Hi, my dear readers!

I know, the last chapters were utterly emotional rollercoasters, and to prepare you, this continues in the next three chapters – after all, Ashford not only left a trail of destruction and death behind him, but also damaged the sensible balance of Neverland. Of course everyone is effected by it, even our usually so 'cool' pirate-captain.

In the new chapter you'll learn a little bit more about Neverland's magic and how it works. In the meantime Ashford and the others return to the manor, where Bumblyn meets the mysterious creature that hides in the shadows.

Have fun

Yours Lyhwn / Starflight

Chapter 32 – To the 'Real' World

All of the sentient beings who were gathered at the back of the Black Castle watched wide-eyed as the rarest of magical creatures on the island moved to join them: the unicorn and the fairy queen. Niam, whose dress still carried ash from the south, passed Hook (his face still flushed with rage) and gave him a reproving glare. 'Your manners leave much to be desired!' She ignored his scowl and flew to the dragons where she hovered before them. 'Milord, Milady, please excuse the man's rude behavior,' she said, indicating the captain, who managed to hold his tongue. 'While his actions are characteristic to his ilk, he also suffers deeply at the loss of his beloved mate, making him even more difficult. I sincerely wonder how the Wendy Lady could love him at all.'

Hook opened his mouth to protest. But even at that distance, he could see the heated glare from the fairy queen, so he shut it with an audible click; turning away with a snort. 'Queen' or no, he still saw her as an insolent insect in a dirty dress! And he didn't care if she could hear his thoughts!

"I understand, for I sense it. He lashes out at everyone in his pain," Alana replied. "As does my mate," she added, which earned her a snort with a few puffs of smoke. "It seems the celebrated male ego is the same in all of our kinds."

Ayden growled something deep in his chest that none could understand, and turned his head. Him? Lashing out? Ha, they should see him when SHE wasn't around!

Curly, Buffer and Runner turned to Nibs and John. "What's this about 'his mate'?" Curly murmured. "And now the queen says that Wendy loves him."

"Yeah! Does she really love him?" Runner whispered astonished, while the rest of the boys nodded questioningly.

Tink only rolled her eyes, John grimaced and Slightly grinned. Nibs answered, "Yes, they're in love – but don't tell Peter about it when we see him again. It's up to Wendy and Hook to explain."

"A prudent decision." The unicorn stepped forward and nodded respectfully to the dragons, who mirrored the gesture.

Niam now addressed Hook. 'Again, why do you assume you cannot leave Neverland?'

"Are you blind?" He glared, wondering if she were testing him. "BECAUSE we have sailed away in every direction dozens of times, but the next morning we found ourselves back in these waters!" The rest of the pirates all murmured in agreement.

'Yes. I watched your foolish useless attempts.' Niam smiled. 'Something bound you to the island – something more powerful than your wish to leave. Perhaps I should say: someone!'

And Hook began to understand. "Pan." His face soured another degree south.

'Yes. Your hate for the boy chained you to the island far stronger than any chain forged by man. Your obsession for revenge kept you here.' She tossed her silver hair back. 'But such has changed, has it not?'

Another snort escaped the pirate. "Well, he's still a pain in the neck often enough, but … I … well, I don't hate him anymore," he admitted reluctantly, under his breath. It was true. During their conflict with the dark warlock, his hate for the little carker had melted. Moreover, it had grown into something he didn't want to name, but it gave him a stabbing sensation when he thought of the boy being kept somewhere with force, certainly battered and afraid despite his cockiness. And what had happened to bring them to this juncture? Because the brat couldn't listen to him! "Little idiot always wants to play the hero," he murmured, and his voice sounded far too gentle.

'There you go,' Niam nodded, sensing the captain's desire to protect Peter.

Hearing her words, Hook fixed her with a glare. "Do you mean that literally?" he asked bluntly, and Niam chuckled.

'Always so direct.' She sighed. 'Neverland knows everyone's heart's desire. Yours was to kill the boy who took your hand. Now that impulse for revenge is replaced by a new and better one.'

"Aye. To return to the Mainland and get Wendy back – and get Peter out of the hot water he got himself into."

"And to retrieve our son!" Ayden growled, golden eyes narrowed. "Don't you dare forget him!"

"Yes, yes," Hook sighed. "And get the egg out, too."

"Cudrim is about to hatch," Anala interjected, her voice layered with motherly concern. "And then he'll need much more care. He needs heat, food-"

"Lovely! Shall I order my ship's cook to warm a bottle?" Hook sneered under his breath, but was ignored as Jump-Jump asked curiously, "Cudrim?"

"Cudrim, The Bright," the dragoness replied, bobbing her large head. "That is his name. We already call him by his name because he can hear us."

"So, he is ready to leave the egg?" Michael asked in alarm. A baby dragon was a true dragon in miniature – not a happy thought, picturing him romping through England.

"Oh yes, in two or three days the time will … arrive. Hopefully. If those mortal men keep the egg warm enough." Anala's voice 'broke' and her large eyes filled with hot tears.

"Please don't. I have no handkerchief with me that would be big enough for you," James grumbled.

'Can you cease your mockery for ONE SINGLE HAPPY MOMENT?' Niam groused. As she met his surprised gaze, she snapped, 'What? Do you think being bad-tempered is your own personal privilege?' She continued to stare at him, and when he didn't lower his gaze, she finally shook her head. 'No, I will not lose my composure over a stupid mortal. There is too far too much to address.'

"The fire at the village," John broke in, still concerned regarding the Indians. "Is it under control?"

