To Number Girl: first, I think you've missed the eventual paring of that story... Now you see with who Norrington will end up? Sorry if you don't like it... not sorry if it's alright... but if you don't like it, it won't happen before quite some time, like the end of the first movie or something. You can still read it so far, I suppose.
As for teleportation... Will can go anywhere he can see, but the thing is that if it's too far away, he might have miscalculated the distances... He needs to see, and not only imagine, where he'll put his feet, if that makes sense. If not, he might end up with his feet a few inches above the actual ground, or even in the ground, etc... same things with walls and other things that could get in the way.
Chapter 12: Parting gift
Will the younger and Elizabeth ran into the forge, laughing at their last adventure. Will the older looked up from his work, and smiled at the children. The boy was completely soaked in salted water, but he still had a big grin on his face.
"How was the water?"
His younger self's grin turned into a half-hearted scowl.
"Elizabeth pushed me in the sea, but she won't admit it!"
Will arched an eyebrow at the kids, while the girl sent a resentful glance at the boy.
"I did not. You fell on your own."
The blacksmith sighed, and put down his hammer. His work was finished anyway.
Will was about to say something, but the gesture had caught the attention of his other self, who stared curiously at the beautiful sword his "big brother" had been making.
William's face fell as he recognized it.
"So it's done?"
Will the older smiled faintly, knowing very well why his younger self wasn't really happy with the fact. Knowing did nothing to make him change his mind, of course. He had to go and talk to Tia Dalma, no matter how much he wished to stay with the child. The blacksmith just had no idea of what his being in the past might lead to, and he didn't wish to learn it the hard way.
"It's done."
He put the sword with the two other special weapons he had been making as gifts for those who had helped him lately. One was for James, another for the captain Portwell, and the last one... Well, Jack hadn't exactly helped him lately, in fact he didn't even know who Will was, but the former captain of the Flying Dutchman was here thanks to the pirate. Without Jack, he'd be dead-dead, and not undead / immortal / kind-of-whatever-he-was. He owed him that sword, if anything.
Even more so that since Jack had already lost the Black Pearl, the odds were high that the pirate was more or less as broke as when they had met / would meet / anyway each other in his past timeline. Only remembering about the good-for-nothing cutlass Jack had been using at the time made Will cringe in disgust.
Elizabeth reached to touch the sword, but Will the younger got in the way. The boy lived in a smithy, and he knew not to touch at the sharp and shiny things. Will and Mr Brown had been more than precise as to what could happen if they found him playing with the blades...
Seeing the girl's startled face, the child blushed and muttered something about it not being safe, before turning back to his "big brother".
"Do you really have to leave?"
The grown man sighed and passed his left hand in his long hair. Then he crouched to be able to look the boy in the eyes.
"We've talked about that before, William. I'll be back in less than a year, I promise."
The blacksmith knew it wasn't a convincing point, if only because to his younger self, six or seven months would possibly feel like years to him. But he couldn't promise better. After all, the trips between the islands he intended to go to wouldn't just make themselves less lengthy even if he asked for it to happen. He also feared what his continued presence next to his younger self could provoke in the child's personality. He was quite proud of who he had become, and while he didn't want his other self to know the hardships he had encountered, he had the nagging feeling he'd just spoil the kid rotten.
And if there was one thing Will didn't want to be the cause of, it was turning himself into a jerk.
Not that he believed it might happen, but still.
The boy grunted something rude, and ran off to their room. Will and Elizabeth looked at him before sharing a smirk.
The girl then stared in the direction her friend had taken, confident in her analysis of the situation.
"He'll come out for dinner."
Will raised an eyebrow, but didn't deny it.
"And how would you know that?"
Elizabeth then eyed him rather disbelievingly. She frowned a bit, as if trying to decide whether the blacksmith was being serious or not, and apparently coming to the conclusion that he indeed was, she answered his question.
"He's a boy. Boys always come for dinner. It's in their nature."
Will stiffled a laugh at that. He was quite certain she was right about the nature of boys in general.
She then added, not looking at him no matter how much she wanted to. Elizabeth knew she was being jealous for nothing, but her friend really liked the adult, and she had already guessed her free time with Will would soon be cut short. It had been twice that week that she had heard comments about how improper it was for her to play with a blacksmith's brother, and the girl was far from stupid. When the gossip would get to her father, he'd make sure she had enough things to occupy her time without having to actually have time for a friend.
The more time Will spent with Wilhem, the less she could spend with her friend.
But Elizabeth was a Miss, though a child, and she had been brought up well enough not to let her jealousy be seen. It would have been unbecoming.
"Besides, Will wouldn't bear it if he couldn't see you once more before you left."
