Their Hearts' Desire

by Starflight1701

SEQUEL to "BATTLE FOR NEVERLAND" - (I changed the pen-name from Lywhn to Starflight). Five years after 'Battle...', an almost grownup Wendy returns to Neverland. As her suitor follows her for reasons other than 'rescuing' her, it threats Peter and his world. Hook is forced to act - not only to save the day but also 'his' storyteller for whom his heart burns. Full summary inside.

13. Here There Be Dragons, part 2

Hi, my dear readers,

Thank you once again for the many reviews and I'm glad that the story captures you so. I know, the most of you are really curious, and so no long 'epilogue', but off you go to Neverland.

Have fun,

Love

Yours Lywhn / Starflight

Chapter 11 – Here There Be Dragons, part 2

The new Lost Boys had already met the younger dragons and knew which two were now on the beach: Belena and Enjo were their names (or their closest approximation in human speech.) Together they were splashing in the surf near the beach, careful not to harm their smaller playmates. The boys and a few of the Indian children were eager to outdo Belena and Enjo in their splashing, and the battle was on, with screams of laughter ringing around them.

Wendy didn't dare get wet, due to the translucent property of wet silk so she only waded ankle deep. Tiger Lily understood Wendy's dilemma and remained with her at the edge of the surf. When Peter saw that the girls hadn't joined them, he panted across the white sand to ask why. "Just a girl thing for now," Wendy explained, and, with a shrug, he accepted it. Looking around he saw Panther standing with Ayden, who had sat down like an oversized cat; tail neatly wrapped around his paws. Both were watching the other children attentively – the human and the dragon ones – and conversed together. Then he saw the sand-coloured youngling trotting towards him and the two girls. They smiled up at the large creature.

"Good morning," the pale one greeted the dragon joyfully, "I'm Wendy."

"I'm Tiger-Lily," the chief's daughter added.

"Belllenaaa," came the almost slurred answer. Human language was still strange on the dragon's young tongue – and this one was a female, as her name revealed. She dropped her head (that had the size of a horse) to look at Wendy, and impulsively, Wendy reached out and laid her hand on Belena's snout, stroking it, and Tiger Lily also did the same. The young dragon closed her eyes and made sounds similar to a purr. The girls smiled; amazed how smooth and sleek the scales felt, yet they were hard, and flexible. Of course, after all they had to withstand motion and dragon-fire.

Peter stared open mouthed at his friends, then laughed out loud. Typical Wendy, even making friends with a dragon! And Tiger-Lily was adventurous anyway. "Well, you three, have fun," he said, and threw himself back into the waves, unaware of the pair of narrowed blue eyes watching them.

After the shaman had gone down to the beach together with the other warriors, Hook sent his men to discover the condition of the longboat. He walked the distance to the edge of the beach until he reached the sand. To his dismay, his knees suddenly felt like pudding. Now, after the danger had passed, it seemed his body was recovering from his "fight or flight" reaction. So he sat down near the wood's edge before he collapsed. Pulling his knees up, he propped his elbows on them. Slowly shaking his head, he watched how the two younger dragons – one sandy, the other one greenish – were soon swimming near the low surf, and all children cavorted with them together in the clear rolling waves. It was a peaceful picture, yet he didn't trust it. The ghost of that crocodile had retreated to the edge of his mind, but it was still lurking, ready to leap out at any time.

He saw how the large red dragon – Ayden, as he knew now – and Great Big Little Panther remained in the middle of the beach, talking. Then the giant creature sat down like a dog and folded his large wings behind him, 'Seeming to watch over his children and their playmates,' he thought. The way the dragon obviously relaxed made Hook take a deep breath in relief. It didn't look as if the creature planned an attack soon. He watched quietly for a few moments but tensed when he saw one of the young dragons tromp through the water towards the shore and halt in front of Wendy, Tiger-Lily and Pan. Feeling his gut churn, James saw how the girls and the dragon talked together, and shuddered as he noticed the mouthful of teeth as the beast seemed to laugh. And the held his breath as the Wendy reached out and… And began to pet the thing like a dog or a cat!

Hook readied himself to move, should it become necessary – would he even cover the distance in time? Yet nothing happened except that the dragon closed its eyes and seemed to smile, while Pan returned to his friends in the water.

"Aye, she did it again," Smee murmured, flopping down and wheezing beside Hook.

"What do you mean?" the captain asked; not taking his eyes from the girl. That picture, how she and the dragon stood there like old friends, was unnerving. And that the Indian princess joined in petting the young monster didn't calm him at all.

"Taming the wildest heart wit' her charms," Bryan answered, keeping the double meaning to himself. For a long moment both were silent, only the rolling of the surf and the racket from the friends in the water disturbed the morning peace.

After it became clear that the girl was indeed in no danger, Hook's heartbeat slowed to a normal rate, while he dared to relax again. Yet the terror still echoed in him. Taking another deep breath of the fresh salty air, he looked first towards the sea – a sight that always calmed him. He watched how the waves crashed against the rocks of the few riffs not far away from the beach – an everlasting play of water and stray. Then he glanced towards his men, who stood around the longboat, measuring and seemingly enjoying the beach and the sunshine. As much as Hook could see from afar, Pan hadn't exaggerated when he said the young dragons had used the boat as a ball. It looked more like a bunch of planks than a vessel, and the captain shook his head.

