Dear readers,
Thank you so much for the reviews. Yes, John was quite a hero in the last chapter and he will mature more within the story. Yet he has to learn that he is – admittedly – the eldest Darling-son but not grown up enough to patronize his sister. And, boy, will he try to talk 'some sense' into her, but this is a case of the biter being bit.
And regarding the title of the chapter, you maybe already assume what will happen in this chapter (a beginning that leads to more).
A little disclaimer is this time necessary: the last part of the chapter refers to something that really exists.
Have fun
Yours Lywhn / Starflight
Chapter 14 – Of Thimbles and Kisses
The camp was buzzing with activity during the entire afternoon. The meat had to be separated, cooked or dried; the skins prepared for tanning. Tales of the hunt, of John's heroic deed and the 'Grey Beard's' help made the rounds to every member. Jukes and the others transported foodstuffs they'd gathered to the waiting longboats. Since they had made amends with the Indians, refilling the ship's pantry was much easier.
As the evening approached and the sun began to sink into the waves of the Never Sea, it became clear that the buccaneers would return to the Jolly Roger. Hook, Smee, Mason, Akeele and the others got their few belongings from the council hogan, and the captain checked the building one last time. There was a soft tapping at the door. "Come in, child," he called without interrupting his inspection.
Wendy slipped into the council hogan and tried to ignore her heart suddenly quickening as she looked at him. He'd slept here for two days and this knowledge made her nervous. It was so … intimate. Taking a deep breath, she said, "You're leaving?"
Did she sound … disappointed? Turning around, he met Wendy's sad eyes, and swallowed. He had no wish to make her sad, even if it proved that he indeed meant something to her. For truly, he didn't want to leave the island – not really. He didn't want to leave her. And this realization set him on edge. He was, after all, the captain of a pirate-ship, for pity's sake, and not some fool who led around by his demmed feelings!
"I'm sorry, my girl, but I've been away for three days, and I must be sure the Jolly Roger is still in one piece." He saw a hint of a pout on her lips, and the man (who wasn't ruled by his feelings) gave in to the urge to cheer her up. He winked at her, saying "You know the old idiom: When the cat's away, the mice will play."
"Oh, I'm sure that Billy Jukes and the others kept a watchful eye on the ship."
"Aye, a blurred one on the ship, and the other one on the rum barrel," he speculated.
Wendy smiled, then grew serious again. She knew that his duties were calling him, yet … she simply didn't want him to go. "What if you stayed for dinner and left afterward?"
"Knowing Indian celebrations, it would be very late, and I really have duties I must attend to," he replied, stretching out his hand to put two fingers under her chin. "Head up, beauty, I'm not out of the world, but only a short flight away on my ship."
She nodded with a sigh and lowered her head again. Watching her, he again became aware of the thin golden chain with the odd pendant. Taking it in his hand, he finally asked her, "Why do you wear an acorn as a pendant?"
Wendy smiled. "This is Peter's version of a thimble." She saw the raised eyebrow and explained, "When we first met, he said so many nice things about girls, not the usual rubbish that young boys say to girls. I said I wanted to give him a kiss and he promptly offered me his open hand. I realized just then that he didn't know what a kiss was, so I gave him the thimble I had in my hand from sewing his shadow back on."
"Sewing his shadow back on, Beauty?"
"Yes, it was too big for him that night, and he lost it, so I sewed it on." She giggled as she saw his astonished expression. "After I gave him the thimble, he wanted to return the 'kiss' and gave me this acorn. I fastened it on the chain and hung it around my neck. This is how the misunderstanding between a kiss and a thimble was born."
The pirate could only shake his head at the variety of magic about him. Children! So this is how the code had arisen between them, as she related the last time she stayed in Neverland – after the battle, when he wanted to scold her for her disobedience, the destruction in his quarters and so many other things. Of course he had been unable to stay angry with her and the scolding had become a proper conversation about many things. But that topic of the 'thimble' wasn't resolved. He had warned her that he would get his revenge for it – later, should he ever meet her when she was grown. Well, here she stood, but he felt reluctant to simply kiss her out of 'revenge' for her trick all those months (years?) ago. No, he would have his chance later. Yes, he knew it.
But for now, he wanted to learn more about this 'thimble-kiss' thing. Looking closer, he frowned, "It has a hole."
"Yes, from Tootle's arrow. He shot at me," Wendy answered casually.
"The boy did what?" he asked sharply.
"It wasn't his fault," she assured him. "Tinker Bell told him and the others a big white bird would fly over Neverland and Peter wanted them to shoot it. The arrow hit the acorn instead of my heart, so I survived. Curly told me later that Peter said 'his kiss' had saved my life."
Frowning, Hook pondered her words. "Just like your real kiss saved him later aboard the Jolly Roger," he mused, trying not to stare at her tempting strawberry lips. He took a deep breath and let go of the pendant. "Clever vixen, you really outwitted me then," he admitted. But there was no scorn in his voice; he had left this behind. He rather felt respect for her. It wasn't easy to outmanoeuvre him, but she had managed it. Then he remembered something else. "And Tinker Bell told the boys to …" He snorted. "And there she sat there, sniffling about Pan banishing her. Hah! No wonder – and she had the cheek to play the misunderstood little thing." He grimaced. "She played me, too."
"Yes, you have to be very careful around fairies. But now I think we're friends – she was even happy to see me again."
'Of course, first you saved the brat's neck and now you aren't a rival anymore. You're too mature for Pan. The little insect knows this, so she can be nice to you. The only one who is blind to this is Pan.'
"Cap'n, we're ready ter go, and the dignitaries of t'e tribe be expectin' us." Smee's voice came from the entrance.