Something in her tone must have been less hidden than she thought, because the blacksmith's smile faltered a bit as he caught her gaze. She flushed a bit, but didn't look away.
Will sighed again, and turned back to the swords. He had to get two of them to their future owners before leaving, but they weren't the only gifts he had to give in Port Royal. He shut the wooden boxes closed, not willing to see any child lose their fingers to the sharp edges, just in case. Then he searched for another box, that had been pushed back under the workbench when his younger self had run into it a few minutes prior.
Elizabeth watched curiously as the blacksmith took three of the four boxes with him. Will hadn't told her what Carter meant to do with those swords he was making, but she guessed he was going to deliver them. No, what interested her was what he was going to do with the other box.
It was small, so small there surely wasn't any kind of blade in it, except maybe a razor or something like that. Not even a dagger would fit in it. So what was it?
The girl suddenly registered Carter was looking at her as if waiting for her to do or say something.
"Your father will be expecting you, Miss Swann."
Oh. How silly of her. She had forgotten she had to get home.
Really careless, if she might think so. Especially considering she was trying not to make it too obvious she was spending time with a blacksmith's apprentice. She had figured keeping herself from being late or arriving home disheveled, not that she ever was, mind you, could be a way to delay her father's notice of any friendship improper of Elizabeth Swann's status, and so, getting her a bit more time with Will.
Meaning, she'd better not forget about this kind of things anymore.
"Yes, of course."
They walked up to the governor's mansion, as they always did, since it wasn't really cautious of her to just walk around the city alone. Wilhem Carter had offered to accompany her back for the first time three weeks ago, and she hadn't said no. The girl was quite sure even that wouldn't stop her father from having a fit if he learned how she was sneaking out every time she could do so, but maybe it could lessen the extent of said hypothetical fit.
When they got in sight of the mansion, Elizabeth was surprised by the blacksmith actually giving her the wooden box as a parting gift. She hadn't expected to be given anything at all.
The girl had to refrain from opening the box right now right here. She really had to go.
"Thank you, sir."
The blacksmith almost looked shocked at the way she adressed him, but there was a glint of mirth in his eyes.
"Well, go, then. And don't worry, it's only a little silver pendant. You can even put it on a bracelet if you don't want to wear it as a necklace."
Elizabeth wondered why Carter had gone so far as to give her a silver pendant that he had most surely made himself, but she reminded herself that it wouldn't do to be late, so she rushed to the mansion. She really wanted to know what shape the pendant was, but if she didn't get ready she'd be late for dinner. And that was totally not going to happen...
Will watched as the girl went back home, a nostalgic smile on his face. He had copied a pendant he had found on the Dutchman and given to Elizabeth for the twentieth year of their wedding. In other words, the third day he had seen her since they had been wed.
After a few minutes, he shook himself out of the memory, and walked to the fort. He knew that Portwell and James had returned with the Dauntless only this morning. It was better than he had expected. He wouldn't have to wait for their return before leaving Port Royal.
The blacksmith waited not far from the entrance of the fort, hoping one of the two officers would walk out before long. He wasn't sure what to say to the guards if they didn't. He certainly didn't have an official reason for being here. Eventually he drifted off and back into memory land. It happened, sometimes.
Fortunately, Charles Portwell spotted him sitting against a wall with his two wooden boxes, lost in his thougths, as he was leaving the fort. The Navy captain frowned, and walked over to Wilhem Carter.
"Are you waiting for the lieutenant, perhaps?"
Will was once again startled out of his thoughts, and he jumped on his feet with an agility that surprised the Navy man quite a bit.
"Captain Portwell! No, actually, I wanted to see you... and James too, I admit it. The point being, I am leaving Port Royal for Tor... for now, and I made these as a mean to thank you to for... finding me back then."
Will was aware he was starting to ramble a bit, so he simply opened the box meant for the captain, just to keep himself from saying something stupid. He really ought not to drift off so easily. He didn't want to slip and let a Navy captain hear he was heading to Tortuga as he had almost done just now, or worse, to say something he wasn't supposed to know because it had not happened yet. It would simply not do, if that happened.
Portwell eyed him curiously for a moment, but soon enough his attention was taken by the splendid short sword in the box.
The hilt was golden and striated with blue lines, though the captain had absolutely no idea how it could be done. The blade was a bit longer than that of a normal short sword, he mused, pleased that the blacksmith had noticed his actual sword was just this way too; somehow, Charles Portwell could fight better with such a blade. Finally, the Navy Captain saw his initials in the metal.
He looked up with surprise at the blacksmith who was handing him the box.
"I... Well, I must say I am surprised, Mr Carter. I'll try to use this fine work of art for the best causes. It would be a shame if it fell between the wrong hands."