"The longboat is ruined," he murmured. "Crackerjack, that's what we needed: To be stranded here 'til Billy Jukes sends a rescue crew, or walking straight through the island to Pirate's Cove and screaming our lungs out to be heard aboard."

"Maybe we can borrow a canoe from t'e Indians and row ter our ship," Smee suggested.

"We're eight men – too much for the small canoes," Hook waved it off.

"Two of us could row ter the Jolly Roger and return with t'e second longboat," Bryan mused. "The ot'ers stay here 'til then."

Pursing his lips, Hook thought about it. "Hm, and in the meanwhile we join the Indians' hunting party. We have to refill our stock anyway, so…" He cocked his head. "Excellent idea, Smee."

"T'ank ye, Capt'n," the old Irishman smiled. It was rare that Hook paid a compliment, and so he was quite pleased.

"It's me who has to thank you," James said, unusually sincere, while looking at the older man. "You were the only one who stayed by my side while facing that … that scaled monster." He nodded towards Ayden, still conversing with the shaman and overseeing the younglings. 'Perhaps his own offspring?'

"Aye, Capt'n. Ya know I got yer back, no matter what."

Yes, this was true – and unusual among pirates. On the other hand, his men were similarly loyal, but he knew it was out of necessity, habit and likely fear. Smee was loyal because he felt bound to Hook; almost fatherly. And for this, James was grateful.

"'E looks like an oversized watchdog," Smee chuckled, nodding toward Ayden. As he caught Hook's gaze, he added, "Ye 'ave ter admit, Sir, he's now 'alf as scary as b'fore."

"Which bids me be cautious," the captain sighed, and propped his chin on his hand and the metal claw on his knees. "Why do I have the feeling that this is only the beginning of something far more … frightening?"

Something approached behind them in the bushes. As they turned to see, they saw a tiny figure dashing out of the undergrowth. Bumblyn stopped, looked with definite awe at the scene on the beach – and plopped onto the sand, completely out of breath. He wiped his sweaty face with the pointed hat.

"Not 'frightening'," Hook grumbled while rolling his eyes, and Smee chuckled. Then the captain addressed the newcomer, "And now we know what a long way you can run."

"Bumb … Bumblyn was afraid for … for the Wendy girl," the Hobgoblin panted. "But… but…"

"But our storyteller has already charmed the dragons," Hook added. "I should warn them of her sweet tricks."

"Speakin from 'sperience, Capt'n?" Smee teased.

"Rather," his commander deadpanned, while he turned his eyes to the beach again. "I don't believe this scene at all! You'd think they were on a picnic!" Hook whispered. Thoughtfully he stared at the view in front of him. To his right a red dragon, large as a house, sat and talked with an Indian shaman, and to his left two girls sat in the sand with a smaller dragon stretched out like a cat in front of a fireplace; the large wings spread to dry in the morning sun. And a third dragon was romping with two dozen children in the quiet surf of the Never-Sea.

"This … this is crazy!" Hook muttered. "Does nobody realize how dangerous these beasts are? And Wendy … why does she take such risk?"

'She loves risks, or why do you think, she is so smitten with you?' Smee thought, but knew better than to say it aloud to such an enormous male ego sitting beside him. He heard jingling and saw Tinker Bell and a few other fairies sitting on the lower branches of a tree behind them, chattering. So, if the Fae were not alarmed by the dragons' presence, then there really was nothing to fear.

Leaning back on his elbows, the Irishman looked up at the clouds now nearly covering the blue. He pursed his lips. "Funny," he said suddenly. "T'ose clouds dere look like eyes." He nodded to his right.

Hook lifted his head and glanced up at them. With some imagination, the white and pink clouds did resemble eyes, but they were already shifting and piling slowly over the horizon.

"Eyes?" He snorted in amusement. "Really, Smee, you surprise me sometimes. I supposed it comes from talking to a Leprechaun," he joked.

Bryan only laughed cheerily. "T'is was the first time in forever I could talk to a fellow-countryman, even if 'e's only a small un wit' a lotta tricks up 'is sleeve."

"Yes, beware of the bogeys – or the other Little People," James agreed. "They … rub off on you." The bosun nodded, still smiling, and Hook chuckled softly. It wasn't often that they spoke together as friends and it felt good – even if the captain would never admit it.

Suddenly a loud roar was heard in the distance, and then two other dragons came flying from the mountains down towards the sea. Their calls were answered by Ayden and the two younglings.

"Has something happened?" Panther demanded.

"The first hatchling has emerged," the red dragon said and shouted in the human tongue, "Belena, Enjo, time to return!" While Belena, the sandy dragon, rose with surprising grace, Enjo, the greenish one, galloped to the beach, shook himself like a dog and collected himself to take the air.

Ayden spoke to Great Big Little Panther. "Keep my words in mind. Until the next time, Ghost-Talker." A sudden tornado seemed to have reached the beach as Ayden and the two young ones rose into the air as if they weighed nothing. The wind ceased in the twinkling of an eye, and they were high over Neverland returning to the mountains …

*** PP *** PP ***

"Dragons!"

Einar Anders stared first at the old woman on other side of the table with the bowl and the crystal ball, meeting her calm, cool gaze. She lifted a grey brow. He glanced at the older scholar, who only smiled happily, lost in his thoughts. He wasn't at all surprised, but intensely interested. Einar was intrigued by the older man's reaction. 'So, what is his specialized field? Philosophy of culture? A Welshman. Possibly he believes in old myths and dragons – the flag of his country speaks its own language.'

