Hi, my dear readers!
And once again a super-big thank you for the reviews. I'm happy that you enjoy the whole story so far and that you seem to love the special relationship that is increasing between our pirate-captain and 'his' storyteller.
Well, today is Valentine's Day, and fitting to this special sweet day comes now the next chapter, in which Hook proves in an own special way what he feels for his cutie/hearty/beauty/kitten/Miss Crabby. Sometimes deeds tell more than thousand words.
And back, in good old England, the soon-to-be-opponents begin to prepare more for their 'excursion'.
Have fun,
Love
Yours Starflight
Chapter 10 – Here There be Dragons
The ride from Bloomsbury in London to the middle of north Surrey lasted more than two hours by motorcar. The main road (that would later become the A3) led from England's capitol southeast to Guildford and from there to Milford, where the road to Elstead branched off. From there it was only a stone's throw up the hill to the manor. The weather was becoming nasty again with a wet snow and a new wind.
Kenley Fulsom grit his teeth as he fought to keep the motorcar on the road. Even with a roof and windscreen, he was very happy for his thick coat, scarf, cap and gloves. His feet were cold and he counted himself lucky that he could still feel the pedals.
None of the driver's efforts registered with the man in the back seat of the Austin Landaulette. Dalton Ashford was immersed in Wendy's second book of adventures – adventures which he never would have considered factual if he hadn't seen the magical island in Brynna's crystal ball. And if he hadn't spoken with the Darlings. And if she hadn't vanished twice before.
Looking at the drawings, he chewed his lower lip. All those creatures. He'd seen them all in his storybooks as he was growing up, fictional, fantastic, surely unreal. They were … unnerving to say the least. He'd known of the reality of these fantasies for the past decade – after all he had seen the pixies in Dartmoor. But he'd learned enough of them to make him wary. And here were detailed descriptions of these dark beasts – harpies, trolls and goblins and a powerful warlock. So, black magic exists, as well. How fortunate that Brynna wasn't a witch but 'only' a wise woman – he thought to himself.
When the motorcar finally stopped in front of the manor, his reading was interrupted. "Oh, we're already here," he murmured, and exited the motorcar as Fulsom opened the door for him. Howard was already coming down the steps from the main entrance, holding an umbrella for him.
"Welcome back, Milord. Please be careful, the steps are still slippery," he said politely.
"Thanks, Howard, you're as attentive as ever." He looked at the driver. "Fulsom, please take care that my luggage is brought into the manor, and then take the rest of the day off. I'll have a servants' room made ready for you to use."
Fulsom touched his cap and bowed. "Thank you, Milord." While he got the luggage, Howard escorted Dalton up the stairs with the umbrella.
Johnathan Price came toward him through the foyer. "Milord, welcome back," he said, bowing. "Ms. Lunette asked that you to come to the red salon as soon as you return, sir. Your guests have already arrived."
"Both of them?" Dalton asked, and at the butler's nod, he smiled. "That was quick." He walked to the wing left of entrance and from there to the rear of the manor toward the private rooms, arriving at the red salon. Large bay windows opened to a view of the park behind the manor and the attached terrace. The walls were painted in a deep wine-red that harmonised nicely with the dark woodwork and the heavy Empire-furniture. A generous fire burned in the large open fireplace with the decorated mantel, and thick carpets warmed the flagstone floor.
Of the four the arm chairs, two were occupied by the men and Brynna Lunette sat on the low sofa. They all rose as one when Ashford arrived, but it was the woman who walked towards him.
"Dalton, back so early," she greeted him.
Demonstrating her special status at the manor, the Viscount bent forwards and gave her a quick peck on her cheek. "Brynna, you're looking as well as ever," he said. While Jonathan served tea, Ashford moved to the younger man, hand outstretched. "Einar, it's good to see you again.
"Milord, always a pleasure to see you. I trust you're well?" He spoke with a thick Danish, emphasizing the sibilant. He was in his early thirties, had dark hair, a thin beard along his jaw and a hint of moustache. His light-brown eyes mocked the younger man, and his posture betrayed his arrogance. He wore a brown suit with a brown jacquard waistcoat, a white shirt, light brown tie, and dark boots. By his standards this was high-fashion. The other times Ashford had seen the hunter, the man had worn khaki and pocketed vests.