Hook sighed. "I'm coming." He gestured toward the door. "Miss Darling, after you."
Wendy grimaced. "Please, Captain, stop calling me that!"
He only smiled and followed her outside. A short time later he thanked the dignitaries of the tribe for their hospitality toward him and his men.
"You're really going now?" Peter asked surprised, as his former archenemy turned away from the chief and the wise man.
"Why not?" Hook answered casually. Because you don't want to leave your sweet storyteller behind, a part of him pointed out. Shut up! the pirate in him sneered.
"There's a big celebration this evening for John and Dark Owl. They're becoming blood-brothers," the eternal boy said with a proud smile – for John was one of his friends.
"Good for them," Hook shrugged nonchalantly. "I'll drink a toast to the brothers from aboard my ship with a good glass of wine." He looked at Wendy standing nearby, still unhappy. Good God, if he didn't harden his heart, he really would skip his intention to return to the ship. And then an idea formed in his mind. Closing the distance to her, he said, "Don't look so crestfallen, little one. I almost believe you're going to miss me."
"I will," she answered simply, ignoring the boys' various reactions.
"Then perhaps you will remember the promise you made." Hook laid out the bait.
The girl blinked. "Promise?"
"To show me this new dance – um, the waltz."
All the Lost Boys stared at Wendy. She promised to show him what? The memory of her offer made her smile. "Yes, of course. I will be there soon, alright?"
"I hold you to your promise," he answered with the tiniest of a smile, and bending, he tapped her button nose, which made her flush. "Behave – for once," he told her.
"Captain, I always behave," she protested.
"You … behaving – that's a good prank, kitten," he scoffed good-naturedly, knowing this would spike her temper.
Propping her hands on her hips, she glared at him, making him grin. Ignoring the glances around her, she replied, "Said the pot calling the kettle black."
He chuckled; he loved to tease her. She always had a witty comeback to his comments, and he adored her for it. And there she stood in front of him, a girl in the body of a young woman, warming his blood until it was about to burn him. Dammit! This desire always flared up when expected it the least! He cleared his throat. "I'm a pirate. What's your excuse?" As she only narrowed her eyes at him, his smirk broadened. Ah, this fire…! "I thought as much – no reply."
"I'm only too polite to give tit-for-tat this time. After all, I am a lady."
That made him laugh out loud. "You're a lady just like I'm a gentleman."
Lifting both brows, she gave him one of her very special glances, together with a bright smile, making his breath hitch. "You boast about being a gentleman, but I know that I'm a lady. That's the difference. And about that 'excuse' you asked for, you-"
It was too much. The discussion about thimbles and kisses, the bantering, her annoyed amusement, the evening glow of sun that danced on her hair, her large eyes, her pouting lips, the approaching separation … Before he knew what he was doing he cupped her neck with his left hand and pressed his mouth against her forehead – just like he had done when she flew back to London the last time. Or like the quick peck he had given her in the Mount-of-no-Return, when he thought he was going to die and allowed himself one last wish. Yet this was different. This was not an innocent gesture of good-bye to a little girl, there was more. He yearned to pull her in his arms and to taste her mouth, but he didn't dare to do so, or there would be no stopping. And you didn't need much imagination to guess the reaction from the boys, especially Pan and John!
It was so like the other times he gave into this gesture – all these months (years?) ago, after the fight against S'Hadh. Her skin was smooth and warm, and tasted of honey, clear water and … Wendy. Nothing had changed. He felt his heart pounding as his memories were released. He breathed deeply into the smell of her thick hair, felt the soft rippling of goosebumps on her neck beneath his fingers, and lifted his head before he really did go too far.
"Until next time, Miss Crabby," he whispered. The sight of those dove blue eyes was almost his undoing. His pulse ran, his guts tightened, the urge to press her against him was about to overwhelm him. Quickly he turned around and walked away before denial became impossible. With long strides, he headed towards his men, who had been watching him. "Dogs, what are you waiting for? We return to the ship!" He sounded arrogant and demanding in one – a shield against his longings, nothing more.
Wendy stood there open mouthed and stared after him; her heart was thumping, the spot where his lips had touched her forehead was burning. Had he just kissed her? She gulped as there was suddenly a strong clenching in her belly, heat beneath her skin – and … and increasing sorrow to see Hook's tall figure vanishing down the forest-path, never looking back once.
"Did he just give you a thimble?" Peter demanded; eyes blazing.
"No, he shut me up in his own way because he was running out of decent arguments," Wendy said absent mindedly, completely unaware of John's alarmed expression …
*** PP ***
"Stop flirting with him!" John's voice was quiet, but sharp.
Wendy was doing her hair for the ceremony she and the others would attend. She turned to look at her brother, flabbergasted. John, Nibs, and Slightly were almost ready to leave the tent to return to the other boys to prepare for the ceremony.
"Beg pardon?" she asked, puzzled. Her mind had been whirling since Hook's departure, and logical thought was not forthcoming. Her fingers, too, were not obeying her and her hair was taking longer than it ever had before.
"You heard me!" her brother shot back, face stern. Since the pirates had left the camp, John had been tightlipped, giving her unusual glances. And just this moment, something seemed to explode in him.
Wendy blinked shortly, then she shook her head. "Are you daft? Peter and I always …"
"I'm not talking about Peter!" John interrupted her, still glaring.
Now she was at a loss. "Not Peter? But who -"
"Don't play dumb, Wendy, it doesn't suit you," John snapped.
"He's talking about Hook," Slightly added, sitting with Nibs nearby and attempting to remove the paint from his face and arms.