Anders' attention turned to Viscount Ashford, who still watched the scene in the ball – fascinated and wary in one, and so Einar looked again at the island displayed in the glass ball. Certainly the size of a house or a train car, their images were so small you only could see them when concentrating, yet there was no doubt what these flying animals were. Just this moment, a red one was together with two smaller ones, one sand coloured, one green, on a beach, two others were flying over the snow-covered mountains and approached the sea. The large red one and two smaller ones promptly took to the air, heading towards the others.

His head was whirling. A dungeon in an old manor. An old woman, the housekeeper, but master of some spellcraft. A crystal ball that showed an unknown island. Occupied by dragons. If he hadn't seen this with his own eyes, he would have laughed it off as nonsense. Surely this was a con! But the viscount was not asking him for money or fame, but offered to bankroll the hunt.

"These are the beasts you want to hunt?" he asked his host, Dalton Ashford.

The viscount took a deep breath. "The one ingredient I still need is dragon blood. So, yes, we must hunt one of those creatures down."

"You have no chance against a dragon – not even with the rifles and pistols of today," Archibald said slowly. "Their scales are harder than any armour on Earth and bullets'll simply bounce off. They 'ave the strength of ten elephants, yet they are quick as lizards in movement. They can fly like an eagle, their fire is 'otter than the smeltin' furnaces in ironworks. It would be difficult to defeat one dragon, but this 'ere is a 'ole flock – a family clan I only assume. We-"

"I don't need to slay a matured dragon," Dalton interrupted him. "It's possible we don't have to kill one of them at all. I need their blood, blood is best transported and kept fresh and liquid in a living body."

Einar beheld the boy, eyes wide. "You want to capture one?"

"Yes, but ..." Ashford glanced straight at him. "… we can take it in an egg."

The Dane blinked a few times. "An egg!?"

Hutchings cleared his throat. "I arrived already yesterday evenin' and Brynna showed me the island yesterday and durin' the mornin'. I was able to observe the dragons for some time. They are layin' their eggs there – at least their behaviour implies it. A few of them – certainly the females – stay near the caves or vanish in them for hours, while the male ones keep the watch or go 'untin', feedin' the females. It's the same behaviour of breedin' pairs among birds. If we 'urry, we c'n be there afore the first fledglin's 'atch."

Einar looked from one to the other, and finally snorted. "You sent me a telegram about hunting for a special beast. I thought about everything it could possibly be, a polar bear, a Siberian tiger, a special mountain gorilla… But never in a million years would I have considered a dragon!"

Dalton lifted both brows. "Would you have come if I'd written you the truth?"

Anders made a face. "I don't know. I probably would have thought that you'd had too much to drink, or that you were joking, but this … if this is true …" He made a gesture towards the crystal ball. "If – IF, I say – I embark on this insanity, how do we get there? Where is this island found? Why has no one ever discovered the dragons there?"

"This island is in a faery realm, therefore you will not find it on maps made by humans," Brynna rose to speak; meeting the Dane's gaze. "You're a Nordic man, you have surely heard the legends of the realms which exist alongside our world."

"A fairy realm?" Einar blinked again. Were these people all crazy? He glanced at the viscount, who seemed to be sane. "Do you believe this … this fantasy realm?" he asked.

"I've already seen pixies with my own eyes riding Dartmoor ponies in Devonshire only a few years ago. And one hair of a young woman who has been to the island brought this crystal ball to life. She has been there twice." He addressed Lunette now. "I got her two diaries about her adventures there. Her parents gave them to me to-"

"You got diaries of a young woman from her parents?" Einar shook his head. "Really, Milord, that isn't the fine English manner!" It was unclear whether he was mocking or teasing the young man.

"Wendy and her brothers followed a flying boy back to the island again last night-"

"A flying boy?" Einar's face betrayed his thoughts: 'They ARE all insane.'

"Yes. I think he's a changeling and was raised by the fairies there," Ashford explained in his most matter-of-fact tone. "Miss Darling, the young woman, reveals this in her diaries – her books, she prefers to call them – that he speaks the language of Fae, they come to his aid and one fairy is even living with him, something like a pet, keeping an eye on him. He refuses to grow up and therefore remains in Neverland. He was taken there by the fairies when he was a toddler. It sounds to me like the typical tale of a changeling." He took a deep breath. "Fact is that the boy lured Miss Darling and her brothers once again away to this island. I'd gone to see her at her home, and the adults could not hide the truth from me. And after I told them about the dragons in Neverland, they were all quite concerned, to say the least. We all know the legends about these monsters and virgins, don't we?"

Anders frowned and put two and two together. "So, you would prefer to characterize our quest as a kind of … rescue mission?"

"It will be a rescue mission, our foremost goal is to save Miss Darling and her brothers, but there are two other goals for our quest: To find a dragon's egg, and acquire some of the dragon's treasure that they hoard."

"Treasure?" Einar's interest grew.

"All of the old tales describe the greed of dragons and their hoard of treasures. If we could get hold of a gem or two and a few gold coins, surely it wouldn't upset you?"

The Dane pursed his lips. "Well, at least it would increase my inclination to take this leap of faith. What about the trophy of which you spoke?"