"Thank you for asking, I'm well enough to host a hunt of a very special beast," Dalton replied.
"Yes, and I'm most curious of what kind of beast you have in mind," Einar Anders grinned, eyes eager.
Dalton glanced at Brynna, and the old woman explained, "Mr. Anders arrived only half an hour ago. I hadn't time yet to tell him which kind of 'safari' we are planning."
"Indeed, I look forward to the revelation," Dalton murmured and turned his attention to the second visitor, assuming this was the 'dragon-expert.' And, dear readers, to put it plainly: The name Archibald Hutchings fitted him to a T.
He was in his mid-sixties, and his entire appearance screamed 'eccentric professor.' He wore his grey muttonchops in the longer style, fashionable thirty years before, had a trimmed moustache, and sparse hair was parted in the middle. He was clothed in an outfit made of thick tweed with leather-patched sleeves, a fitted waistcoat that was tight over a large belly, betraying his love of good food. The golden chain of a pocket watch hung from one of the buttons to the waistcoat pocket and instead of a tie he wore a cravat in green. Green-grey eyes examined the young viscount from behind round spectacles, sparkling with curiosity but also with a strange inner fire.
"If I may?" Brynna said. "Dalton, this is Archibald Hutchings – professor of philosophy and culture with a focus on northern mythology. He teaches at the University of Wales in Lampeter." She turned to the professor. "Archibald, this is Viscount Dalton Ashford, only son of Earl Marlow Ashford."
The older man smiled and as he offered Ashford his hand. It was large with a strong grip. "It's a pleasure, Sir. Brynna 'as told me a lot about you, and I'm honored of meetin' you finally," he said with a Welsh accent that 'swallowed' the initial 'h' of a word and cut off the "ing" endings.
"The pleasure is mine, Professor," Dalton replied. "The University of Wales in Lempeter. Isn't it one of the oldest degree awarding institutions in Wales?"
"It is, Sir," Archibald nodded. "And our library is somethin' you'd love to see. It 'olds books and documents even from the thirteenth century."
Ashford nodded, obviously pleased. "I heard about it but never visited it – a failure I have to correct. We have an excellent library here, too. If you like, I'll show you later." He signaled Johnathan to fill his cup with tea. "But first I think, I have to explain to you two gentlemen, why you are here." He took a seat in one of the two free armchairs, and the others followed his example. They waited until the butler had left, then Dalton began while sweetening his tea. "Let me first tell you something about our family – or rather, about the Ashford Curse and the cure Brynna discovered."
"I thought this is about a hunt?" Einar interjected, surprised.
"It is," the viscount replied calmly, "It's about a hunt you all will remember when you're bouncing your great grandchildren on your knees. A hunt that will demand more than tracking down an animal and a good aim. A hunt that will take us far and away – to another world, so to speak. A hunt that will reward you, Einar, with the biggest and rarest trophy possible, and you, professor, with the fulfillment of your greatest desire. The ingredient Brynna needs to brew the medicine is found in the most dangerous and deadliest of beasts that ever existed, a beast most people believe to be only legend – and I know where and how to find it!"
*** PP *** PP ***
The sun had risen before the tribe and their guests awoke the next morning. Soon all were engaged in preparing for the planned hunt, Lost Boys, warriors, and all the women and girls.
Wendy awoke, briefly confused by her surroundings, but then joined in on the activities after finger-combing her hair and collecting her personal items. Blanket over her shoulders, she addressed Peter. "Where's Tiger-Lily? Are they making breakfast?"
Peter shrugged. "Outside, I think. It's already too warm in here."
"Breakfast outside – I love it!" the girl sighed. "Peter, help the boys put this place in order. I'll be back shortly," she said and left the tent.
Peter glanced around. Most of the blankets lay where they'd been thrown off, except for the John's, Nibs' and Michael's, which were rolled up. But why should that matter? He shrugged, looking puzzled.
"It's a girl thing," Bumblyn explained.
"I guess we can blame it on that boring school," Peter groused, and rose, too, ready for some fun.
Wendy was grateful that Tiger-Lily showed her where to relieve herself, leaving her a bowl with water to wash. The Indian girl even provided a towel. Then Wendy used her teeth brush and afterwards a broad brush on her long hair, but afterwards she looked more civilized, though still wearing her nightgown.