'Yes, now we are helped by the snowfall,' Niam replied. She was right. It was a snowfall as you might wish for at Christmas. The wind was also dashing at them occasionally, causing some blue lips and chattering teeth among the boys. A few of the pirates only wearing sandals were hopping from foot to foot, wrapping their arms around themselves.

John, always practical, called Hook's attention to his other serious concern. "We have to help the tribe, Captain."

Hook, still simmering with anger born from worry, glanced toward the boy. "What do you mean?" he asked briskly. "I gave them all the help possible to us!"

Ignoring the implied complaint, John simply tilted his head. Knowing that the man was harried, he continuing calmly, "We helped fight the fire, but the true misery for them begins now. They lost most everything they owned – their shelters are destroyed. And with Peter's absence, the weather becomes a real danger to them. They might find shelter in the castle."

The pirates, knowing their commander, braced themselves for the certain forthcoming fit. Even Smee sent John a warning glance, giving his head a quick shake. But for once James was too stunned to get angry. "They … they always live outdoors. Indians hate being cooped up in buildings made of stone-" he began, shocked at his own reaction.

"Until now they all had their homes. Now they have nothing. Before they can replace them, the cold and snow will first weaken and then kill them," John told him matter-of-factly. "We have to do something."

Nibs nodded. "John is right. The whole tribe is in danger."

The other boys also agreed, voicing their support, while Slightly added, "You and your men will leave soon, so the Indians wouldn't bother you for long. And they can create new homes and clothing while sheltered in the Black Castle.."

Gaping, James blinked a few times. "And you think-"

'They speak wisely,' Niam cut in. 'The village is ruined. Most of the families are homeless. They won't survive long in the woods, not in this weather.'

Well, true. Yet in the back of his mind, James had hoped for a bit peace before his life (and that of his men) was fundamentally altered. On the other hand, offering these people shelter was exactly what Wendy would do, and want him to do. She would insist that he help them. And the boys were right about one detail: the Jolly Roger would depart soon, and the time all would be under one roof would be short.

Hook took a deep breath. Alas, he was a pirate, not a bleedin' Samaritan. But the part of him who had once been the youngest son of Marquess Shalford, the man who had been an up-and-coming officer of the Royal Navy, had grown stronger over the last months (five years, to be precise, since a certain storyteller began to wrap him around her little finger). And this officer and gentleman rose up in him now; demanding that he do the right thing.

Grimacing, he announced, "Fine!" then he turned towards the remaining Little People. "A few of you jinglers or green imps please inform my men who are still fighting the fire that they should come to the Black Castle and bring Rain-in-the-Face and the others with them for a stay. Maybe Great Big Little Panther and his young seer can advise us before we set sail."

The boys shouted in agreement at that announcement, then they turned serious again the moment they remembered the reason why Hook and his pirates were preparing to weigh anchor. "So, Captain Hook and his men can leave Neverland. That's the best news we've heard today. Now we can all set about to free Peter, Wendy and Cudrim," Nibs summarized. "Next we have to learn how we all can go back to England. I don't think Tink's fairy dust will be enough."

"An excellent question," Hook nodded, still trying to calm himself and think clearly. At least, on the outside. Inside he was still seething with hurt and anger.

Slightly grinned. "And yet fairy dust and fairy wings could be the solution." As all eyes turned to him, his grin broadened, "Hey, remember how Peter took us all back to the Mainland the first time Wendy and her brothers stayed in Neverland?" Tootles and Curly gaped at him, Nibs chuckled, the Twins giggled, and John and Michael rolled their eyes. The new Lost Boys also grinned, for indeed they had heard the story of the 'flying Jolly Roger' often enough from their proud leader.

Hook remembered it, too. "Oh no!" he groaned. "No, no, and once again no! A ship is made for sailing, not flying!" he complained.

"I canna bear ter fly, 'fraid o' heights," one of the pirates protested.

"Bollocks. An' t'en ye climb into t'e crow's nest near ever' day?" another voice scoffed.

Slightly glanced at the captain and chuckled. "You're not the only one who likes to be in control. When we fly, we depend on the fairies!"

Niam flew to them. 'You think my fairies will carry the entire ship and all of you to the Outer World?' she asked astonished.

"Peter only summoned them with a whistle. It worked before, so why not again? Especially now, when Neverland and all of you here are at stake?" Slightly asked.

"The boy is right," the unicorn added. "All the humans – men and boys – will risk their lives and livelihoods when returning to the Outer World. The least we can do is support them."

'So, we are to save the day, and all this after I warned you of the changes in the wind!' Niam frowned, her turn for aggravation.

Hook jabbed a finger in her direction. "If you had put a finer point of specificity in your warnings, we would have been prepared and might have stopped these disasters before they took place!" he growled. "'A change in the wind', 'the tide changes', 'the dragon's fury will be woken', 'sorrow will come over the Indians' – oh, so very precise, you and the fish ladies! If I'd asked the Oracle of Delphi, I'm sure I would have gotten better information!"

"Asked who?" Cushy asked confused, but Hook only waved it off.

Naim pursed her lips and took a deep breath. She didn't like it, but Hook had a point. 'What if I agree to send the half of my people with you to transport you to the Mainland, would you agree? It is your ship.'

"Nice to be asked," James commented dryly, walking toward the others. It was then his foot bumped something. Looking down, he saw a familiar object peeking out from the first layer of snow. Picking it up, he saw it was Peter's knife that his captors had carelessly tossed away. For a moment, James' gaze was captured by the small weapon.