Dalton only smiled. "Whether you slay a dragon or not is entirely up to you. You'll get my full support, money or equipment. If you return and present the skull of a dragon to the whole world, I'm sure your fame will bring you treasure enough for all your inconveniences during the expedition."

Einar stared again into the crystal ball; the reasons for accepting the offer were piling up in his imagination. He would be the first man in modern times to slay a dragon and bring the trophy home. The press would go head over heels. He would be invited to academies, universities and meetings of scientists, and getting paid enormous sums for it. Publications. Speeches. The wealthy "adventurers" would jump at the chance to hire him for safaris … Yes, this adventure was sounding better and better.

Cocking his head, Anders observed the island and its surroundings. "Is that an old sailing ship? How did it get there? What happened to the crew? Are they living on that island?"

"According to Miss Darling, it's a pirate ship."

"Pirates?" The hunter's brows were lifted. "Like Blackbeard?" He sounded amused.

Dalton smiled briefly. "Yes, Miss Darling gave the pirate captain a background that is connected with the infamous Blackbeard. Personally, I believe that the crew members are simple ragged seamen who were stranded there. But every tale has roots, and if Miss Darling didn't exaggerate, then the captain of the ship is a well-educated man with decent manners. Perhaps we can bargain with him-"

"You mean, parley with him," Archibald cut in. To the three confused gazes, he added, "Well, among pirates it's called 'parley' not 'bargain'."

Ashford cleared his throat. "Parley or bargain, I do not care. If we speak with the man and hire a few of his crew to lead us around, I'm sure it would be to their and our advantage. He knows the island, we do not."

"And if these sailors really are pirates?" Einar threw in for consideration.

"Even pirates have needs, perhaps we can even make a deal. We could offer to take them back with us. If they're stranded there, I'm sure they'll be happy to get away. But they are not the only inhabitants of the island." He pointed to the south-east of Neverland. "You see the smoke? It belongs to an Indian village."

"Indians – like in America?" Anders asked, astounded.

"Which tribe?" Hutchings wanted to know.

"Don't ask me, it's mentioned in the first and second book," Dalton sighed. "If we can't agree on a deal with these so-called pirates, we also can try it with the Indians. I'm sure they know the island inside out. A few colourful beads, some blankets and mirrors and we can win them."

Crossing his arms in front of his chest, Archibald said slowly, "What about the other 'abitants? The members of the Little People? Faeries be small but they can be dangerous, just like bogeys, gnomes and all the other creatures of the fae."

"Leave them to me," Brynna said. "There are plenty of ways to keep faeries at distance and to defend yourself against them. I'll prepare everything for you." She fixed Einar with a piercing glance. "You need subordinates for the hunt – men, you trust and who won't shrink away when the situation gets nasty."

The Dane shrugged. "I can think of a few who won't ask questions but would do anything for a few pounds sterling. And I also know someone who could be my right hand: Morton Wickham. He's a daredevil who loves nothing more than a good challenge." He looked at Dalton. "You know him."

"Yes, I remember, we met during the last safari. He's the right kind of man for this adventure," the viscount nodded. Then he smiled. "So, you're in?"

Einar rubbed his face with one hand. "It's irresistible – crazy, insane even. But… yes, count me in," he nodded and offered his hand to Ashford, who accepted it.

Archibald Hutchings bobbed up and down on his toes; his face flushed with excitement. "Then let us prepare everythin' – and mayhap we all should read those… those 'books' the young lady wrote. We would learn more about the island." He smiled. "And maybe we can take a second egg with us – for th' science, y' know."

"If there is a chance, why not," Dalton agreed.

Suddenly Hutchings turned serious. "But whatever you've got in mind for the dragon babe: Nobody 'urts it!"

Ashford gave him a reassuring smile. "Don't fear, Professor. Neither I nor anyone else will disturb one scale of its precious little body." Inwardly he rolled his eyes. 'I only need its blood, and then? Do you want to raise a dragon in our world, old fool? Certainly not!' Then he turned towards Anders. "How long will you need to gather the rest of the men?"

"Morton is in London. I can visit him tomorrow. He is still in contact with four other men, whose assistance would be useful. Three others are scattered around, but two of them are living here in England. Then we must assemble the equipment after we find out what we are really going to need. This may look like the usual tropical island, but we can't count on that. All in all, I think we'll be ready by Thursday – Friday the latest."

"Very good," Dalton nodded. Then he glanced at the woman. "I'll show you those books, too, so that you know what races of the Fae are living there. You can prepare some defensive measures against those little beasts should they turn hostile."

"I also need a map of the island," Einar mused. "I'll make a sketch based on what I'm seeing here, and use the girl's description for details and distinctive areas. It will make a search easier when we now where we are and what lies ahead."

"Good idea," Ashford nodded, then he waved the two men nearer and wrapped his arms around their shoulders. "Gentlemen, this is a very important hour – an hour that will change the world and will bring us only wealth and fame. And it will break the curse of my family. So, let the adventure begin…"

*** PP *** PP ***

Surprised by the sudden departure of their large playmates, the children in the shallows of the Neversea looked after them, then resumed their play. Most of the Indian warriors began to retreat, no longer needed by the shore.

"Maybe we should return to the village, too," Wendy suggested to the princess, and gestured towards the sea. "Let them play. I'm sure they'll be hungry soon."

Tiger-Lily chuckled. "Boys always eat well," she nodded.