"Hook?" Wendy gaped at the three. The four were alone together in the tepee. "Did you just say I was flirting with him?" she asked her brother, who crossed his arms in front of his chest, and nodded. "We tease each other, we bicker-"
"He kissed you," John growled.
Alright, yes, Hook did that, but… "It was a good-bye-kiss, John – just like the one he gave me in the Mount-of-no-Return, or after I saved him from the trolls – or like the last time I told him good-bye when we returned home. It's-"
Her eldest brother didn't let her finish. "You got three good-bye-kisses from him? I only knew of one."
Wendy sighed. Well, three good-bye-kisses and one as 'revenge' for her 'thimble-trick', and that he would 'get his real revenge should he meet her as a grownup.' And deep down she knew what he meant – a real kiss. Promptly her heartbeat increased, and she was almost grateful that John's fuming distracted her from the strange feelings that had awoken by the mere thought of … of … such a thing.
Her brother shook his head. "But the other thing you said makes the difference. Last time we were here, you were still a little girl – now you're a grown woman."
Impulsively Wendy shook her head; still not ready to admit her new state. "You're crazy! I may have grown a couple of inches, but-"
"Like it or not, but you are grownup and it's only because Peter denies it that he doesn't see it, too. Hook, au contraire, sees it very well, just like a few of the older braves here and-"
"John, you are not speaking logically! Captain Hook teases me, he pulls my leg just like I do it to him. Yes, he gave me a peck, but…"
"There's nothing a bit logical about it! He devours you with his eyes," her brother cut in, remembering a very apt phrase he'd heard in London.
"Eyes blue like forget-me-nots," Nibs piped up, jabbing Slightly in the side.
John shot him a glare, then continued, "He danced with you-"
"I didn't know that dancing is suddenly forbidden to either of us! As far as I know, Aunt Millicent is more than eager to send me to every ball possible!" Wendy snapped, growing irritated.
"Yes, because dancing is one of the oldest ways to court a mate," he answered. "It's like the birds are doing and-"
"She once was called the 'Wendy-bird'," Slightly snickered.
"Could you two just shut it?" John hissed impatiently. "I'm trying to prevent our sister from giving herself to one of the most dangerous men in the world, who would love to … to have his way with her." He was clearly struggling with his words as he cheeks again reddened.
Wendy straightened, ignoring the soft prickling on her forehead where she still felt his lips. "I don't know what you mean by 'having his way with me,' and I certainly don't understand why all of sudden you are upset because Captain Hook and I are joking. But one thing I know perfectly well: This. Is. None. of Your. Business!" Her eyes flashed, her own face now pink.
"I'm the oldest of your brothers and our parents certainly count on me to keep you out of trouble."
"So, joking is trouble? You sound just like Aunt Millicent. And, by the way, I don't need anyone to keep me out of trouble. I'm capable of doing just fine all by myself." She was advancing from irritated to angry.
"You're capable of leaping straight into a pool of hot water," John shot back, and took a deep breath to collect himself. "Wendy," he started again, trying to sound calmer. "I'm not sure how much you learned up until now at that expensive school about what goes on between a man and a woman, but, believe me, your way of dealing with Hook is … is getting his hopes up."
"His hopes?"
John groaned. "Wendy, you're of age by law for over a year now. You've turned into a young, but certainly beautiful woman – and Hook is a man. A man, who is lonely and who already acquired a very soft spot for you when you were a child. Now he even runs after you to protect you from a dragon, struggling against his own deepest fears of facing a scaled monster. And-"
"Who told you about his fears?!" Wendy demanded and rose. "Who are you to invade his privacy?" She was not aware of how protective she suddenly sounded. But the three boys heard it.
John grimaced. "You don't have to be a genius to figure that out." He glared at his sister, frustrated. "But your reaction tells me plenty!"
"What does it 'tell' you?" Wendy almost growled.
"You defend him with teeth and claws – and surely not out of motherly instincts!" He took another deep breath. "I'm sure that your heart beats faster, that you feel all warm inside, your stomach flips over, and that your all your senses are stronger when he is around and you two … bicker, talk, whatever."
"Is that how you feel when Tiger-Lily is near?" his sister jibbed.
"Yes," he nodded seriously, which earned him surprised looks. "That is exactly what I feel when she is near me. And I'm certain that it is the same for you when a particular pirate-captain is near. And I'm damned sure that you are still all mixed-up inside after his 'good-bye-kiss'." He saw her blushing and knew that he had hit the nail on the head. "Be careful, sister, will you? He is an experienced, full-grown man, and it's as clear as the skies on a sunny day that he … has feelings for you. Feelings he still has under control – I have to give him that. But for how long? I saw his face as he kissed your forehead and afterwards. He's burning for you, and I fear that this fire will catch you both in its heat. And what then?"
Wendy's mouth had gone dry. "What … do you mean with 'the fire will catch us both'?"
John sighed; it was obvious that he knew far more about the "birds and the bees" than his older sister, and no wonder. He lived at a boarding school full of boys, many who were older than he. Whether he tried or not, he did catch phrases and conversations and jokes enough to get a picture of what happens between grownup men and women. And then there were the postcards … His own physical reactions to the stories and to girls were an education in themselves. But Wendy was still a complete innocent – or ignorant. Maybe both. "You admit that you feel warm inside when you speak with him," he said carefully, and as Wendy tentatively nodded, he said with a small wince, "This warmth can grow until you think you're on fire – not in a bad way, mind you, but still…" He sighed. "I'm sure that this is already true for him, and knowing your fondness for him …"
"Hey!"
"… I fear that you will fall for him," John ended his sentence.