How often had he crossed blades with this wicked dagger, how often he had avoided it at the very last moment? He had sneered about the boy's cockiness of bringing a knife to a sword fight, yet he had also seen Peter using it to carve pretty things from wood whenever his active mind and soul needed something to do. The boy rarely stood still, never sitting and doing nothing. He always needed to be busy, so he carved little people or animals from wood. And now this knife had been tossed aside by his captors. Hook had known that Ashford's men had disarmed the youth, yet this dagger belonged at Peter's side, just like his pipe. For James, it was a reminder that a part of the boy would always remain in Neverland, but it also meant that he was defenseless now in the Mainland.

'I'll give it back to you, boy, as soon as I've hauled your cocky carcass out of the danger you're in, and laid you over my knees. Spit and tarballs, Pan, why couldn't you listen to me? We might have stood a real chance of preventing Wendy from getting abducted to the Mainland if you hadn't been taken captive and held as hostage!'

With a sigh he stuck the knife into his weapon sash, forgetting that Niam had heard his thoughts. He also noticed that the fairy queen's countenance softened as she sensed his anxiety for the Prince of Neverland. How much that relationship had grown!

Hook's eyes moved to the unicorn, who tilted her head inquiringly, and finally answered the fairy queen's question, "Peter needs help – thanks to his stubborn and ridiculous attempt to save everyone by himself. And Wendy was forced back to England, very much against her will. She told me this morning that she wanted to stay here-" with me, he added in his thoughts. "I don't know if she can ever return to Neverland, even if she gets the chance. So, if it is possible for me to follow her, then nothing will hold me back. She is … my other half. If I am to leave Neverland to be with her, so be it!"

"Finally, he admits his feelings," the unicorn murmured.

James rolled his eyes, but remained silent while the Lost Boys looked at him with new eyes, hearing very un-Hook-like sentiments coming from his mouth. Michael swallowed hard and John closed his eyes in frustration. 'Brace yourself, John Napoleon Darling, you're about to get a pirate as your brother-in-law! My sister will surely give him an enthusiastic 'yes' if he even mentions the word 'marriage', head-over-heels as she is for him. Yet I don't know how to explain this all to Aunt Milicent – or Father!'

Niam's attention was directed to the captain, and her fine senses reached out for him as she added, 'You will be required to give up more than the immortality you have enjoyed here. If you leave, you will never be allowed back. Neverland is a refuge for those who are in desperate need of safety, for which you no longer qualify. Those who hunted you are long dead. You would have to stay in the Outer World.'

Hook nodded slowly. "I assumed as much, and I am willing to remain there." He glanced at Smee and the others, and something occurred to him. In earlier times, before Wendy's sweet influence began to transform him into the man he once was, he hadn't given a thought as to what his crew wanted. Consideration for others was something he had abandoned when he became a pirate. But no more. As he had hesitated to attack over the fallen bodies of the Good Neighbors, he now thought about his crew and what his decision would mean for them. "But I cannot speak for my men," he said slowly, looking at their faces. "If some desire to stay here – would they have permission?" As Niam nodded slowly, he took a deep breath. "Then I'm ready to face the challenge."

Niam hadn't expected anything else, yet she said slowly, seriously, 'Be warned. The world you once knew exists no more. Much has changed.'

"Yes, I read a book Wendy gave me. I know a bit about the new machines and inventions. Everything I've missed can be learned," James said calmly. Then he looked to the boys. "By the way, I will not leave it to these pint sizes to free Peter from Ashford's clutches – or the dragon egg. Ashford is ruthless and has a title and status – rightfully gained or not. On the Mainland no one believes in fairies, dragons or unicorns anymore, at least no grownups. No one is going to believe the boys when they say that the viscount is a criminal because he captured a flying boy and a dragon egg. They will need help to rescue Peter and that lizard, and avoid trouble with the authorities and their parents." He took a deep breath. "Also, admittedly, my men and I will need their help to come to terms with this new world without drawing too much attention."

'That will be the biggest challenge of all,' John thought gloomily, already imagining the shocked looks of the London citizenry when Hook arrived on their streets. Yet John had to agree. Both groups, boys and pirates, would have to depend on each other.

"How will you bring our son home when you're unable to return to Neverland?" Ayden asked, following the conversation below, a deep frown on his scaled forehead. "I warn you all! If my son doesn't return, this island will burn!"

"Cease threatening," Hook snapped. "As said earlier, it would be stupid to destroy your own home territory – at least Neverland is for you and the others until the other hatchlings are grown enough to fly away with you!" Then he sighed. "But the question addresses a problem: how to get it back to Neverland?" Truthfully, he had no concern for the unhatched baby dragon. The only thing he wanted was to get his sweet crabbiness back – and that little flying pest who somehow had managed to become a bigger and better part of his life. Not counting his pranks.

"No problem," Runner said. "Of course, we'll come with you. As soon as we free Peter and get the egg, Tink can give us her fairy dust and we'll return to Neverland with Peter in the lead. He knows the best way from the Mainland back to here. And I'm sure he wants to come home as soon as possible. And then we'll bring the egg with us."

Hook frowned. "One moment. You all want to come with us?" he asked, making a sweeping gesture with his hook that included the whole gang.

"Aye!" "Of course!" "What did you think of us?" "As if we would let down our friend!" they all said at once.

James stared at them, horrified. "My ship is not an orphanage!" he bellowed.

"We're no orphans, but we're-"

"-THE LOST BOYS!" they all shouted in unison, punching the air with the declaration, including John and Michael.