Both rose and brushed the sand from their clothes. As Wendy walked up the beach with Tiger-Lily, something in the sand blinked in the sunlight, catching her eye. Curious, she walked over and lifted the object with two fingers. It was oval-shaped, half the size of her palm, with two smaller holes at the narrower end. At first, she thought it a shell until she turned it over, realizing it was a scale. And given the beige colour she knew it was Belena's. It was smooth under her fingers, but not fragile. It seemed to be hard as iron, despite its gentle pearlescent gleam. "A scale of the golden dragon," Tiger-Lily said quietly and observed the object in Wendy's hand curiously.

The shaman approached, and eyed the scale in Wendy's hand. "A dragon's skin is strong like stone and cannot melt even in fire – especially around its mouth," he said slowly, while reaching out.

She handed him her find and he turned it over, then held it to the sun. "Of course," she commented. "Just imagine the heat in their mouths as they breath fire."

Panther stroked the scale. "It is from her mouth. Young dragons lose scales as they grow." He smiled. "A scale from a dragon brings its owner luck and protects him. This is what the Elders say." He gave it back to Wendy and closed her fingers around it. "Keep it. It will remind you of everything here when you return to your world."

Wendy sighed. "I don't think I will return home so quickly this time." She beamed at the Indian shaman. "But I will keep the scale as a reminder of my first encounter with real dragons." She put it into one of the two pockets of her nightgown, then she continued on her way with Tiger-Lily toward the wood's edge where Hook and Smee still sat side by side in the sands.

"So, you are not roasted like I thought you'd be," the pirate-captain grumbled, and Wendy giggled.

"No, neither literally nor figuratively." Her fingers played with the scale in the pocket of her nightgown, and then she got an idea. Turning towards the two Indians, she said softly, "I'll follow you soon." Tiger-Lily hid a smirk and winked at her, then vanished in the undergrowth of the wood.

Wendy's noticed Bumblyn, who had rolled himself into a tiny ball behind the two buccaneers and was snoring quietly in their shadow. Directing her attention back to Hook, she perceived that he was watching her strangely. Unsophisticated and inexperienced as she was, she did not notice that the midmorning sun now backlit the shape of her sweet, slender body through the white silk of her nightgown. Her chestnut brown hair swung in long waves around her, while her large dove-blue eyes shone with their inner light.

James found his mouth had gone dry. What he had managed yesterday evening – keeping a firm hold on his control – was about to fail him now. Yesterday he had been distracted from his desire in a good way by speaking with Wendy again and dancing with her. It had almost been as before, when she had been a child, even if he'd seen her changed appearance. But now, in the full light of the day, he couldn't shut his eyes anymore to the fact that she had – indeed – grown up, ready to be carried over the threshold into womanhood.

Heat rose from the depth of his being and spread beneath his skin. For a moment he could only stare, imagining pulling her down onto is lap and holding her close to explore those tempting soft curves with his left hand, tasting those strawberry lips for the first time – waking her up like Sleeping Beauty. For now he understood the title and its connection with the end of the fairy tale: The sleeping girl awoken as a woman because of the first real kiss. He was tempted to laugh about that metaphor that mirrored a future he wanted to have. But then he felt Smee's gaze resting on him, and he didn't have to look at his confidante to know that these old eyes were curious but also amused. It was enough to strengthen the composure in him again.

Breathing deeply and clearing his throat, he drew his knees closer towards him, making him grimace, because – really – there was much there to hide. He should certainly put some distance between himself and the girl, but this was out of question at the moment, so he waited to hear what she had to say.

Wendy had watched him. She saw him staring, getting lost in his thoughts, then moving as if he was uncomfortable, making a face, looking at the water, and finally she asked, "Is something wrong, Captain?"

He moistened his lips. Was there something wrong? He yearned to take her in his arms and to ravish her until they both touched the stars without the help of pixie dust. But this was something even a pirate shouldn't voice – not when he was an Eton man! He closed his eyes and dredged up a distant, musty memory that somehow was given free from the barrier Neverland's magic had woven.

Let us pause momentarily to see what James remembered.

He remembered …

He'd lived in a large home … he was home, and many of his young friends were visiting for the holidays, the men in one wing, the women in the other. (There were wings?) Yes, and many bedrooms. And a butler. Seevers. Stephens. No, SPENCER…

The young ladies were flighty, flirty, and called for service at all times, day and night. He had called Spencer to (his study?) one afternoon to thank him for his apparently tireless service. Then he'd asked the butler, "How do you do it, I mean, remain above the teasing of the ladies? The chambermaid has informed the rest of us that they sometimes wear only fluffs and furbelows, barely covering their bodies at all while on their wing, yet they never complain that you have behaved unseemly. What is your secret, Spencer? I truly admire your control."

The older man had looked at him with the barest hint of amusement on his older face. "Mr. Powell, whom I trained under first as a footman then in the dining room, warned me to never allow my eyes to wander below the nose, and to look them straight in their eyes while remaining calm." A rare grin flickered across his face. "You may need that manoeuvre someday, young sir."

And the images faded…

Suddenly Hook was back at the beach of Neverland. The warm wind combed through his unruly long curls, over him some seagulls screamed, and in front of him stood this sweet temptress he desired like no one else before.

'Her eyes only? When his body was screaming for satisfaction?'