Carter winced slightly at what Portwell had just implied.
"Yes, captain, please do try not to be killed by a ruffian any time soon."
It was sadly a possibility, in the captain's line of work, both of them thought sourly.
Portwell accepted the sword, still marveling at the unexpected gift and at the fact that the blacksmith the Dauntless had rescued actually had the means to offer such an expensive gift to someone he barely knew.
"The lieutenant Norrington is still occupied with... paperwork. I don't think he has left the fort yet. I'll fetch him, if that's alright with you, Mr Carter?"
Charles Portwell was pretty certain the blacksmith had been about to retort, something along the lines of "don't bother...", unless it was more something like "you shouldn't...", but the captain left him no such chance and walked back to the fort before anything could be said. With the magnificent sword he had just gotten from Wilhem Carter for nothing more than getting him from a cay in the middle of the Carribeans, fetching James Norrington was the least he could do. Even more so considering the lieutenant was likely to be getting a sword just as splendid as his own.
Charles Portwell wasn't stupid, and he certainly wasn't deaf nor blind. He had seen the growing friendship between the blacksmith and his lieutenant, and even if it had surprised him, he saw no reason to warn off Norrington. On the contrary, the lieutenant seemed to relax a bit more since he had started talking with Wilhem Carter, and it could only be for the better. Even if he worked for the Navy, the captain Portwell was well known for his good and benevolent personality. The over-stuck-up James Norrington still succeeded in getting on his nerves from time to time.
Portwell reached his lieutenant's office, and was not surprised to see the young man still glaring at the files on his desk as if they had offended him personally. The Navy officer's hand was more likely to be described as torturing the piece of paper under it than as writing on it, and the man's jaws were clenched together.
Norrington was obviously remembering how half of the pirate crew they had encountered two days before had misteriously gotten away in the night, and this piece of paper that was in agony under his squill was surely the report on the incident.
"Lieutenant, I think you can call it a day. Those pirates are far away, now, and they won't turn up in their cells even if you hand me this report right now."
Startled, Norrington glared up at whoever it was that had talked him out of the important task he was performing... And his glare subdued when he realized it was his superior. A bit.
"I have nothing more urgent to do, captain. I might as well finish this."
Portwell ignored the fierce green eyes that were still glaring at him, even if he was quite sure the lieutenant hadn't meant to sound so contemptuous. He had learned a long time ago that Norringtion just couldn't help it. And it was one of the reasons why he was so pleased with the friendship between Carter and the man. It could only help at that point.
"Actually you have. Wilhem Carter is outside, waiting for you with a rather... promising gift, if the one I got when I am no more than an acquaintance is anything to go by."
And Portwell pointed ever so subtly at the sword box under his arm.
The lieutenant's brow furrowed for a moment, then his eyes lit up in wonder.
"Just go. You'll finish this report tomorrow."
As he said that, Portwell noticed that the glint in Norrington's eyes had darkened, as if an afterthought had replaced the curiosity.
"So he's leaving."
"You know of that?"
"Yes. Wilhem didn't say where he was going, only that he wasn't planning on staying in Port Royal for his forging business. He said he'd come back once or twice a year. I personally don't see what's the problem with staying here, but what do I know, it's not as if he had any reasons to stay."
The lieutenant scowled, to the captain's great amusement.
"Such as young William Turner."
Or such as having a friend in Port Royal, on top of a nearly-adopted-little-brother. Portwell didn't voice that thought. He didn't fancy getting glares from his lieutenant for the whole next week. Norrington's glares could be mighty, when the man put his heart to it.
"He must have his reasons, and there are already many smithies in town. Maybe he doesn't believe the concurrence is worth it."
Damn. Charles Portwell should have known not to say this. Now, there was no avoiding the mighty glares of James Norrington for the next week, then.
The captain excused himself, only reminding the lieutenant that no matter how he felt about it, Carter was still waiting for him outside. It got him another glare from hell, obviously.
James Norrington glanced one last time at the offending report, and decided to leave it for the day. Between two irritating things, that is, said offending report and Carter, the one that actually reacted when he glared at him seemed to be the best choice to vent his anger upon.
By the time the lieutenant had reached the entrance of the fort, his frustration had only grown more irritating. Strangely enough, the feeling fell silent as soon as he saw Wilhem, waiting for him just a bit further away, a wooden box similar to Portwell's under his arm.
The short sword Will had made for James was very different from the commodore's, just in case Will the younger got to do that one in this timeline too. They ended up dueling a bit, one last time.
The blacksmith eventually went back to the smithy for dinner, and gave a parting gift to William too. A silver sword pendant, matching the one he kept on a leather strip at his left wrist. A brother's promise.