Leaving Lily's family's tent, she was about to return to the guest tepee when she spotted the tall shape with the dark mane coming from the council hogan. Her heart leapt, and again her body's reaction confused her. He always had been able to catch her attention but this … this tingling was utterly new. Without her choosing, her eyes scanned the captain. He wore his breeches and his dark shirt hung loosely over them, yet his feet were booted and the metal claw was in place. She assumed that he had slept with the leather harness and the wooden cuff that held the hook to be ready should something happen during the night – not a comfortable rest. Their eyes met and once again there was this odd flip in her belly, yet she controlled herself enough to prevent her blood from rising to her cheeks.
Oh, my, what was happening to her?
Hook had slept better than thought he would, even wearing the harness all night for the reasons Wendy had assumed. The good food, the fresh air, the dancing, the friendly atmosphere within the village … all allowed him to relax. This and the knowledge that a certain sweet Jill was back; a Jill who had become an even greater beauty than she had been as child. His Jill – a wildcat! – he had danced with and who had talked and joked with him as she had done during her last stay, yet something was different. The harmless flutter of her long lashes and her smiles were absolutely tempting – and on the one hand, since she was no child anymore and therefore no longer forbidden … However, the nobleman in him rose up and reminded him that she was very young and he was almost her father's age. On the other hand, his reason had never played much of a part in his thoughts when it came to this particular girl, and he feared that his reason was fighting a losing battle against his wants.
This morning, fate seemed to be toying with him. Only a few steps away from the hogan, he spotted her crossing the clearing. He couldn't help but chuckle at the very familiar sight she presented clad in the eternal nightgown. Rrrrright, this wasn't the cotton and ribbon nightgown of a little girl, but the long silken skirt of a young lady, with a curved neckline, laces and ruffles, half hidden beneath an Indian shawl. This was such a typical sight that he felt thrown back in time.
Then her gaze found him and she paused, the tiniest flush rising into her heart shaped face. Interesting!
Casually he strolled her direction, not caring that his far too wide open shirt was indecent. She had seen him in fewer clothes than that, and had slept beside him twice. One could say that they knew each other well, even though innocently. And, by the way, (he had to remind himself) he was pirate, so most rules didn't apply!
"Good morning, kitten," he greeted her, and saw her bundle. So, she brought utensils for the morning toilette with her? Another proof of her being more a young lady than she liked to be.
"Good morning, Captain," she said back with one of those shy smiles which brightened her eyes, and soothed even his worst moods. Her gaze flickered to his half bare chest, then she looked firmly up into his face.
He paused to get hold of himself before he could raise his brows. And once again: Interesting!
"Slept well?" he asked, and she nodded.
"Yes, soundly and deep. No wonder, it was a long day. First the flight from London to Neverland, then the festival, the dancing…" Her smile widened. "And you?"
"Thanks, my rest was peaceful – hopefully without too much snoring that would disturb dear Master Pan," he mocked.
Wendy giggled. "I think your men snore louder," she teased – and yelped when two dogs ran past her, almost tearing her plaid away. "Whoa," she laughed after the two animals playing with each other. She felt him helping her replace the woven blanket. 'My, my, isn't he gallant this morning,' she thought, then she saw his gaze. It was directed at her nightgown, eyes becoming suddenly piercing. "Is something the matter?" she asked bewildered.
Hook stared at the gown – recognizing it. Yes, he had seen it before – in those dreams over the last few days.
But before he could speak, an extended roar reached from afar, accompanied by thunderous cracks. Everyone in the camp was instantly silent – including the chattering fairies in the branches above and the dogs. Again, snarls and roars responded as well as more crashes.
"What the hell…" Hook began.
"Stay here, I'll get a closer look!" Peter's voice shouted from above; Tinker Bell was beside him. He shot up into the air – for once not the careless boy but the Prince of Neverland.
"Be careful!" Wendy shouted after him, and wrapped the plaid around herself tightly.
"Dragons," Hook murmured and shivered. "That racket can only come from them. Dammit, they are too close!"
"You think it's the dragons?" the girls asked curiously. The pirate looked grimly in the direction of the sea and nodded, while his men appeared behind him – most of them half clad.
"Where's th' matter?"
"What was 'at?"
"Did ye hear it, Cap'n?"