And the man James won again over the pirate Hook. "No, nothing's wrong," he said and was surprised how hoarse his voice sounded. Smee grinned and shook his head; turning to look in the other direction. He had the same view as his commander, and you didn't need to be genius to know what was "wrong" with his superior! And for a moment he pitied the younger man, whose noble upbringing forbit him now what he longed to do.

Wendy frowned. The two were behaving oddly. "Hmmm," she said slowly, "could one of you gentlemen then please tell me what's wrong with me?"

"Nothing, my dear," Hook replied, forcing his eyes to look her straight in the face. "Absolutely nothing. You are perfect."

While Smee bit his lips to stop himself from laughing, Wendy blushed. Then she took a deep breath, and started again. "I just wanted to say, my mother always said, 'face your fears'." She pulled something out of her pocket. "Here, maybe this will help you leave the croc behind." She offered him a shimmering object he first took for a shell. Then, as he felt it between his fingers, he realized what it was.

"A scale?" he asked. Smee risked a glance at his master's hand, then looked away again.

"A scale from Belena, the dragon-girl. She lost it at the beach." Wendy smiled. "Great Big Little Panther told me it protects its owner and brings him luck. I don't know how it might protect you, but it maybe it could help you to drive away the crocodile's shadow."

The crocodile's shadow… It was an almost poetic description but it fit. He still shrank back whenever a lizard crossed his path. The croc had become a phantom, after all, it was dead, yet it haunted him like it had done when it had been still alive. Maybe he could leave this part of his past behind him with the help of the dragon scale. He turned it over in his hand, surprised by how smooth it felt, almost warm to the touch. Yet when pressed, it did not yield.

A scale from a dragon – there certainly were people who would kill to possess something like that. And Wendy simply gave it to him. It wasn't a treasure in the common sense, it wasn't even a jewel, yet it held a value far higher than gold or silver. It was a gift, given from the heart – and this was something that hadn't happened to him for … well, a very long time.

"Thank you, beauty," he murmured; a real smile rose to his eyes, again locked on hers.

Wendy smiled back. "You're welcome, Captain. And once again thank you for protecting me." Then she glanced at Bumblyn, rounded behind Hook and went down on one knee.

"Bumblyn, wakey-wakey," she said softly and poked her little friend carefully. With sleepy eyes, the Hobgoblin blinked up to her. Cooing softly, Wendy lifted him and held him close. "Come on, I'll take you back and then we'll have breakfast." She rose and glanced back at the two pirates. "Will the gentlemen accompany us?"

A shout reached them over the beach and Smee nudged his captain, still looking away. "As it seems, Sir, Akeele wants ter show ye sometin'."

Hook sighed. The prospect of walking with any dignity was not good. He suffered a rather manly challenge at the moment, rooted in the view Wendy had unconsciously provided. He was very grateful for the excuse the men gave him. "Go ahead, kitten," he said to the girl. "I've a captain's matter to attend to."

She nodded. "So it seems. Until later," she said and vanished in the underbrush. The hushed voices that followed almost immediately told them that Tiger-Lily had waited for her friend.

Sighing deeply, James rose and grimaced at the unpleasant feeling in the middle of his body. His breeches were presently quite tight, but the discomfort eased as he neared his men and the rest of the longboat.

"Cap'n, have a look, please," Akeele said barely Hook had reached them, and pointed at Mason, who crouched in the longboat – or what had been left of it. And now, seeing it closed up, it didn't look so bad anymore.

"Report, Mr. Mason," Hook prompted.

The homely gunman looked up and shoved his tri-corn-hat to the back of his head. "Cap'n, I don't understand s'much about wood as Mullins, but I'm sure he can repair it by usin' some barrel-staves." He rose and climbed out of the boat. "Most of t'e planks are intact, t'ree are broken like two of t'e rowin' banks. But t'e rest…" He gestured towards the damages.

Hook observed them critically and nodded. "You're right. This looks worse than it is."

"Yet Iron-Hand won't be able to travel in it." Great Big Little Panther had approached behind him. Hook snorted inwardly. 'Indians and their accursed moccasins! You could never hear them coming.'

Turning around he lifted both brows. "You're right." He nodded towards the broken longboat. "Any chance that two of my men can borrow one of your canoes to row to the Jolly Roger? We need to speak with the men aboard to be picked up."

The shaman nodded. "This will be done. I will tell two of our warriors to bring one canoe ashore."

"Thank you." He was about to turn his attention back to his men, but the copper hand on his right arm stopped him.

"Great Big Little Panther must speak with you."

One look at the grave face of the shaman and Hook knew that something serious was up. "Stay here, men," he ordered and followed the Indian, who led Hook a stone's throw up the beach, where he stopped. He took a deep breath and fixed the captain's eyes with his, and came right to the point.

"Ayden, as he is called, has told me that invisible eyes are watching Neverland – and Great Big Little Panther has sensed a change in the wind for several days now."

"Invisible eyes?" Hook frowned; remembering Smee's words only moments before. "Smee mentioned earlier that the clouds looked like eyes," he murmured.

"Indeed?"

"Yes," James nodded slowly. "You could see shapes of eyes if you used your imagination, and so I dismissed it as fantasy." He glanced up into the blue as did Great Big Little Panther, but the clouds were simply that: Clouds. "Do you think that oversized lizard exaggerated?"

"Dragons have fine senses – better than ours. What the firebreath and the bearded old man said actually agree. If he says Neverland is watched from the outside, I believe him."