Wendy blinked again, but didn't know what to say. This burning John spoke of … She, indeed, felt it as he gave her the kiss on the forehead.
"She already did fall for the Codfish," Nibs whispered as he saw his sister flushing, and exchanged a look with Slightly, who only smirked. The special bond between pirate-captain and storyteller was nothing new – only now it was intensifying.
Wendy stared at John, not ready to listen to the whisper of the inner voice – that her brother just might be right. The relationship between Hook and her had changed, she had seen this. But what John implied was … surely, laughable at best.
"John, he's a grown man only a few years younger than our father. I'm not even eighteen. Do you really think a man like him would consider a young thing like me as … as …"
"As a lover, a mate, a wife?" John added. He saw how her whole face reddened, and groaned again. 'Nibs is right, she's already falling for Hook. Well, no surprise here.'
"John, that is ridiculous," Wendy all but squeaked.
"No, it's a real possibility," he replied, before he bent to retrieve his bandana with the three feathers he would wear for the ceremony. "I know I can't prevent you from seeing him again – after all, this is an island and he lives here just like Peter and the others do. But please be careful. Even if he protected you – again – and strives to be a gentleman, he is also very dangerous. And now in another way more than ever before." He moved to face her and cupped her hot cheek with one hand. "I don't want to see you hurt."
Wendy gulped, feeling utterly confused now. "Do you really think he would hurt me?"
"Not intentionally. He's far too fond of you to do anything rash. He even forgave you the demolition of his cabin. But your heart can be 'pierced by a sword,' as Simeon told Mary in Luke's book, so … be careful, alright?" He laid the hand on her shoulder, squeezed it, and left the tepee.
Wendy stared after him, shocked, irritated, mind again awhirl. "My heart?" she murmured. "Where have I heard that before?" If Bumblyn had been there, he would be able to answer this question, but the little Hobgoblin was outside where the women were cooking, hoping to snatch something edible before dinner.
Nibs and Slightly watched the girl sympathetically. She turned to them. "Do you agree with him?" she asked.
The two boys only collapsed onto each other in snickers, and sighing deeply, the girl returned to her hair, deeply lost in thought …
*** PP ***
The ceremony in which John and Dark Owl became blood brothers might have come straight from one of John's books. They stood face to face, clad in leather decorated with wooden beads, painted faces. Chief-Rain-in-the-Face and Great Big Little Panther stood on both sides as the boys faced each other; all raised their hands skyward in prayer (John copied what Dark Owl was doing.) The boys exchanged belts, John's sleek black leather with the silver buckle and Dark Owl's beaded and tooled leather with the fringe. (John had offered to exchange his glasses, but it seems owls don't need them, they just look like they do.) They exchanged weapons – John gave his folding knife, Dark Owl his sheathed blade with the bone handle. With these, exchanges, they declared to all that what belonged to one belonged to the other, the enemy of one was the enemy of the other.
Panther then took Dark Owl's blade and made the cut below John's right thumb, and the blood welled up and flowed across his hand. He then took the folding knife and mad the cut by Dark Owl's thumb. Neither boy even winced, both staring into the other's eyes. Gunpowder was then rubbed into the wounds to mark them permanently.
They then joined hands and wounds, bloods mingling, while Great Big Little Panther wrapped a strong leather strap around the two joined arms and raised both hands over their heads. "Your blood is one, your lives are woven together in the bonds of life. From now on you are brothers in soul and blood!" the shaman said solemnly.
Loud whistles and whoops, with ululations – the Indian way of cheering – echoed through the air, while heads were thrown back, fists with weapons were lifted and the sound of drums increased. And then the men danced vigorously, for both boys were now regarded as full warriors.
Wendy sat beside Peter, and both cheered along with the other boys. Tiger-Lily's smile could have brightened the darkest night and her mother proudly placed a hand on her shoulder. But Wendy's thoughts were elsewhere – aboard a certain pirate-ship whose captain she already missed. Did this mean that John was right – that she was falling for Hook?
Rubbish!
He was the villain of her stories turned into something like a dark knight with many forbidden secrets. Danger accompanied him wherever he went. He was no longer her foe, for their alliance was rooted in the battle they all fought together against the dark warlock a few years ago. For this she was grateful, and she had found a harmony with him. That. Was. All!
Yet something had stirred in her the moment she met him again, just like John described, as if an unknown part of her had awoken by his immediacy. A something she had already begun to feel when she had still been a child. A something that was whispering to her – now – about denial and blindness…
Later that night, Wendy lay in the tepee with a sleeping Peter and all of the lost boys. Once again, the girl found herself unable to turn off her thoughts. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw his face in front of her, blue eyes intense and burning with something she didn't understand.
'He already acquired a very soft spot for you when you were a child …' John's voice echoed in her mind, and she had to agree with him on that detail. Hook had helped and protected her during their last big adventure, lent her his shirts and his stockings, kept her warm and defended her against the harpies, getting wounded in the procedure. And he, indeed, forgave her for turning his quarters into a battlefield.
'He missed ye,' Billy Jukes had said. 'He's head over heels fer ye…'
"Fiddlesticks," Wendy whispered into the dark, and bit her lips, as she remembered the words of another pirate,
'Sweet'eart, ye've wrapped t'e cap'n around yer li'l finger.'
True, he let her get away with more she ever thought possible. And he smiled at her, danced with her, wrapped her into a blanket and carried her to her bed last night, but presuming that he had … well… 'feelings' for her was crazy. In his eyes she certainly was still the little girl he had to protect, and nothing more. And out of nowhere the last thought bothered her.
'Ye're still naïve, sweet'eart,' Jukes' quip ghosted through her thoughts.