Hook sighed. "You 'd have to be deaf to miss it. But I'm sure Master Pan will tell us what's going on."
John, Nibs and Slightly joined them. John glanced warily at his sister and Hook (who stood far too close for his liking.) And, to top it off, neither was fully clothed. Aunt Millicent would have screamed 'scandalous!', but – on the other hand – it wasn't the first time John saw his sister in a nightgown standing beside a half-clad pirate-captain! Yet one thing differed a lot from the earlier episodes. Before, Wendy had been a small girl of twelve years, now she was over seventeen, and definitely a young lady. Never should she present herself in nothing more than a nightgown and blanket to a man who was not even a family member! Even their very tolerant mother would be shocked.
Wendy didn't care what she was wearing. Everything important was fully covered. And this was Neverland. Here she could be herself, and the constrictions of a prudish society didn't matter here. Well, at least she saw it that way. That she drew admiring glances slipped her attention completely, yet she was somehow aware of one man's glances beside her.
"They have to be near." Great Big Little Panther stood by Hook, and frowned in the direction of the beach.
"We'll learn about it soon enough," Hook grumbled.
Peter returned before long, grinning from ear to ear. "It's only two of the smaller dragons romping on the beach – nothing serious." Tink gave him a look that spoke volumes, seeing the situation in another light. Peter alighted in the center of the group. "But I think your longboat won't survive this all, Hooky," he joked and flicked a thumb over his shoulder. "They're already using it as a toy."
"WHAT?" the buccaneer exploded.
Wendy's reaction was quite different. "Young dragons? playing?" she squeaked in delight.
"Yes. They're only half the size of the grown ones-"
"He means the size of a house," Hook translated with a wince, but was ignored as another roaring and growling made the trees tremble.
While the grownups paled, Peter laughed, "No, smaller than that. But they make the noise of ten." At the same moment another roar made all the leaves tremble – deeper, darker, stronger. "Oops, sounds like Master Ayden is coming. The young ones are getting an earful."
"I hope Little White Eagle is right. Frolicking dragons are a danger," Great Big Little Panther said.
"Playing dragons?" Twin One stared wide-eyed at Peter.
"Do they play like we do?" Runner wanted to know.
"Yes, it's really funny," Peter smirked and took the air again. "Come on, I'll show you."
"Wait, me too!" Wendy wasn't about to stay behind. Finally she would see some of the dragons close up – even half grown ones. The plaid and the bundle dropped as she and all the boys ran towards the beach with a few of the Indian children, including Tiger-Lily.
From the camp, Bumblyn watched the children racing towards the beach, Wendy among them. He was replacing bedrolls within the tent, but stopped when he heard the roars of the dragons. And now the young humans were running toward the horrible lizards! Mortals were peculiar … And then it hit him. A maiden. And a dragon.
Ohhhh no!
"We must stop them!" Chief Rain-in-the-Face appeared beside Panther, but addressed Hook. "Even if young ones have nothing to fear from dragons, they could harm our children while playing."
The captain turned his head and saw Wendy disappearing between the trees with the others; her white nightgown bright among the trees, her long hair waving like a flag.
A white gown… A young woman… A dragon… Memories of old stories rose from the depths of James' mind breaking through Neverland's magic and revealing the ancient knowledge buried inside.
Smee saw Hook suddenly grow white as a sheet. "Sir?" he began.
James felt an icy fist grip his lungs, for he suddenly couldn't breathe, his feet wouldn't move. Virgins and dragons – a sacrifice to satisfy a monster! Wendy was running, eyes wide open, straight to her death! For a fraction of a moment, Hook was paralyzed, then the man of action woke up. 'What are you waiting for? Hurry or she ends as breakfast!'
Suddenly reanimated, he shouted "WENDY, WAIT!" racing after her. His long legs carried him through the camp and the undergrowth, heedless of thorns and branches tearing at him.
His men gaped, until Smee's "After him, brutes!" animated them, too.
The warriors didn't know why the Iron-Hand seemed to be close to panic all of sudden or why he – and his men – began to run like the Wendigo was after them, but gathered their weapons and followed the palefaces, wondering if the one-handed chief of the large canoe knew something they didn't, that this could be essential for them, too.