Peter Pan landed in a thumb beside them, his feet making shallow prints atop the white sand. He was dripping wet and threw a few blond locks off his forehead, while the other boys still played along the waterline. "Is something wrong?" he asked. As he met the Indian's glance, he added, "You look concerned – and Hooky here, too."

Great Big Little Panther took a deep breath. "Little White Eagle watched us closely and is right. Yes, something happened. The firebreath told us Neverland is watched. And the white-bearded friend of Iron-Hand saw the clouds forming eyes."

Peter frowned. "Clouds like eyes?" The boy glanced at Hook. "Is Smee already drunk?"

The captain ignored him, continuing to look at the shaman. "You said you felt a change in the wind. When I talked to Niam, the fairy-queen, day before yesterday, she said the same. It was the same time Pan left the island so, of course, the wind was changing. It became bloody cold, but when I told her so, she replied she was speaking of something that is reaching out for Neverland."

Alarmed, Great Big Little Panther and Peter looked at him. "Something is reaching out for Neverland?" the boy demanded; the playful child in him retreating as he saw danger rising.

"Or someone," the Indian murmured.

The captain nodded slowly. "Yes. She thinks it has to do with … mankind, is how she put it."

Peter's playfulness melted completely away. Beside the two men now stood the Prince of Neverland – fighter and protector for the magical island. "Ayden thinks Neverland is watched and Smee thought the clouds looked like eyes. Eyes of whom – and from where is the island watched?"

"These are questions we must find the answers for," the shaman replied.

"The mermaids," Hook suggested, still speaking to the shaman. "If something is up, they'll know it first. They knew about S'Hadh first, and they are aware of everything that has to do with magic or with the Mainland."

"I can ask them," Peter offered.

"It would be the first reasonable thing you did today," the pirate mocked without looking at the boy.

Peter blinked. "What crawled up your back?" he asked bluntly; having enough of being ignored.

Hook finally turned to the boy and glared at him. "An impertinent bigmouth whose brain is too small to comprehend the simplest things, then covers it up with insolence and arrogance!" he snapped, eyes narrowed.

Gaping, the boy could only stare at him. "Wha-a-at?"

"Like I said: A brain too small to comprehend the simplest things … such as the notion that laughing about other people's fears could cause offense!" As he saw Peter's glance wandering to his metal claw, he added with a snarl, "Don't you dare to make fun now, boy, or I'll forget myself and use this! And you know the consequences!"

Peter was taken aback. It seemed Hook was really furious. "Are you angry because I teased you about geckos and white mice, or…"

"Put it together yourself, Pan – that is, if your tiny mind can handle the challenge," the buccaneer growled. "And now shut up and go play somewhere while the grownups are talking!"

Brusquely, Hook turned away from him and concentrated at Great Big Little Panther again, who watched both with wary eyes. Taking a deep breath, the captain tried to calm down and address the shaman as peacefully as possible, "It seems to have started a few days ago and now increases. We have to get more information."

"I agree," the Indian said. "Iron-Hand should send for a few more of his men, and until they are here, we must search out more answers."

Hook cocked his head, thinking something through. "I think it best if we move the Jolly Roger to this bay. Then the whole crew will be close and we can repair the longboat here rather than towing it all the way around the island."

Usually, this bay was used by the Indians and Pirate's Cove was Hook's territory – something both groups respected, even when they had still been enemies. But the captain's suggestion made sense. "Iron-Hand speaks well. Neither he nor we know what is going on, and to waste time getting reinforcements might prove dangerous. Your large canoe can stay here for a while," he decided. Then he glanced at Peter, whose was seething, face flushed with anger while he glared daggers at the pirate. He sighed inwardly. "We need to speak."

The crystal blue eyes of the eternal boy narrowed. "If this is about the codfish, then-"

"Come with me, Peter," Great Big Little Panther interrupted him, and because he used the boy's English name instead of the Indian one, Peter relented.

"Alright," he grumbled, shot another angry glare at Hook and followed the shaman down the beach…

*** PP *** PP ***

"That was a mistake!" Mary Darling was setting the table for dinner. With Liza being sent away, it was up to her to prepare a meal.

"To what do you refer?" her husband asked; folding the newspaper he had tried to read three times without success. His mind was elsewhere. "Letting Wendy stay in this house longer than two nights so that that accursed boy had the chance to woo her away again? Or not watching her room, so that we would have been able-"

"I'm talking about giving Viscount Ashford her diaries – and putting her under all that pressure," Mary interrupted him.

"What pressure?" George looked with large, uncomprehending male eyes through his spectacles at her; absolutely clueless.

"The pressure you and Millicent piled on Wendy, going on and on about a husband and marriage. She isn't ready to take such a large step and-"

George lifted a hand. "Love, I already told Wendy at the ball that she didn't have to agree to any serious offers the viscount might make. I was ready to call that whole night off, if you take a moment to remember. But Wendy danced with him frequently, and was obviously enjoying-"

"Was obviously distracting him from Victoria!" Mary revealed. When she saw the flabbergasted expression of her husband, she had mercy on her obtuse husband and took a deep breath. "Victoria and the young reporter the viscount asked to our table – they are … close."

Now she had George's full attention. "What?"

The kind-hearted woman rolled her eyes. "If you had paid any attention, you would have seen the way they looked at each other – or the glances they were giving one another. And, by the way, sitting side by side, they were far too relaxed together to be strangers."