'I'm not naïve, only realistic. Hook is a grown man and I'm…' She frowned. What exactly was she now? Yes, she had grown. And at seventeen she was, indeed, of age, legally able to marry according to a change of law in 1885 (in earlier times 13 was the age of consent). But deep inside she was still the little girl who loved to play and dream of adventures – wasn't she?
Adventures…
When she was younger, adventures had been in the re-telling of stories like Cinderella, Snow-White and Sleeping Beauty. Her heroines had fought against witches, scoundrels and pirates – the most dangerous of all those opponents had been Hook. But how had her favorite villain put it? They – the stories – all end with a kiss. Even with her wildly imaginative changes, all those fairy tales had been about two lovers fighting alongside one another toward their happy ending, sealed with … well … a kiss.
She had hoped for this with Peter. It had been difficult for her to recognize that even after a few shy kisses they shared the last time she had been in Neverland, her childhood sweetheart would never change. He would never grow up, while every year, she had to blow out an additional candle every birthday. And with every new candle her point of view had changed – slowly but steadily.
She still loved Peter. She would always love him, but this love had changed, too. It was a warm, deep affection, mingled with a new impulse of protection and amusement concerning his immature way of handling everything. But the burning John spoke of wasn't there.
Burning…
Now, as she touched the spot on her forehead where Hook had given her this good-bye-kiss, she remembered how warm his lips had felt – just like his hand during the dancing, or his whole body when she had embraced him from behind to soothe his troubled soul while facing the dragon. And another point of reference: the odd reactions of her own body during the last two days whenever she saw him, or drew near him. The tightening in her stomach, the leap of her heart, the tingling all over her skin… And another thing she had grown aware of: she felt his presence stronger than ever before.
'You dream of me?'
'Does that surprise you, Jill?'
No, it shouldn't surprise her. They had been through a lot together. And she had dreamed of him, too – a lot. And those dreams had become more intense over the years, accompanied by strange sensations.
So, a few things had indeed changed. She could still talk with him easier than anyone else (maybe except for Victoria but that was another matter). He was a formidable listener and didn't dismiss her thoughts as insignificant like others would do.
'I prefer an intelligent woman over a pretty doll with no mind.'
There! He had referred to her as a woman. But could this mean that John was right – that Hook indeed saw a woman in her? And if so, what could this mean? It would change a lot, certainly, yet the thought that he could have 'feelings' for her was… silly.
'Don't let John's stupid idea get the better of you,' the voice of the child in her warned. 'You're back in Neverland, and here nothing changes – not, if you don't want it to. Here you can be the girl that has adventures the others at home could only dream of. Here are your friends, here are no rules, corsets and gossiping old ladies. There's no one courting you and trying to force you into a boring life. Here you're free – and John is only overreacting because he faced his first heart-pounding flirtations with Tiger-Lily.'
Satisfied that she'd figured everything out, Wendy turned around, pulled the blanket higher and closed her eyes, sleep finally finding her.
Yet strong blue eyes followed her into her dreams, while warm lips ghosted over her forehead, accompanied by the rough tickling of a moustache and strong fingers cupped firmly behind her neck…
*** PP ***
Wendy wasn't the only one who had trouble of falling asleep. The man who had inspired the sister/brother conversation and had fully occupied a certain young lady's mind (again) lay wide awake in his cabin until late in the night, staring at the dark ceiling above him. The last few days gave him a lot to think about, and finally, when half the night had passed, fatigue got the better of him. But Wendy Darling – Red-Handed Jill – followed him into his dreams…
Hook woke the next morning to bright sunshine. Noises on deck made it clear that the crew had already started the day. And as he turned over, he saw that breakfast was served. So, Smee had been here and he hadn't wakened? Unbelievable! He could usually hear the grass grow, even in sleep.
Rising, he went to his personal water closet, passing Short Tom on the way. The ugly, almost featherless parrot croaked softly, and James said almost kindly, "Shut your beak," answered by typical parrot laughter. The bird felt the peaceful mood of its master. Bathing himself properly for the first time in two days, Hook sat down at breakfast; only wearing his breeches. He knew Smee would stop by as soon as his morning duties as were completed, and help him prepare for the day. While buttering two of a few slices of cornbread, his thoughts flew like homing pigeons to the events of the last few days.
The first issue: Neverland was being watched – and therefore his ship, too. A disturbing thought, that someone wanted to 'reach' for the island made him uneasy. The last time this happened, he and all the others survived 'by a hair's breadth'. His imagination easily conjured the picture of a grasping, long-fingered, taloned hand. A witch's hand …
The second issue: the visions he'd had concerning Wendy before she returned to the island. He was convinced that the island 'being watched' and the visions he had were connected, and he also felt in his bones that the solution to these two riddles would be the answer to the advancing troubles. And there would be trouble. Whenever Peter or the sweet madcap was involved, the next hitch wasn't far away.
And the third issue: he couldn't take his mind off the girl now changed into a young woman. It had been only a few days ago that he had rebuked himself for thinking of her in a forbidden manner, still assuming her to be a child. (Not that manners had a thing to do with how he was thinking of her.) The last time she had stayed in Neverland had made him guess what she would look like as a woman, and those dreams had haunted him since then, even though he still thought her to be too young. Yet he had yearned to see her again, even as a little girl. He had hoped his feelings would resolve themselves, but – by carbonate of soda! – had he been wrong! Seeing her grown had released his desires and changed them into a barely controlled hunger – more than he had ever known before.
"So, she's back – and you burn like an open torch."
Hook started at the rough voice behind him, and looked over his shoulder. Esteban sat on the headboard, his feet bumping against the carved wood. In the broad light of day his grin was almost dazzling; his blue-green eyes sparkled with mischief and good humor.