"Hurry!" Bumblyn screeched. "Save the Wendy-lady!" Then he ran after them, little legs scampering, but the others were already out of sight even before he reached the clearing. Shouting one of his endless curses, he followed them…
*** PP ***
Wendy barely heard Hook's shout behind her. Together with the boys, who were all faster than she, they ran towards the beach; eager to see the dragons up close and personal! Not feeling the rough ground under her bare feet, she hastened toward the sea, the skirt of her nightgown gathered in one hand.
"WENDY, STOP!" Hook shouted, heart in his throat, making his voice shrill with fear.
The woods were thinning and the girl could already see the scaley creatures on the beach. Though Peter and the boys were near, the pirate's desperate tone brought her to a halt. Why would he sound like that? Grimacing, she turned and shouted back, "Why should I?"
Finally catching up to her, he broke through the final two flowering shrubs, snapping branches off. His gaze flicked to the three dragons at the waterline and then back to Wendy. "STAY AWAY FROM THEM!" he shouted. Two more strides and he was at her side, snatched her up in his arms, heading back to the woods. Wendy could do nothing but cling to him, too surprised to act while the underbrush tore at her nightgown.
The shock had dissipated by the time he set her on her feet, but held her close and glanced back over his shoulder, but she was not pleased. "What was that about?" she snapped. "How dare you assault me like that! Pirate or not-"
"A young woman clad in white and a dragon," he hissed, completely out of breath. "Does that remind you of anything?" At her dumbfounded expression, he snarled, "Alas, little wildcat, you're a storyteller! Don't tell me that you really don't know what dragons do with virgins!" His voice was still too tense, too loud.
Wendy jammed her fists to her hips. "Really, Captain, do you think Peter would lead us into danger?"
"It wouldn't be the first time, would it?" Hook shouted.
"But he never did it intentionally!" she argued back; eyes fiery. "If he says that the dragons are only playing, then-"
"And when this beast has swallowed you whole, will you still call it playing?" James spit, eyes blazing with relief to have come in time and anger in the face of her ignorance.
A deep rough voice answered from above, "That foolish tale has been told for centuries about us!"
Hook froze when he heard the gruff voice from above; his men thought it advantageous to remain hidden in the bushes. He knew to whom the voice belonged and briefly was unable to move or to think, then –
Wendy's face beamed in awe at the creature above them, persuading the warrior and the man in him to turn around.
Red scales shimmered as if newly polished by the sunshine, rising to the heights. A long, thick neck bowed gracefully beneath the branches, revealing a large scaled skull with a long snout, horns and flared nostrils. Golden eyes were hooded under a pointed brow, and long sharp teeth peeked out from what looked like the start of a dragonish smile.
Hook was a brave man. No one would ever deny it. It's also true that the sight of a real dragon could paralyze the bravest knight. But there was another element that made the presence of a dragon a terror for him. Scientists later would call his condition 'post-traumatic stress disorder,' only beginning to understand that the soul could be hurt like the body. And James Hook's soul was wounded – wounded not only by grief, betrayal, disappointment and injury, but also by the haunting of the crocodile that had hunted him for so long. Yes, he had killed the beast in the end, but the dread of all those times when facing the animal had left scars. The presence of an even larger lizard in such close proximity, finding himself in the focus of said beast, filled him with the old terror he thought was gone.
Yet.
As the lizard eyes darted behind him, something woke in him stronger than his fear – an urge to protect Wendy even against the very devil. He had no weapon with him, only his hook which was no help against this beast. Without thought, he stepped between the dragon and the girl, shielding her from those golden eyes. "Keep away from her!" he cried hoarsely, feeling icy fright crawling up his back, yet he stood his ground. His blood seemed to buzz in his ears, his own pulse loud enough to deafen him, cold sweat covered his brow, his stomach churned with dread, but there he stood – like a rock in a raging sea.
Ayden could easily smell the mortal man's fear, radiating from him. This wasn't the usual anxiety he usually confronted when facing humans, but a fear that penetrated deep in the man's soul – placed there by something or someone from the past. Dragons had acute senses, honed by centuries of experience. Ayden knew that this mortal's fright ran deep. Yet the man stood there – between Ayden and his supposed 'victim' – unarmed and alone, but determined to protect the woman behind him.