Her husband sighed. "Mary, I had to converse in small talk with two noblemen, and listen to the chattering of Lady Catherine and Millie! Forgive me if my mind was otherwise occupied." He took a deep breath. "Of course I … I realized yesterday that Wendy isn't happy with the prospect of being courted. I don't know if it's due the viscount's personality or some another problem. But I did come home earlier today to speak with the young man, and ask him to take it slowly. Of course I wouldn't press my daughter into a relationship she doesn't want." He made a face. "On the other hand, it really is time that she grows up – really grows up, I mean. On the outside she is a beautiful young lady who turns the heads wherever she goes. But on the inside, she is still the little girl who dreams of pirate adventures. This can't continue, or she'll remain unmarried. And you've seen what it's done to Millicent."

Mary paused in her preparations and sat down across from him; Nana lay in front of the open fireplace, watching her master and her mistress warily. "I understand your worries, George. And I agree when you say that Wendy has to leave her childhood behind soon. But to demand from her to give up her little dreams and to marry in one step is just too much. It frightened her away – just like the last two times you and Millicent tried to force her into a role she is not ready for. Then, she was only twelve, now she turns eighteen in a few months, yet she is still so young. She has certainly matured at Roedean, but…"

"But still she would rather run away with a boy who is what? Ten? Twelve? This is madness, Mary. Yes, I understand that they are friends, and traveling to a mystical island where she had adventures during her childhood is certainly very appealing for her after she felt… pressured, as you called it. Yet we both agreed after her last adventure that the island is a dangerous place – very dangerous. Viscount Ashford is right when he says that children have a different sense of how to handle risks – which means as good as none! But Wendy is mature enough to realize that she gambles with her very life there." He shook his head and rose to get himself a rare before-dinner drink. "No, I did the only right thing when giving the viscount the diaries. If he really has a chance of getting her back – her and the boys – I'll be grateful to him for the rest of my life."

Mary shook her head slowly. "I understand your motives, George, but have you ever thought of what the viscount could do to this mystical land?"

Mr. Darling had prepared himself a shot of Scotch, and glanced questioningly at his wife. "What do you mean?"

"As far as I've understood Neverland, it has a fragile balance. Peter Pan is essential for this balance. Wendy mentioned in her books that winter encases the island when he isn't there or that the weather depends on his moods. What if the viscount does something rash and Neverland-"

He rolled his eyes, sighing. "Don't get me wrong, Mary, but I really do not care what happens to this … blasted island. It's our children I'm worried about – our own three and the adopted ones. I fear for Wendy. You heard the viscount. There are dragons! Every child knows about the legends that these … these beasts eat grown girls and young women – virgins. And Wendy fills that description completely." His eyes were suddenly piercing, his voice intense. "I really don't understand how you can think of the well-being of an island, some fairies and this ridiculous growth-inhibited boy when our daughter's life may be at stake! Right this moment! As we are speaking!"

Mary frowned. "Peter Pan has always protected his friends – even against an invading dark wizard. And as far as I can judge his behaviour towards Wendy, I think the boy has a simple crush on her. Do you really believe he would put her into danger?"

"He's a child – without parents, without nurture and careless enough to risk the health of our children not once, but now three times!" He emptied his glass with one gulp, then wheezed.

"But…"

"I don't want to hear anything further about it!" he shouted hoarsely. "I'm glad that Viscount Ashford is determined to start a rescue mission. And if he wants Wendy's hand in marriage afterwards, I'll agree!" He slammed down the empty glass, fixing his wife in his glare.

"So much about not pressuring her into a relationship she doesn't want."

"Maybe she doesn't know what she wants!" George shouted, his anger talking now.

A door closed upstairs, and footsteps on the stair announced Millicent's arrival. She had planned to leave that afternoon, but changed her mind after everything that had happened. She had offered to stay one or two days longer, and her brother accepted. And, in his opinion, this was the best he could have done, seeing that his beloved wife seemed to have somehow lost her grip on reality.

"Don't let us talk further about it. I want to have dinner in peace and you know how Millie is," he murmured. "By the way, why did you give Liza the day off?"

"Because," Mary said slowly with a tight voice, "she did not want to face your frustration and Millicent's everlasting complaints." With those words she rose, turned and returned to the kitchen, not caring that her husband was staring dumbfounded after her. It was rare that they argued, but, it seemed, dispute had overcome the house the moment Wendy and her brothers flew out that window …

TBC…

Uh-oh, the Darlings are a bit short of domestic bliss. This happens to every family here and there, but in this case Mary is right. She is a very sensible woman and instinctively feels that something is off with Dalton Ashford – or with the fact that her husband gave Wendy's diaries to the viscount. Right, George's worry is understandable, because he doesn't know much about Neverland, yet to give his daughter's diaries away… uh, that's crass.

All because he fears for her safety concerning the dragons, but Mary's concerns are fare more realistic (snicker). Our dear captain really will have more and more problems to keep himself under control when 'his' storyteller is involved…

In the next chapter, Great Big Little Panther will have a heart-to-heart-talk with Peter, because he knows that 'Iron-Hand' and 'Little White Eagle' are going to need each other soon. And then there will be more Hook-Wendy – something that grows and grows slowly, but steadily.

I hope you liked the new chapter and, like always, I'm so looking forward to your comments.

Have a nice weekend,

Love

Yours Lywhn / Starflight