'Stop!' Niam said firmly. 'You cannot all go.' Well, that got their attention. And as the pirates watched (starting to place bets on who would win this one), the boys immediately voiced their objections. Loudly. The fairy queen lifted both hands, and magically enhanced her voice. 'SILENCE!' Her command seemed to roll off the mountains, startling the entire island into quiet; even the dragons looked cowed. Muttering to themselves, the boys shut up.

Niam sighed. 'Of course you all want to help Peter. But you new boys left your homes only a short time ago. Do you really think you could go back to the Mainland without being recognized and forced to stay?' Runner, Jumper and Bluffer looked at each other. They had few memories left of their former lives, but they all knew that it was better to be in Neverland than the mean streets in London. Cushy and Bonbon frowned, uncertain, because faces seem to flash in their minds – faces of their abusers. They shuddered and shook their heads.

And Niam had seen what they saw. 'At the moment, Neverland is your home, and you've forgotten much sadness, but when you're back, you will remember far too much, and others might remember you, and capture you as Peter was caught. And what then? You were brought here as refugees from the unhappy lives you had on the Mainland. And you decided to remain as boys. When you return, you would begin to grow again.' She took a deep breath. 'And there is one more consideration. If Peter doesn't return in time, a new Pan must be selected.'

"WHAT?" Runner and Bluffer squeaked.

"But there is only one Peter Pan!" Jumper snapped. "No one else could do what he does!" John frowned, listening carefully.

'Peter was an ordinary little boy when Tinker Bell found him after running away from home to Kensington Gardens and brought him to Neverland. He became the Pan later, when he was still young but old enough to understand the responsibilities of being the Prince of Neverland. He got his pipes then – the symbol of the Pan. Without a Pan Neverland is doomed." She glanced at Hook. "If you had been able to kill him, another boy would have been chosen to replace him. The land of eternal youth needs a child to be its essential source.'

Hook listened to the fairy, eyes wide. "So, Peter enables the island's magic with his faith," he said slowly. "You depend on him and his innocence; in return, he enjoys the benefits of an island playground, making this a stable 'home' for all of you here." He snorted. "Clever!" He nodded, recognizing the 'logic' of the workings of magic in her words.

'Yes, but nothing lasts forever. Change is inevitable. If Peter grows and matures before he's able to return – or worse, is killed – Neverland will create a new Pan to remain Neverland.'

Hook regarded her with deep skepticism. "The boy lived here for how long? A few decades, centuries? You and the other fairies raised him as your own, and now all you're worried about is that your little island faces a rough time should he not return? Shouldn't you be more concerned about him and his well-being?" he scoffed, scowling at her.

'Of course I am concerned about him! Don't think that you are the only one here who wishes him well because you are suddenly protective of him!' Niam snapped. 'But foremost, I am responsible not only for the boy, but for ALL inhabitants of Neverland. You, as a captain, certainly understand those responsibilities!'

He paused, then replied "Aye, but if I had a son and he was in danger, he would be my first priority – and everything else could go to hell!" He took deep breaths to calm himself, then he glanced at the boys. "What this annoying insect says is true. You all are here for a relatively short time, and – believe me – returning to a place that once was a home is painful. I know of what I speak. I was at sea long enough to enjoy the comfort of a homecoming, no matter if you left in peace or with hard feelings. You might get caught up in your past good and bad, possibly choosing to stay in London – and then Pan would be alone again when he returns. Completely alone given the fact that my men and I are leaving, too." He glared at Niam. "And before you make more plans for a substitute, Peter WILL return in time! I'll stake my reputation on it!"

"But where will we stay?" Runner asked quietly, reluctantly acknowledging the wisdom of the older ones' decision. The boys were needed here, because someone had to look after Neverland, whether Peter returned in time or not.

"We don't have much food in storage," Bluffer murmured, more practically minded.

"And if Peter is away for a couple of days, we would freeze in the hideout," Cushy added quietly.

Hook grimaced. "Stay at the Black Castle – along with the Indians. I'm sure they can feed five more mouths. And there are still the Hobgoblins. They love to serve, especially you children." He looked at the former Lost Boys and the two Darlings. "Do any of you want to stay here, too?"

Looking at one another, all shook their heads. "No, we now have a new home in London," Nibs answered for them.

"I thought so much. So it's you eight who come with us."

"And one fairy," Slightly translated Tinker Bell's jingling.

"Two fairies and one pixie!" a tiny voice peeped, and a very dirty Aurora and Kailen appeared in the air suddenly beside the unicorn, still covered in ashes and grime.

Hook's eyes almost bulged out of his head. "What? No! Not you, too!"

"Helpful we were last time you fought," Kailen pointed out. "Needing us you will!" Tink flew to them and all three hung side by side in the air, crossing their arms and glaring defiantly at the pirate captain. Tink added a new condition to their help.

"What? Those two come with us or there will be no fairy dust and transporting the ship? Did I understand you rightly, Miss Bell?" Hook gasped. "You're extorting me?" Tink simply shrugged and smiled innocently at him. He closed his eyes, surrendering.

John scratched his head and polished his glasses. "All right, that's sorted out. And I'm getting a headache," he groaned. All the boys looked at him, "What?" and he explained, "Real buccaneers from two hundred years ago, shabby gang of boys and three creatures from the fairy realm are going to London, while an old Spanish galleon sails into port. Explaining that will be such a walk in the park!" he complained, sounding uncharacteristically sarcastic.

And why the other boys and even a few of the pirates began to laugh was beyond him.