Ayden sniffled again. Yes, the woman was still young – still untouched – and, he realized, unafraid of him. Yet he smelled worry in her. Looking at her, he recognized that her concern was directed at the man in front of her. He saw her lay her hand on his back in reassurance. The dragon sensed something in her heart – unknown to her until now, but strong and very much alive.
'First feelings – so human, so sweet to witness them,' he thought.
Wendy's first wave of anger vanished when she saw Hook shielding her from the dragon, who – by the way – looked more amused than threatening, quite interesting on that face. And then she noticed Hook's ragged breath, the tension in his stance and as she placed a calming hand on his back, she could feel the trembling in his body. 'Dragons – they have scales. Like the crocodile… Sweet Lord, he must be half mad with fear and yet he wants to protect me!?' She knew then what he was enduring to shield her. She also saw that it was likely unnecessary. The dragon appeared peaceable.
Giving in to impulse, she closed in behind and pressed herself against him; wrapping both arms around him.
For a moment the dragon and the others vanished. Her cheek was against the wild curls of Hook's dark hair and she could smell salt, the scent of soap, and him. She felt his tight muscles – hard as steel – and one thing more, his circumference. He and Peter were slender, yes, but where she could easily encircle Peter's waist, with Hook her arms were filled. Another difference between man and boy.
Then she felt his galloping heartbeat, the hitching breath, and felt the awful tension in him, and under it all, the trembling. The man was terrified – and all for naught. "The dragon won't hurt us," she said softly. "If he wanted to, he would have already done it," she added calmly.
"You can't know that," he croaked; nauseous with fear for her and for himself, too. Never before he had felt so vulnerable, so helpless. One blast of fire, one swipe with those claws, one snap of these mighty jaws, and they would be history!
"The maiden is right," Ayden grumbled, taking pity on him. "We have no idea who started that rumor, that we dragons eat young girls. Why should we? They're too thin, have too little flesh, they scream way too much. Then, afterwards, there's always trouble with those self-appointed heroes, the knights. Oh, and by the way, humans taste badly. Their bones splinter, which is hard on the tongue and gums. They're really not worth the work."
"Why, thank you," Wendy said drily, giving Ayden a sidelong glance and rolling her eyes. "What a charming, complimentary assessment."
Her wry comment elicited a strong bark of laughter from the dragon. "Witty, little one!" He sounded almost teasing, and Wendy gasped when she saw that the dragon actually winked at her and Hook. Then she had to giggle. This dragon made jokes – who had ever thought that a dragon could be funny? She gave the pirate a comforting squeeze with her arms, then she slipped around her protector and curtsied. "Master Ayden, I presume? It's a honor to meet thee. I'm Wendy, Moira, Ange-"
"Wendy, NO!" Hook's left hand closed around her arm as he pulled her back. Wendy glared at him – and Ayden began to laugh again, a rich, deep, growling sound.
"You two are sweet," he stated. "Fear not, fair maiden. I will neither hurt your mate nor you."
'Mate?'
The dragon made another sound that vaguely resembled a chuckle, then he looked behind the two humans into the bushes and to the lonely figure that stood there – trembling with fear, but with a stout loyal heart. "Tell your comrades they can come out, grey one. This man here has an old fear to face, but he shows the courage to stand up to me. What about them?"
Hook dashed a look over his shoulder. Smee was the only one who had dared to approach. He stood there, knife held before him in a trembling hand, pale with fright, but brave enough to watch his captain's back. As the dragon's words reached them, the other pirates came nearer. Ayden grumbled quietly deep in his chest. "Even this old man displays more courage than you," he rebuked them.
The forest rustled around them, and the warriors came forward, weapons lowered but determined to fight if necessary. And then the shaman appeared. There is a saying that bravery and foolishness walk hand in hand. It wasn't clear if this was the case, too, or if the shaman simply knew that the dragon wasn't an enemy on principle. He bowed deeply towards Ayden and said, "Great Big Little Panther greets the mighty Fire Breather of the skies."
Ayden seemed very pleased to be addressed like this, because he bowed as a horse, lowering his front quarters toward the man. "I greet you, Ghost-Talker," he replied, sensing this man's character and abilities.