James made an angry face. "Will you ever learn to knock?"
The Klabautermann only laughed, then he shook his head, a theatrical expression of mock compassion on his tanned face. "Poor Blue-Eyes, this will cost you many sleepless nights, no matter if you stay awake trying to figure out how to conquer her … or if she lays in your arms."
"This is none of your business!" the captain snapped, wishing the bogey launched to the moon on Long Tom's cannonball. The Klabautermann came in handy often enough, but he really was getting on his nerves!
"Oh, it is," Esteban retorted and hopped from the headboard to the wooden floor, his little boots silent on the carpet. "The captain's welfare is important for the ship, so I must needs care for you."
"If it really is your intention, then leave me alone to get my day started," the buccaneer grumbled and turned his attention to his breakfast. He grimaced, as t the nyxx climbed onto the chair next to him, reaching for a slice of bread without asking. Well, after all he was the only one who was allowed to do so by tradition.
"What answers did the little lady with the white dress and the large, shining wings give you?" he asked slathering marmalade on a slice, oblivious to the large dollop that fell on the table.
Hook stared at the mess, shot Esteban a glare, and replied, "Niam said that time runs different in Neverland and the Mainland, just like you hinted. But that's not what worries me. She, Great Big Little Panther and that oversized lizard are convinced that Neverland is being watched and someone is 'reaching' for it." He poured himself a cup of fruit tea. Black tea had run out long ago. "Smee saw clouds forming eyes in the skies and the dragons – and Niam – spoke of a change in the wind. And I had visions concerning Wendy, which turned out to be true. Something is going on here, something big."
He became aware of Esteban staring at him, forgetting to chew. Then the sprite murmured, "And you – of all people – spoke with a dragon! And that after your long history with the crocodile." He looked at the captain with some awe.
"Not of my own free will," Hook snorted, "but after Miss Crabby had nothing better to do than running straight towards not one, but three dragons, only wearing her damn white nightgown, completely disregarding all the legends concerning these monsters and virgins, someone had to take action."
"And said someone was you – again. First a tidal wave, then harpies, now a dragon!" Esteban sighed and shook his head. The little tricorn-hat on his head bobbed, so he kept a hand on it – fingers full of marmalade. "Amigo, you really got it bad!"
"You don't say," Hook deadpanned, before he turned rigid. Had he just admitted that he had fallen for the girl – hard? Yes, he had. Oooooh, his reputation!
The Klabautermann began to snicker. "I knew it would happen as soon as she returned, knowing her to be grown up and you being so hot for her." He returned the piercing, almost threatening glare with an impish smile. "Now's your chance, amigo, you know this?"
"Do you think me daft?"
"No, but sometimes you be too noble for your own good." He stuffed the rest of the slice into his mouth and reached for the cup of tea, but Hook was quicker, holding it out of reach.
"Get your own teacup and don't smear mine with those sticky fingers of yours!" he growled.
Esteban only giggled. "I think, I prefer a good rum." He jumped onto the table and walked to the bottle of rum, kicking a knife to the floor and dropping additional marmalade on an unused plate, before the rest of the bread vanished in his mouth.
"Watch it!" Hook warned. He loathed disarray!
"What are you going to do about these … warnings the dragons and the fairy queen gave you?" the Klabautermann asked, ignoring the captain's rebuke and narrowed eyes.
"Pan, Great Big Little Panther and I discussed what might be going on here, but no success. The little crowned insect is tightlipped, the dragons are occupied with hatching their eggs and even the mermaids don't know anything special. In other words, we must wait until something actually happens." He shook his head. "I don't like it and … Would you leave something for me?" he hissed.
Esteban, who had gulped down most of the rum, wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his once white shirt and smirked at him, before he returned the cork. "Formidable," he said, putting the bottle back on the table. "Well, if you have to wait, this gives you plenty of time, amigo."
"Time for what?"
Spreading both arms out wide, the nyxx laughed, "To win your lady!" Seeing Hook rising with a threatening expression, he knew it was time to take his leave. With an "Adios, capitano!" he vanished with the well-known pop, and Hook let himself fall back on the chair.
"Damned little nuisance!" he growled and crossed his arms in front of his chest. No longer hungry, he rose and moved to the chair where he'd thrown his dark captain's coat before Smee helped him out of the rest of his clothes yesterday evening. Knowing he usually stuffed things into his pockets that he wasn't using at the moment, he emptied them before giving the coat to his bosun/batman to dust off.
Laying everything on the table – with a certain distance to the food tray – his eyes were caught by something glimmering. Frowning, he looked down and found the dragon scale Wendy had given him. Lifting it he examined it carefully. Its surface was even and felt quite smooth, but hard as granite. It became smaller at one side – obviously the part where it was usually attached to the skin. His gaze found the two little holes beneath it, while two little bulges were down on the other end of the scale. He assumed that this allowed the dragon to lay back his scales or to erect them to appear bigger and more dangerous – as if that creature would need such a trick!
Pursing his lips, James cocked his head as he thought of what to do with this special gift that Wendy gave him…
*** PP *** PP ***
Two flashlight beams, half covered by hands to dim the light, ghosted over the old tombstones, most of them erected during the medieval period. No longer straight, they had shifted with wind and weather, withered with brown moss and the scripts all but washed away by many autumns and winters. To Kenly Fulsom, not usually the imaginative sort, they looked like old giants' teeth. He shuddered under his thick coat.
"Lower the light, boy!" A quiet voice hissed, and both light cones pointed to the grass beneath booted feet.