*** PP *** PP ***

As the lorry rattled to a halt in the wide half-circle drive of Ashford Manor, Brynna Lunette felt – indeed – a sense of relief. She had used the last hair she got from Wendy's brush that morning and seen that there was burning in the south of the island, but then the crystal ball had gone dark, and no number of revealing spells would bring it back again. She assumed that Dalton had employed drastic methods. Perhaps the boy now realized that life didn't always go his way and bow to his lordly will – but the results were unknown to her. And now she heard the heavy engine of the lorry. Looking out of one of the upper windows, she saw it halt. She recognized the figures, among them the bulky Welshman holding something wrapped in a blanket on his lap. Through the windscreen she saw Dalton, holding something between himself and Fulsom, also wrapped in a blanket.

"They made it!" she nearly shouted, and hurried down the hallway. She heard the maid Olivia, working in the kitchen, then the knob turning; the Dane pushed the door open as Lunette reached the entrance level. Dalton passed him, carrying an insensate Wendy Darling in a blanket, her face gray.

"You got her!" Lunette observed. Looking down on the girl, then at the viscount. "You sedated her?"

Dalton grimaced. "Yes, with chloroform, and frequently. I think I used a bit much, but I was in hurry." He stopped as his former nanny checked Wendy's pulse and check the reaction in her eyes. "She'll be alright. She'll sleep a little longer. I don't think she will wake up before evening." Then she looked up at the young man. "Are you well, Dalton?"

A boyish grin appeared on his young face. No one who saw him just that moment would have believed the dreadful deeds he had performed on the island, destroying homes, injuring and killing those who lived there. "I am as well as one can be after battling pirates, savages and facing real dragons. A scratch on the arm, nothing serious." He looked at his companions as they entered the entrance hall – dirty, wet, cold and tired. Fulsom hauled in what baggage they could retrieve, and dropped them in the foyer, not caring one bit what was in them.

Olivia now hastened from the kitchen to the master of the house, and curtsied. "Welcome back, Milord. Do you or your guests need anything?"

"Tea and lots of it," he ordered, "a warm bath and something for dinner – exactly in that order." He saw her staring at Wendy and cleared his throat. "But first we have to take care of Miss Darling." He glanced at one of the men. "Mr. Jackson, please take Miss Darling upstairs to the guestroom. It's the fourth door to the right when you turn left at the first level." Then to Olivia: "Miss Darling has had a bout of the influenza, and I'm sure she will sleep a few more hours. Make certain one of Victoria's nightgowns is available for her when she does awaken."

Olivia curtsied again. "Yes, Milord." Still wondering at the other girl's presence, she knew enough not to show it. Servants were expected to avoid questions, yet the little maid felt certain that something was indeed amiss. Jackson carefully transferred the young woman to his arms, following Olivia up the stairs.

"You hurt your arm?" Brynna asked Dalton when the maid was out of earshot.

"Nothing serious. Mr. Russell got it worse," Dalton replied, nodding toward the other man.

Bryanna turned to Edgar Russell. "What happened?" she asked him, taking his still-bleeding hand into hers.

"First the pirates' imp stabbed m' leg with a knife, and then a mermaid raked my hand with her claws," he told her.

Bryanna pursed shortly her lips. Injuries inflicted by magical beings often had unpleasant side effects. The claws of the mermaid seemed to have left one of those effects. The four scratches were swollen and still oozed blood, and looking up up, she saw that the man was pale and feverish. "Go to your room, clean your injured leg and soak your hand. I will treat the wounds in a few minutes. You also have a fever. Better you lie down afterward. Olivia will bring you dinner." She turned around and her eager eyes found the bundle Oscar Alister carried.

"Is that the boy?" she asked, approaching him.

He nodded with a grimace. "Yes, it's the boy. Child he may be, but I'd rather hunt a pack of hyenas than this brat!"

Lunette ignored the comment, pulling the blanket back from his face. She took in the damp, tousled golden mop of hair, the tender boyish features, the long lashes and the sundrenched skin. "What a pretty boy! No wonder that he turned the girl's head years ago," she commented. "What about his throat? He's bleeding and his face is bruised."

"We had to convince the pirates to lay down their weapons. After that, the boor screamed his head off after his pirate friend was shot," Anders grumbled.

"You should admit that you used the boy to provoke by pressin' a knife at 'is throat, and that your precious viscount 'adn't any scruples about shooting a man in front of the child." Hutchings pushed past the other men to face the old woman.

She turned, "Archibald. Back in one piece, I see. I'm glad."

"I'm not – at least not concernin' this boy and the destruction 'is Lordship and the others left on th' island," the professor replied angrily.

Bryanna glanced at Dalton, who sighed, "I was forced to shoot the pirate when he attacked me. And a distraction went wrong which caused a few of the Indians to lose their tents-"

"The 'distraction' was a herd o' buffalo stampeding the Indian village causing a wildfire and also creating many casualties and even killin' some," Hutching 'translated.' "And if that weren't sufficient, these 'gentlemen' 'ere 'ad no problem with stomping on injured or unconscious fairies, pixies and whatever else was livin' in the realm, seeing they had the chance to do so!"

"Great Scott, Professor," Wickham snapped, "stop your crying over a few flying bugs. They would'a gladly bewitched you, given the possibility. Tha's what they do! Look at how they bewitched the little wildcat His Lordship is so fond of," he continued. "Or why else would she attack him?"

"Perhaps, just perhaps," the older man sneered, "th' young lady wanted th' viscount's attention even less than she wanted t' leave th' island?"