Great Big Little Panther glanced at the six pirates; obviously displeased. "The mighty Fire Breather is right. Your chief confronted this powerful being without a weapon and his older friend stayed with him despite his many summers – and you, strong younger men, hide in the bushes." He shook his head at them as a father would rebuke children. The pirates looked at him, then at Hook – who ignored them – then at the mighty scaled creature, gulped and decided to remain silent.
"Hey, what's going on here?" the cheerful voice came from the right, accompanied by the golden light of Tinker Bell. Down on the beach, the boys were laughing and tumbling playfully with the younger dragons. "Have you seen a ghost?" Peter glanced at his old nemesis and teased, "What's the matter, Hook? Did you eat a bad oyster? Why are you so green?"
Ayden observed the flying boy, who hovered beside his head in the air. "I think this man has a completely wrong view of my folk."
Peter waved his right hand. "Nah, the Codfish here only has problems with scaled beasties, that's all."
"Codfish?" The dragon edged his large head towards the eternal boy. "So, this is the codfish you were referring to?" One long claw pointed like a finger toward the pirate.
"Yeah, he's what I was telling you about, and you decided to brood about it," Peter grinned. The dragon's face twitched – his way of grimacing.
Hook's fear was quickly replaced by his anger, driving out the panic. "What was that, Pan? You made me a riddle to a dragon?"
The boy only shrugged. "Hey, your nickname slipped out, that's all. Don't fret, Master Ayden has no appetite for you or your hook. After all, he's no crocodile!"
"Not much of a compliment," the dragon mused. "Crocodiles are rather small with only hunting and sleeping on their tiny minds."
"It was more than enough for my taste," Hook commented sarcastically, before he remembered to what he was speaking. Gulping, he looked up at the dragon again, who…
… who lifted one of his scaley brows very like a human would do with an eyebrow! Was this normal?
"Well, I have to agree with Hooky this time," Peter remarked. "This croc was more than enormous."
"It was quite frightening," Wendy said quietly, "even if it helped us twice." This earned her Hook's glare. She laid a hand on his arm. "You were an enemy then, trying to kill us. The croc was a distraction. And Master Ayden is right: They are not very intelligent."
"But good hunters," Peter chuckled. "They can still scare someone even after they're long dead."
Hook's eye narrowed. "Brat!" he growled.
"Why? I'm not the one who goes all pale and trembly when I see a lizard. I should collect some geckos. Would that do it for you?" Peter was enjoying himself way too much.
That did it for Wendy. Hook had come to her aid and had faced his deepest fear. Even if his heroism had been unnecessary, he'd been ready to fight to the death for her. "Peter, stop it!" she said sternly. Catching his surprised gaze, she continued, "Captain Hook wanted to protect me, and any sane man would be terrified when facing a real dragon, especially without a weapon and no way of escape. You can fly away when things get dangerous, Captain Hook cannot, yet he decided to confront what he thought was a vicious enemy for my benefit."
"But Wendy, you didn't have to be protected. Master Ayden-"
"Captain Hook couldn't know that – no more than I. There are old legends, you know, and I'm glad that they're so very wrong. Otherwise, Peter Pan, the captain and I would be dead by now and you would have to mourn me. So stop taunting him!"
While Ayden watched the young human with respect – she had fire! – Peter stared at her. Wendy was so … different than she was before. She always had had a sort of weak spot for the 'codfish', but wasn't she taking this too far?
Loud shouts and cheerful snarls caught everyone's attention and Ayden ducked under the branches above him, his sleek motion belying his large size. "And I know I taught those two how to behave," he grumbled and made his way to the waterline where two younglings romped with Peter's gang and a few Indian children. His plodding walk and long tail left strange tracks in the sand.
Peter flew to the wood's edge, too, and sighed. "Now they all have to dry off first before we can have breakfast back at the camp." He looked back at Wendy. "Are you coming? I thought, you wanted to meet them." He pointed at the young dragons.
"Yes, I'll follow in a moment," she replied.
"Don't take too long," was all Peter called cheerfully; their tiff already forgotten. Then he flew down to the waterline.
Hook took a very deep breath as the beast retreated. For a moment he allowed himself to rub his brow with his fingertips. Cold sweat was beginning to dry on his back and from his high forehead, but the churning in his belly had barely lessened. He knew that he was trembling again – but this time as a response to relief. Clinging to the shred of dignity he still possessed, he straightened to his full height and lowered his hand, actually tucking it into his pocket to hide the tremors. He spent a long moment looking out to the sea, breathing deeply, calming himself.
