore continued. Inwë moaned and rubbed her forehead.

"Bloody pirates."

"Indeed," said a new voice. All three people jumped and whirled.

"Oh seriously not good," Inwë said quickly as she spotted the speaker. Funny how people you have vendettas against always wind up in your fan fiction, isn't it? For, as his pompous tone implied, it was none other than Lord Cutler Beckett. Here the authoress had to pause in her typing to laugh evilly as she thought of the horrible fate awaiting her newest archenemy.

"Well, Miss Elendil," the villainous lord continued, interrupting the authoress's moment of cruel musing, "I see you fell for the trap perfectly."

"Hang on," the authoress replied, "I didn't include a trap in this story! I included my getting Norrington out and the pair of us going back to my place for rum and cookies! This is supposed to be a oneshot."

"Sorry to disappoint you, but your muse has come over to MY side. Haven't you…Arwen?" Now, before anyone freaks out the authoress and her new muse would like to say that this is NOT the same Arwen from Lord of the Rings, but a muse with the actually Welsh name that means, literally, "muse".

Anyways, a thin, straggly looking young woman with lank red hair stepped out from the shadows. She looked rather like a starving wolf: weak, but vicious and desperate.

"Bloody hell! What've you done to my muse? She's…uninspired. How is she ever supposed to recover from this? How am I ever supposed to recover from this?" the authoress spazzed. Beckett grinned at her.

"Your muse is in perfectly good health, she's just a little tired from transferring all her powers and creativity into this." He dangled a pendant on a silver chain in front of Inwë, who recognized it as something she had lured the muse out of her corner with.

"Oi! That's mine!" she snapped, making a grab for it. Beckett easily pulled it out of reach.

"Now, now, Elf, behave yourself. After all, if I wanted I could always delete your character. You see, I now count as the author. I control your muse, I have something of yours that channels your creative powers, and with them comes the ability to change things as I will. For instance." He waved a hand and Inwë found herself in the jail cell next to Norrington. She glared at Arwen, her muse.

"Traitor," she growled.

"Pirate!" the muse replied, smiling.

"I need to stop obsessing. I think it's affecting people." Beckett cleared his throat.

"As I was saying, I'm in control, and since you won't be getting ouuu -!" He was cut off by a cry like a hawk's. Randomly, a huge turkey vulture swooped in, snatched the necklace out of Beckett's hand, and flew off.

"I know that bird!" Inwë said, imitating Jack.

"AFTER IT!" Beckett shrieked shrilly. He and the deserter muse took off, leaving a very disgruntled Norrington and a confused Elf locked in their cells.

"Bloody hell," muttered the authoress. She glanced around.

"Sirius? Where are you?" she hissed loudly. A low whine from the shadows near the door answered her.

"Umm…can you maybe get us out?" Sirius slunk from the darkness and whined again, lifting one paw off the ground suggestively.

"Oh…right…no hands. Ummm -." She was once again cut off by a loud, unfamiliar voice.

"BEWARE THE VOICE OF DOOM!" Everyone jumped and stared around, but there was no one to be seen.

"Who are you?" Inwë asked, this time imitating Barbossa.

"I AM THE VOICE OF DOOM!"

"Yes, we know that one. Anything else?"

"Well…umm…I'm…eh…your Voice of Reason."

"Ah," the Elf said with a nod of recognition, "You're the one who keeps telling me that Beckett cannot suffer a fatal heart attack at his age, aren't ya?"

"Yes. It is my job to make sure you don't make up insane circumstances in your fanfiction."

"Like this?" There was an awkward pause.

"Well…I was just taking a nap, you see…it wasn't my fault your muse went on strike and stole all your powers as authoress which manifest themselves in that necklace." Inwë blinked slowly.

"How did they manage that?"

"Every author has some object that their powers choose as a host. Just your bad luck that you gave yours to your muse without realizing it."

"Former muse, and a deceased one when I'm through with her," the authoress muttered bitterly under her breath, "Sirius, mate, can you run and fetch my pals? Aki knows you're with me and she can alert Shaedan to our misfortunes, savvy?" Norrington stared at her. For once she had used the Jack Sparrow accent all the way through a sentence instead of only during his quotes. She shrugged.

"What? It's International Talk Like a Pirate Day!" Sirius growled softly.

"Huh?" the Elf asked, ignorant of the growl's meaning.

"He says he isn't Lassie, and he doesn't 'fetch' things for anyone," the Voice of Reason replied. Sighing and murmuring about "insane circumstances", the Elf glared at the dog.

"Please, mate. You'd hate to see me hang, wouldn't ya?" Sirius stared back at her hollowly, then he too sighed and got up to leave.

"Good doggie," Inwë said a little too loudly. He growled again.

"I didn't mean it!"