"She was under the faes' spell," Dalton replied sternly. He refused to consider that Wendy had been in her right mind while rejecting and even attacking him.

"A spell o' th' fae or the simple spell of feelin's?" Archibald fixed the cold grey eyes of the younger man. "Y' said y'self that she tried to protect Cap'n 'Ook by shieldin' 'im with 'er own body after she fled willin'ly with 'im. Might ye consider th' possibility tha' the gel is enamored with th' blighter?"

"With that cripple?" Dalton shook his head. "He was the son of a high traitor and a criminal who-"

"So, this captain was indeed the last son of the Shalford family?" Brynna interrupted before it could come to fisticuffs between the two. She could tell this was just the continuation of a previous disagreement.

"Yes, he was James Shalford. He was going by the name James Hook in Neverland because he lost his right hand, as we read in her diary. And, once again, he's history!"

Bryanna raised a brow. "And you shot him?"

"It was self-defense!" Dalton grumbled. "He was about to attack me with a sword—"

"Twenty yards between 'im and you," the professor spat. "What you did can 'ardly be called self-defense."

"He was prepared to take my head off," Ashford hissed; eyes narrowed. "I had no other choice!"

"To kill two birds with one stone, aye: eliminatin' y'r rival and the man 'oo might've become a risk to y'r family because o' what had been done to 'is fam'ly two cent'ries ago." Hutchings shook his head. "Call it whatever y' like, but WE all know t'was murrrrder, and nothin' else."

"Killing a murderer, pillager and high traitor is not murder!" Ashford complained. "And I refuse to have this discussion with you again. Hook – Shalford! – is dead and gone, Wendy is safe, Bryanna got the boy and we have the dragon egg that will be the cure for my family's curse. End of discussion!"

He turned away, but the professor had another question. "And wha' about th' boys you left in Neverland? What d' you plan t' tell their parents why y' come back without 'em?"

Dalton only grimaced. "I'll think of something."

Brynna pursed her lips. It seemed the 'expedition' had created a rift between the men – namely Archibald and the others. This could lead to problems. But the most important thing was that they brought the boy, Dalton had his girl and … "You got the dragon egg?"

"Yes, safe in a satchel," Wickham nodded.

"Very good. Bring it to my … workshop. I've prepared everything to keep it warm." Then she headed to the stair that led to the cellars. "Bring the boy and the package with the dragon egg. We must make sure that both are … secured."

Archibald gaped at her. "Y'r takin' the boy into th' dungeons?" he asked flabbergasted.

"Why not?"

"'E's a child, f' God's sake. Y' canna throw 'im into an icy dark dungeon!"

"I must agree with you there," Ashford nodded, seeing a way to mollify the dragon expert. "Brynna, please see that the boy has enough blankets and that he gets plenty to eat and to drink. Also be sure there is light. When you've gotten what you need from him, we'll decide what to do with him next."

"Why airn't y' puttin' 'im into one of th' guestrooms?" Hutchings demanded. "There 'e'd be warm an' comforted at least."

"Even you can see the reason, Professor! He could immediately escape through the windows. And if we chain him up at the bed or a chair, he will make enough racket to alert even the people on the road, not to mention the maid. And I don't want to explain to strangers why we are holding a boy captive here." He nodded at Alister. "Bring him downstairs. Wickham, follow him and the lady with the dragon-egg."

Morton moved to the luggage and hoisted the backpack with the precious egg. "Hey, the sack is open," he blurted. "I'm sure it were closed."

"Is the egg damaged?" the old woman asked, frowning.

Looking into the baggage, Wickham shook his head. "No, still be wrapped in the straw and blankets I used to protect it."

"Then you simply forgot to close the backpack. Fool, be glad that nothing happened to the dragon youngling. Bring it with you and follow me," Bryanna said, striding past Archie, who laid a hand on her shoulder.

"We 'ave to talk."

"Certainly," she replied. "But first I must bind injuries and care for the egg. And, of course, see that the boy comfortable." Grimacing at her last word, she exited to the dungeons, not looking back once.

*** PP ***

The noisy discussion in the entrance hall was advantageous for a certain little stowaway curled around the stolen dragon's egg.

Bumblyn was utterly miserable. His stomach was still topsy turvy from the ride in the longboat, from bobbing up and down on Smee's shoulder, the intense feeling of something wrong as they transported though worlds in the portal, and the miserable jostling ride from the portal to the manor made in the dark. For once in his life, he wasn't hungry, but very cold and very scared. He wanted nothing more than to roll into a ball and sleep for a week, but he knew that he couldn't remain in the bag any longer, realizing that it was in no danger for the moment. Gulping down his rising gorge, he quietly pushed the flap of the backpack, loosening the buckle from the inside until he could open it and peer carefully about.

All he could see were the walls of an open room and something that seemed to be a window, different what he'd seen at the Black Castle. He heard the voices of the men and of a strange woman. His bogey senses felt the colour of cold darkness coming from her, and he instinctively assigned her the title: 'Witch!'

Oh no, not good this was! Far from it. Gulping down his fear, he silently crawled out of the bag and hid between the other packages. Peering at the group, he saw the evil man – the 'vye-kaunt' – standing at the other end of the large hall, two other men carrying the still unconscious Wendy and Peter. Bumblyn wished desperately to help them, but for that he had to remain unseen and hidden. Which was impossible in his present position, for they would soon return to their luggage and he would be revealed!

Carefully he watched the humans gather around the viscount and the old woman, shouting now, full attention on those two. Now or never! Gathering all his courage, Bumblyn dashed out of his little hideout and silently raced into the nearby darkening corridor. His little heart pounded as he ran down the hallway. He nearly slipped with his tiny wet boots on the marble and was glad when he reached carpeted floors. The voice behind him stopped him.