Flashlights with dry batteries had been developed already 1887 and were improved ten years ago, making them more handy and lighter. Now the thin yellow beam danced over a low old stone wall, covered with ivy, and finally moved up to a short bell tower attached to a longer building. Fulsom's eyes widened.
"A church?" he asked fearfully. Beside him Bryanna Lunette stopped and only nodded; her eyes darting to the back door in the bell tower. Kenly gasped. "You want to break into a church?"
Unfazed, she looked at him. "Do you have some objection?"
When the housekeeper told him that she needed his help, he hadn't known exactly for what the old hag hired him for – or why they drove in the middle of the night to this little village called Frensham. But she had promised him extra pay and she was, above all, his employer's confidante. Doing her this favor could only be good for his employer's estimation of him, especially after he learned that the viscount approved this little night jaunt. Yet he hadn't thought that this 'service' included burglary!
"Madam, with all due respect, breaking into a church is—"
"-Is necessary at this time. No fear, lad, I don't intend to steal anything… sanctified." She moved on.
Shaking his head in disbelief and a strong instinct of guilt, Fulsom followed her. He was anything but prim, but to burgle a church made him edgy.
The old woman didn't go to the main entrance that was canopied with a little separate building made of stone, but headed to the bell tower. As they drew nearer, Fulsom saw a lower arched door in the middle of the bell tower and a large arched window above it. He recognized the church as Romanian style, possibly built somewhen in the 13th century. Lunette stopped in front of the wooden door and observed the lock in the light. "Easy," she murmured and pointed at the lock. "Break it off," she ordered.
Kenly grimaced. "Before I go further, please tell me what you want from here that requires us to break into that church in the middle of the night?"
She glanced up at him. "You can answer your question yourself: the people here will not give me what I need, so I must take it."
"Well, that's always the reason for stealing, isn't it?" he deadpanned.
Lifting both brows, Bryanna stared at him. "Dalton told me that you have loose scruples, and that you're the best for … risky jobs. Was he mistaken?"
Seeing his income in danger, Kenly replied, "No, Madam, the viscount was right. But a church …"
"What I need has nothing to do with the Christian religion, yet it is here. It's essential for the viscount's success and … ongoing good health."
"Health?" Fulsom blinked and was about to ask more, but as he met her stern, icy eyes he knew that he wouldn't get any more information. Sighing, he waved her aside, took a closer look at the lock, switched off his flashlight. She shone the light on the lock with her own lamp and he raised the pry bar.
A minute later they stepped into the bell tower that was separated from the nave by a shoulder high wooden barrier. To their left and right were two low banks, and in the glow of the flashlights, Fulsom saw the ropes for the bells, hung up on thinner ropes at the wall. A door led into the nave and he was relieved that it wasn't locked. Quietly they entered the larger part of the church. Banks made of chestnut stood in rows, carved in medieval style. The floor was covered with red and black tiles in a pattern of rhomboids and oblongs. Arched windows were along both sides and to the left near the apse of the altar he saw the keyboards of the organ, the pipes were half hidden behind a wooden grill.
Following Lunette deeper into the small church, he passed a holy water stoup which confused him. Was this a Catholic church? There was no odor of incense. Maybe the stoup was a relic from earlier times.
To his dismay, the Welsh woman crossed the nave, heading toward the altar, and Fulsom followed her with his heart sinking. Whatever it was she had come for, couldn't it be closer to the back door? Every moment here they were risking being caught, and the idea of jail had never appealed to him.
They passed the main entrance – an arched double door of red wood, and stopped beside the altar. Feeling increasingly uneasy to be here, Kenly glanced up at the crucifix and gulped, feeling as though the Lord's eyes were looking at him sadly and accusingly.
"There! That's what we came for," Lunette's whispered words startled him out of his thoughts. The beam of her flashlight illuminated something off to the right, just in the corner between the windows.
Kenly didn't believe his eyes. There, on an old rusty tripod, stood a huge ugly cauldron. A large cauldron like he could imagine in a witch's kitchen, holding a bubbling green potion. It seemed to be made of hammered copper, ancient, battered. It had to be three feet in diameter, a foot and a half deep – a rather large cauldron. One of those you would hang on a chain over an open fire in a massive fireplace. But … what was a witch's cauldron doing in a Christian church?
Lunette was staring at it with gleaming eyes, then quietly began to narrate: "This is Mother Ludlam's cauldron – a white which who lived in the 17th century and helped people by lending them her things for two days. But she was betrayed in the end by a man who didn't return her cauldron as he'd promised. She got angry. Fearing her vengeance, he hid the cauldron here, in this church, but her curse found him nonetheless. He died on the steps of the altar. Infuriated by the treachery, Mother Ludlam left her cave, so the people she once helped never saw her again. There is a saying that she only will come back when the cauldron is returned. But the cauldron has remained in this church since the night the thief brought it here." She pursed shortly her lips. "Well, her anger was logical on two counts."
"How so?" Fulsom whispered, not liking the story very much.
"She was betrayed. No one likes this. And a thief hates it when they're stolen from."
"I don't understand," Fulsom murmured.
Lunette turned her to look at Kenly. "She stole it herself – from the fairies. This cauldron is fairy-made and as such, even more powerful than if created by the witch. And now it is needed again, but not here." She moved towards the pot. "Help me carry it."
"You… you want to take this cauldron with you?" Kenly was flabbergasted. "And you need it for something that will heal the viscount – of what illness?" He returned her piercing gaze. "What are you? A witch?"
"I prefer the title 'wise woman'." She glanced back at the cauldron. "It is also linked to LLud – the Celtic god of healing, who came from my homeland."
