Hi, my dear readers,
Thank you so very much once again for the comments. Yes, finally Wendy and her brothers/cousin are back in Neverland. And even if on the island itself nothing has changed, the former Lost Boys and the siblings have changed and see many things with other eyes now. Yet they're far too happy to be back to realize anything different from the beginning.
In this chapter you'll meet one of the Indians again and also a special small, little guy the readers of the first story have become so fond of. And you also learn what happens in the 'Outer World' – in the Mainland – after the 'children's' disappearance.
Have fun,
Love
Yours Lywhn / Starflight
Chapter 7 – Good and Bad News
Peter led Wendy safely to the Nevertree, where she and the others greeted the new Lost Boys and unpacked their belongings. Seeing the condition the hideout was in, Wendy shooed the boys out after breakfast to put some order into the mess under the Nevertree. How was it possible that six boys could create so MUCH disorder? She had taken a liking to the new Lost Boys instantly, but they seemed to be even more wild than the former. Or had she forgotten just how unruly the others once had been?
While the boys raced off to the nearby lake to go swimming, Wendy changed into Hook's shirt to keep her dress clean. It barely reached her knees now, but she didn't care. She was alone and could move freely – such a difference compared to the tight dresses and the awful corset she usually had to wear.
She used the brief hour to clean the worst and to tidy the hideout. The alcove Peter had readied for her the second time she visited in Neverland was a little better than the rest. It appeared no one had slept there while she had been away. Yet she needed to change the linens and found a few clean ones in the chest Peter had stolen once from the Jolly Roger. Shaking her head, she was certain that the linens and blankets in it came from the ship, too. It seemed Peter still took many liberties when it came to things he needed.
It was late midday before Wendy was satisfied. Slipping back into her dress she took the dirty utensils and went to the lake where the boys lazed in the half-shadows. It was very warm today, as if the sun wanted to make up for the winter they'd just been through while Peter was away. For once, the boys weren't up to any pranks or adventures. And John, Michael and the former Lost Boys were glad for a real vacation after the stress at school – after all, these were their school holidays.
Washing herself and combing her hair, Wendy put everything back in the bag, spread the wet towel over a large stone and went to the boys nearby. She was greeted warmly, and before long and Runner and Jump-Jump asked for a story. Peter had often spoken of Wendy's talent of storytelling and now they were eager to hear it.
Wendy sat down in the middle of them all and began to alter the story of Sleeping Beauty, in which the prince didn't fight his way through thornbushes, but fought through robbers and a witch, the mother of the bad fairy that cursed the princess. The boys were delighted, and kept interrupting her with their exclamations, finally cheering as the prince won in the end and gave Sleeping Beauty the 'kiss of awakening.' Even John, Nibs and Slightly – who had heard another of her Sleeping Beauty versions – enjoyed the retelling.
Suddenly, the sun over the lake was blocked, and a huge shadow cooled them in the clearing. Tinker Bell – who had dozen off in Peter's hair – dashed into the nearby bushes. Looking up, John and the former Lost Boys could only gasp, while Wendy stared in enchanted awe at the sight in the sky. There they flew: two dragons, side by side – one a deep red, the other smaller one a sandy-grey. They flew gracefully, their passing breeze fanning the children. The red one bent his long neck back and let out a loud roar, and the children ducked out of instinct – even Peter, but he continued to grin.
"Oh. My. Stars!" Wendy whispered while she watched the powerful wings carrying the giant creatures away. "They… they are beautiful!"
Peter, who sat beside her, grinned. "Yes, they are impressive."
"'Impressive?'" Wendy continued to watch them as they flew into the distance. "Peter, they are… amazing!"
"Just wait until you see them up close. They're … well… something special."
"Show them respect and they will be polite, show arrogance suffer for it," a deep voice said from behind.
The boys were on their feet in a blink of an eye, and Peter's hand reached for the knife at his hip, then he relaxed when he saw the figure clad in sandy leather. Dark, almond-shaped eyes watched the children, while a smile ghosted the copper-skinned face with the first hint of aging wrinkles.
"Great Big Little Panther," Peter called and bowed slightly. "I'm happy to see you."
The Indian shaman came nearer. Two feathers adorned his braided black and grey hair, a leather chain with an amulet hung around his thick neck, wooden beads were embroidered onto his clothes in runic designs, and his feet were shod in moccasins.
Great Big Little Panther was the shaman of the Indian tribe that had found Neverland a long time ago on their flight from the white men who had conquered their land and seemed determined to kill every one of them. His wisdom was legendary on the island. It had been he who had hidden the prophecy concerning the dark warlock and gave it to Peter after the wizard and his army of dark creatures had invaded Neverland. Together with Chief Rain-in-the-Face, he had worked out a truce with Hook and his pirates that had multiplied in that truce many folds. The goblins, trolls, harpies and other evil creatures stood no chance against their army, combining the talents and wits of Elven and Indian warriors, pirates, Peter and his gang – though the battle had been on a razor's edge a few times.
The children adored the shaman. He was always kind to them. They could always count on his help when necessary, or on his wise advice when needed.
The man, now past middle age, looked at the boys and the girl benignly. "It fills my heart with joy to see the return of the friends of Little White Eagle. You were missed." His head turned toward Wendy. "And Brave Feather has become like the early morning – shining, fair and full of promise."
Wendy understood his poetry and blushed. Placing one hand over her heart, she bowed. "Thank you for the compliment. And my heart is light, too, because I behold the face of the honorable shaman again."