Wendy looked up at him. She could only try to imagine how he felt, and gave him a shy smile. "Don't mind him, Captain," she said. "You know how he is."
"Yes, a careless, ungrateful flying pest!" It was clear that this was an outlet for Hook's bottled emotions and the resulting frustration.
Giggling quietly, Wendy shook her head, smiling. "You two – you'll never change, will you?" He turned his still dark, wild eyes on her, and she changed the subject. "I know what you were trying to do, protect me by facing your worst fears unarmed." The way to reward him came up suddenly in her imagination, and before she could lose her nerve, she raised herself on tiptoes and gave him a peck on the cheek. She had done it almost five years ago as she bade him farewell at the Black Castle. She had done it then to show him someone cared, this time she did it to take care of him – and to thank him. Knowing his pride, that he loathed any show of vulnerability or weakness, she said no more, but squeezed his arm, nodded to the shaman, and walked to the beach.
James watched her leave. Had she just given him a kiss? All right, it was no more than a peck, still… Still the sensation of her warm lips on his cold skin felt like a summer breeze. Without thinking, he raised his hand and touched the spot where her mouth had lingered for a second; dissipating some of the dread that had filled him.
His reverie was interrupted by Great Big Little Panther. The shaman observed him calmly. "Little White Eagle speaks with the quick tongue and the careless thoughts of a child. Do not rage against him for it. Children lack the wisdom that years bring." He paused, then continued soberly. "Rarely have I seen greater courage than Iron-Hand just demonstrated."
Hook knew that the Indian was not being sarcastic, yet he snorted. "Hardly likely," he scoffed. "You heard Pan: 'Pale and trembling'."
"He is wrong, but as a child he knows naught of the inner demons we war against," Great Big Little Panther replied with a low voice. "A warrior can fight with his hands and his weapons against any living enemy, but the greatest, most difficult battle a man must face is against his own vicious ghosts. He must be stronger than their evil influence. It is the bravest thing a man can do. Iron-Hand did even more. He was not only confronted with an evil spirit of the past in his mind, but also with a truly fearsome creature he thought to be a deadly threat to him and Brave Feather, yet he stood fast, ready to protect her with his own life." He laid a hand on the captain's shoulder; feeling the leather harness underneath it. "You fought not with your iron hand nor with the long knife, not even a gun, but with your mind and your spirit, drawing strength from within. It is a battle not many men dare to face. Even fewer pass this sort of test the Great Spirit sends us from time to time. Other palefaces may call you a thief, Great Big Little Panther calls you a true warrior."
For a moment, Hook was speechless, and so he only lowered his gaze before he cleared his throat around the lump that had suddenly appeared there.
The shaman smiled inwardly; proud men always reacted this way, independent of their heritage and color of skin. "Allow a bit of advice between two men," he added in a hushed voice. "Great Big Little Panther senses the unique connection between you and Brave Feather – the first elements of the bond were already woven while she was a child. Hold onto this bond and strengthen it."
To his utter horror, the captain felt heat rising into his cheeks. "What's that?" he asked briskly, clearing his throat again.
Great Big Little Panther gave him one of his rare grins. "Even the strongest warrior needs a mate." With those words he moved towards the beach; the other Indians followed him, showing Hook respect by saluting him, palm to chest, and bowing their heads while passing on their way to the beach.
*** PP *** PP ***
… And far away on the Mainland, the crystal ball in the dungeons of Ashford Manor was shimmering in its own mystical light; showing an astonished hunter and a smiling professor the wonder of Neverland and the dragons' existence…
TBC…
Is this a proof of love – risking his own life for someone else? And, even more, overcoming the own deepest inner fear to keep said someone safe? Yes, I think this all spoke volumes (even if Peter didn't see it this way, but – sorry – he is 'just a boy', and children have different views of everything than adults).
In the next chapter there will be more of Ayden and the two young dragons, Hook & Wendy (the latter will find something important) and Anders and the professor will learn what lays ahead for them (means, they'll have a closer look at Neverland).
I hope, you enjoyed the chapter and I'd be happy for more reviews (*smile*).
Have a nice Valentin's Day and a nice rest of the week,
Love
Yours Lywhn