"As soon as Miss Darling wakes up, Olivia is to prepare a bath for her. She looks a-shambles," Ashford ordered, glancing back. "And chain the boy. He is slick as an eel, and I don't want any surprises!" Then the viscount started down the same hallway as the tiny Hobgoblin. Bumblyn heard a loud click, and the hall was suddenly bright with light. He froze. Not good! He threw himself underneath the chest of drawers next to him.

The mortal man continued down the hall, and Bumblyn saw a pair of expensive, dirty boots, stopping exactly where he'd paused as a voice from the entrance hall called after the viscount, "And the keys for the chains?"

"Brynna Lunette has all keys of the house for now," Dalton answered. "And one thing more, Wickham. Keep quiet about Hook's death. Tell the others to avoid the topic, as well. I have to conjure an acceptable story for the girl." He walked further down the hall and entered a room. The door closed with a click behind him.

Bumblyn crawled out from under the cabinet and stared at the door the viscount had entered. He balled his little hands into fists and felt a totally new rage waking in him. "If only would be I a little bit taller and stronger, tear you apart I would, you monster!" he said softly.

To his surprise, a thin, cool, little hand was slapped over his mouth, stifling a frightened shout. A scrawny arm was wrapped around his middle, pulling him backward. The Hobgoblin was about to squeak, as a thin raspy voice whispered in his ear, "Silent you be, or they find us!"

He was speedily dragged to another door standing ajar, and was pulled through it. The room was nearly dark; only the twilight from the rainy day provided dim light. Here he recognized many shelves and books – a library. Books! So many books! He had never seen so many in one place before!

"Still not safe we are. Come!" his rescuer murmured with a rough reedy voice. Before he knew what happened, the gnarled hand took his wrist, pulling him through the room. He still hadn't seen his rescuer clearly, but it was obvious that it belonged to his kind – sort of. At least he could tell it was a one of the Good People. His rescuer was a bit taller than he, with ragged long hair, long pointed ears and something like a dark dress, then his companion pulled one of the largest books from the lowest shelf and pointed into the gap. "There you go – straight ahead. Don't stop, I follow!"

Of course, it was better to obey the order of one of his own kind than to wander around into the path of one of those nasty mortal men, each one worse than the last. Slipping between the books into the gap, he found a hole in the wall behind it and squeezed himself through. His mysterious rescuer followed him, replacing the book.

The passage was pitch black and Bumblyn was certain that he would run into something soon, but then he heard the striking of a match. Turning around, he saw in the light of a matchstick … his rescuer. He stared.

The creature was a head taller than he, and obviously a she. The fuzzy brown-grey hairline fell low over her forehead; the fine strands were combed back and fell down her back, held in place by the long pointed ears. Her nose was short and slightly upturned, and she was old. Very old. Long ago wrinkles had made their home around her deep brown eyes and her broad mouth, making her brownish face even darker. Hairy thin arms stuck out from a rather tattered dress that seemed to have once been blue, decorated with large squares, perhaps a tartan pattern. The dress reached her knees, revealing her bandy legs, which were also hairy. Her feet were shod with pointed clogs made of wool, allowing her to move around noiselessly. The fingers holding the burning torch were webbed.

All in all, there certainly were prettier members of the Little People, but never judge a being by its appearance – especially when it came to the Faery-folk and the bogeys. The most beautiful creatures could be deadly, while the most hideous could be warm-hearted and kind.

"Does my face have a spot?" she asked grumpily, before she blew out the matchstick she held in her right hand like a small torch. A moment later a new one was lit.

"Sorry," Bumblyn mumbled. "A … a Brownie you are, right?"

She nodded. Brownies were mainly house spirits, but another kind than Hobgoblins. They were mostly found in the lowlands of Scotland, where they performed the typical duties of all house spirits (if they liked its inhabitants,) but woe to you if you treat them with disrespect or don't leave milk by the hearth to pay them. And, as with many members of the Little People, they took great offence when offered other clothes than the ones they wore. Believe me, dear reader, you never, ever, under any circumstance, want to have an offended Brownie around. It can be bad for your health. They rob you of sleep and steal your peace. In very rare cases, a Brownie can even curse you or set your belongings afire before he or she vanishes, never to be seen again.

This Brownie cocked her head and examined the other bogey top to bottom. "You're a Hobgoblin," she stated.

Bumblyn nodded – and remembered his manners. Taking off his pointy hat, he offered his hand. "Apologizing for my bad behavior I do. I am Bumblyn."

Changing the burning match to her left hand, the Brownie took the offered fingers with her cool, webbed ones. "Nissa I once was called," she introduced herself, and Bumblyn earnestly shook her hand. Female Brownies were rare, and he was pleased to meet one. Yet inwardly he had to smile. He knew that another kin of house sprits in the snowlands were called 'Nisse' and she kept the name 'Nissa'. Whoever came up with it had to have a quirky sense of humor.

"This house's good spirit you are?" he asked.

"Long long ago I was," Nissa said. "A good house, too, with strong and honorable people, and a river nearby. A joy it was after leaving the green north with my lady." She sighed, before she gestured down small passage she had used many years. "To my cubby we should go. Talking will be easier." She squeezed past Bumblyn who followed her, replacing his hat on his wiry red hair. Even though burning with curiosity and deeply worried about Wendy and Peter, he knew that it was better to remain silent until they reached Nissa's dwelling place.