"A Celtic god?" This sounded more and more crazy in his ears.
Bryanna smiled humorlessly. "Don't sound so shocked, boy. There was even a temple dedicated to him in good old London – a long time ago, when the town was enlarged by the Romans. Ludgate, the furthest northwest town gate, was near this temple, hinting at the meaning of the area, that it was sacred for the Celtic people, but Saxons and Romans ignored their warnings. You can still find his name today in London. Ludgate square, Ludgate Hill and Ludgate Circus for example."
"And he made this cauldron?" No, Fulsom hadn't really heard her around his surprised discomfort. He was eyeing the massive pot, wondering how to get it out of the church and into the car.
"Fool, I already told you it was made by the fairies. Mother Ludlam stole it from the fairies. She was known to be a white witch. The times during the religious wars in the 17th century were dangerous for Catholics and Puritans, not only magicians. So she left her village and found shelter in a cave between here and Charles Hill above the ruins of Waverly Abbey, where a healing spring remains today. Its water helped Dalton until now, but his condition is getting worse, just like that of his father."
The revelation that his employer suffered a mysterious illness was new to the young man. And, to be truthful, he'd never believed in fairies and witches. But obviously his employer and the housekeeper did. And how did the old saying go? "Whose bread I eat, whose song I sing." Well, if the viscount's 'health' depended on this ugly old thing, so be it – even if he felt revulsion about removing something from a church that been there for maybe two and a half centuries or more.
The cauldron was surprisingly heavy, even for a large pot made of copper. And it felt odd to the touch – warm, despite the damp chill in the old church.
"Be careful with the step at the altar," Lunette said. "We don't want you to become the second man who dies there." She took the tripod with her, while lighting the way for both of them.
As they left the church, fog was rising, as if the River Wey was reaching for them through the air. For Lunette it was welcome assistance, for the fog hid them from possible prying eyes in the dark. As they walked back the way they had come, an owl called, its large eyes staring fiercely down on the two thieves. Collecting itself, the owl took the air and silently glided past the two intruders.
Fulsom gasped, deeply startled. "Bloody bird!" he cursed, nearly dropping the cauldron.
"Begone!" Lunette hissed into the direction of the owl. It now watched them from the low graveyard wall; its eyes seemed to burn, a hoarse screech announced threateningly into the night.
"What is this?" Kenly asked hoarsely. That owl was … not normal!
"A stupid creature, nothing else," the housekeeper answered nonchalantly, then murmured something in Celtic Welsh. The bird felt itself being pushed away by an unseen force. It screamed again and flew to one of the old trees nearby. And as the two thieves stowed the cauldron and the tripod in the motor-car, manned the vehicle and sped back to the main street, a dozen and more little, almond-shaped eyes stared out of the frozen grass and the withered herbs of the field; their little greenish faces furious…
*** PP *** PP ***
In Neverland, the young Indian brave Dark Owl lay on his sleeping mat in the tepee of his parents. He was sweating and panting, awakened by a dream – no, a nightmare.
He was near an odd stone building with a long house (like the council hogan) and a tower (like at the dark building in the north, were Iron-Hand sometimes lived). He watched two palefaces – an old woman clad in black and a younger man with red hair – carrying something that looked like… like a pot and a separate ring with three legs. He knew that they had stolen those things – and this 'pot' was important. He felt anger from the living spirits around him, felt the fury of the green sprites of the fields, and without hesitation he followed the two palefaces through the fog, only to be hit with an invisible force that pushed him away.
He cried out; his own voice nothing more than a hollow screech. From the branches of a tree he watched the two thieves escaping in an odd cart that rolled on four wheels all on its own, a thing with two bright pale eyes, grumbling mutters and a bad smell. Then everything was quiet and dark again. Unable to stay in the shadow of the strange building any longer, he spread his wings which took him away to the narrow river he knew so well. He sat down on a stone to calm the fear that had arisen in him the force of the blow. Looking into the water, he first saw nothing – but then his face became clear. It was a flat feathered face with glowing eyes and a clicking beak in the center– the face of an owl…
With a gasp he was quickly awake, knowing that this hadn't been a dream, but a vision…
TBC…
Oh my, that chapy was 'loaded' with many things, don't you think so? How it came to misunderstanding between a thimble and a kiss had been explained to Hook (I still, he still adores Wendy for tricking him, after all not many people are able to do so). And, of course, he can't resist the temptation, even if it was more a 'tame thimble'. Yet it made in John all alert bells ringing. And while Wendy has to face John's worry, Hook has his own 'caretaker' who merciless teases him, the poor man. Well, Klabautermanns ARE bogeys, so it shouldn't come with a big surprise that Esteban pulls Hook's leg.
I also hope, my dear beta-reader Cheetah and I got the blood-brother-ceremony right. There are many traditions concerning this 'brother-making' and we decided on that one, because it doesn't leave a strong scar but only a kind of 'tattoo' (just imagine the Darlings when they see it, *laugh*). And promptly Dark Owl gets another vision. Like you maybe already guess, Dark Owl will have an important role in the story.
Who ask himself now what the matter with Mother Ludlam's Cauldron in the church: It really stands in the church of Frensham. The legend, Lunette refers to, belongs to the Surrey-folklore and if you like, you can google it to know what it looks like.
In the next chapter, you all, my dear readers, will learn how quickly the 'famous self-control' of the 'great James Hook' can be macerated. But a dancing-lesson with 'his' sweet wild kitten is enough to do the trick. A little forewarning: get yourself something cold to drink when chapter 15 is published.
For now I would be sooooo happy to get some more reviews.
Have a nice rest of the week,
Love
Yours Lywhn / Starflight