They walked in complete silence now, quieter than the mice they passed twice – which only looked at them but continued munching stolen crusts – crouching through even smaller passages, and finally reaching something like a little room or cave. Nissa had relit other matchsticks for their short passage, and used the last one to kindle a very old lamp that reeked of old oil, but made a warm light. Bumblyn recognized a small oil lamp – just like the ones in the Black Castle or on the tall captain's ship – and saw that the glass chimney was cracked.

The tall captain's ship … he couldn't grasp that Hook was dead. and he felt a hole had opened in his large heart. The man had been impossible, cranky, mostly rude when dealing with Bumblyn and his folk, but the little Hobgoblin had long ago learned to look past this behavior, even taking a liking to the man. Not dead! No! The ache in his chest was very real.

Deliberately pushing aside these thoughts, he looked around and found a nest made of straw, dry moss and stolen handkerchiefs and a woolen scarf. Against one wall was a roll of thick woolen fabric of the same tartan colors and pattern the Brownie wore as a dress. An old beany hung between an array of wooden sticks resembling a chair. That weathered small wooden box served as the table and a short whisk broom leaning against the wall was for cleaning. The shelter held most of what was needed, yet who would choose to live here?

"No luxury you'll find, but sleeping I do a lot, so it's no concern," Nissa said, as if reading Bumblyn's mind, and offered him the 'chair'. She herself sat on her 'bed'. "With the bad men you came, but seeing you hiding I did, and fearing them," she said slowly. "The pretty lady – she's your duty?"

Bumblyn knew to whom the Brownie was referring and said proudly, "My friend she is. Wendy saved my life and I hers."

"So even you are," Nissa said thoughtfully.

"Yes and no," he said shrugging, thinking, "because to her my friendship binds me." He sighed and bowed his head. "Kidnapped she was – together with Peter Pan. And now-"

"Peter Pan?" Nissa said startled, eyes large. "Pixies and fairies I remember speak of him. He who will not grow up – he is the boy the dorcha bhiorach brought with him?"

Bumblyn had never learned Gaelic, yet he understood it like so many other members of the Good People. Dorcha bhiorach – the dark viscount. "A bad man he is, yes?"

"Like his father and fathers' fathers before him – for several generations," the Brownie answered quietly, and sadly shook her head. "Not belonging in this manor do they. With treachery and lies they stole it – killing brave Kenneth, capturing the master and Lion, my sweet lady they sent away … and pursued my Master Jamie!" Her voice now grew stronger at this declaration, anger laced her voice with mourning, eyes brimming with unshed tears. "Warned him I did at the last moment before I left his memories, and away he rode – soldiers hunted him." She took a deep breath. "What happened to him never did I learn – but the young lady … speaking to the young master's painting I heard her. And days ago the Ashford offspring and the hunters about him spoke, too – called him a captain, a pirate. So alive he must be even after all this time." She was whispering now again, eyes bright with hope, a single tear rolled down her wrinkled cheek.

Bumblyn twisted his short tail, feeling his throat tightening as he realized two things. First, this Brownie was far older than he thought, knowing Hook before he came to Neverland. Little People didn't attach themselves to mortals often, but when they did, it was an everlasting bond to death. Nissa was obviously bound to 'Master Jamie' – someone the Hobgoblin knew very well. In his heart, he felt a huge wave of pity and grief, because second, the man the Brownie had never stopped waiting for had been alive up until a few hours ago. And now he was gone – forever! He didn't know how to tell the stalwart little servant, but he knew that he couldn't lie to her.

Clearing his throat and swallowing, he reluctantly forced out the words: "Escaping he did and became a pirate, Aye. A most famous one, a harsh and even brutal one he was first, then change he did." He saw her shock. He rose, went to her and sat down beside her, wrapping a comforting arm around her. "Brave he became, saving my Wendy lady – and the Pan. Fighting against a dark wizard he did, against harpies and even facing a dragon."

Nissa stared at her guest. "Where is he?" she whispered.

"In Neverland."

"The island of youth – surviving there for decades and centuries he then did." She still stared at Bumblyn, who looked down into his lap.

"Yes. But … the viscount I heard saying that … that the captain was shot in battle."

He met her widening eyes and whispered, "Fall he did while trying to save the Wendy lady he loved – and Peter, the one he once hated and now … respected."

Nissa stared at him, disbelieving, horrified. For until this very day her Master Jamie had been alive, only to be killed now – this day, just before she learned that he had survived the two centuries. But now he was gone, gone for all time.!

The Brownie burst into tears. Throwing her thin arms around Bumblyn she began to sob, and the little Hobgoblin felt with the fine senses of his kin the sorrow and anguish that shook the little old bogey.

TBC…

Yes, a Brownie. And above all, a Brownie-lady. I simply had to put another kind of house-spirit into the story, and the old Nissa will have some important things to do. She really is as old as Bumblyn assumes: she knew Hook as a child. Can you imagine what will happen if those two see each other again? (Smile).

So, Hook is able to leave Neverland – of course, after all our captain and his crew has to stir up good old London soon. And he finally admitted his true feelings for 'his' storyteller and even admitted to himself that he worries for Peter. What a change after all the enmity in earlier times.

In the next chapter one of Ashford's companions will become ruefully, Peter wakes up and realizes how much 'the old codfish' really meant to him, and then it seems as if he becomes an alley.

I would be really happy to get a few more reviews, so, if you enjoyed the chapter, please leave a comment.

Have a nice weekend,

Love

Yours Lywhn / Starflight