Her words, almost spoken in Indian fashion, pleased Great Big Little Panther, because he gave her one of his rare smiles. Then he glanced at John. "You took someone's heart with you when you left Neverland. Now you return as a young warrior. Tiger-Lily's day will be full of sun now that you have returned."
John's face flushed alarmingly, and the other boys hid their smiles. "I… I would be most happy to see her again," he croaked.
"Then you all are invited to join our celebration at the sun's lowering," Great Big Little Panther opened his arms to include them all.
"What celebration?" Peter asked, always ready for a party.
"Three of our braves have passed the first test to become warriors. For four days they were up in the mountains, without food or water, to purify their souls and to test their self-control. It was then their hearts would open to the Great Spirit and hear what He had to tell them. They all were blessed with the spirit animal of their soul and came back with visions the Great Spirit sent them."
"Spirit animal?" Bluffer asked. He was the tallest of the new Lost Boys and reached almost Peter's nose. He had a talent of making himself almost invisible or creating costumes and becoming someone else – tricks the boys had used in the past often to play pranks or avoid trouble.
"It's the spirit of the animal that fits your own character the best – it's a kind of soul-guardian," John explained.
The shaman turned to John in surprise. "Three-Powers knows more about our traditions and rites than most white people."
"'Three-Powers?" Cushys piped up. He was the smallest of the new Lost Boys, barely taller than the Twins had been. His blond mop of hair blew in the soft wind, and his green eyes were wide.
"He who goes by the name 'John' in the world of the white men, is now grown enough to be seen as a brave. Therefore we assign him a warrior's name – Three-Powers, because with the strength of three men he saved Tiger-Lily and opened the iron bars imprisoning them, allowing the crocodile to chase away Iron-Hand when he was a foe." Great Big Little Panther smiled again at John, who looked at him as if hearing something amazing. "Your heroic deeds were not forgotten. Such is your name from now on – just like the fight of Little White Eagle against our enemies will never be forgotten," the shaman added, laying a hand on Peter's shoulder, who bowed a little bit, grinning. Oh yes, he knew how to be polite – when necessary.
"What will be my name when I'm older?" Michael asked. "After all, I stopped Akeele with my teddy-bear."
The shaman chuckled quietly. "I think, your name will be Little Bear – because the spirit of the bear you used to give you his courage to go against the large black man."
Michael beamed and grinned at Wendy, who hugged him about the shoulders. "It seems all those books about the Indians was not for naught, Three-Powers," she teased her brother, whose face resembled tomato by now. Then she winked at Michael. "Little Bear, you can use that courage the next time you face your math teacher."
The red-headed boy rolled his eyes and grimaced at his sister, not wanting to be reminded of school just then.
"So, when will this celebration start?" Peter asked.
"After sundown, when the stars are bright. Some of the Good Neighbors will attend as well, playing music with our drums and pipes. Maybe you will play something for us, too?" he pointed at Peter's pipe. The boy's eyes lit up.
"I would like that! When there's music around, I like to play my pipe." He knew that the Indians referred to the Good People as the 'Good Neighbors.' This was a common practice in a few parts of Great Britain (mainly Wales and Scotland).
They agreed to arrive at the Indian village at sundown, and then Great Big Little Panther quietly disappeared down the path, while the children lingered longer at the shores of the lake. A few of them collected buckets of berries for lunch, Wendy told another story and then it was about time to get ready for the feast. It was then Wendy realized that she had allowed the day to get away from her without visiting the Jolly Roger – and she was even more eager to see a certain pirate captain again.
'Tomorrow,' she promised herself. 'Tomorrow after breakfast it's the first thing I will do!'
But the evening would hold a surprise. And for once she didn't think of her family at home…
*** PP *** PP ***
It was very quiet in the Darling house. Mary had woken up to a lonely bed with a note beside her from her husband. George had gone to work very early, like he'd announced the day before, and let her know that he would be back in the afternoon to speak with Viscount Ashford, to advise him to take it slowly with Wendy. So, her husband had also recognized how uncharacteristically silent and melancholy their daughter had been the day prior. Even tired, she was usually talkative and merry, but yesterday she had worn an expression more appropriate to facing an execution.
Getting ready for the day, Mary couldn't seem to get very far. The children had their own bathroom, but hers was occupied by Aunt Millicent, who was still so enthusiastic about the prospect of her niece marrying a viscount that she hummed as she washed. She took more time there than George and Mary spent there together. Sighing, Mary knew that she had to wait until Millie finished, so she readied her clothes for the day, made the beds and then listened again for noises from the nursery.
Millicent was still humming and singing snatches – even if couldn't "carry a tune in a basket" – and then Mrs. Darling listened outside the doors of the rooms of the boys and Wendy. Silence. So, were they still asleep? Well, it was their first day of the Easter holidays and they had earned a lie-in. Yet … they were usually up at this time of a morning, especially the beginning of holidays.
Deciding to give them more time, Mary went downstairs, in her nightgown and house coat. Knowing that her husband had breakfasted near the bank earlier, and that Millicent would need more time, she freed Nana from the dining room and let her into the back garden. Liza, their servant, wouldn't show up for another hour, so the whole morning was a peaceful one for Mrs. Darling, it seemed.
Hearing the door of the bathroom slam and her sister-in-law return to her room – still humming – Mary listened once again for some noise from the nursery or Wendy's room.
Nothing. That was… odd.
Nana appeared beside her and looked up toward the ceiling, whining softly. She was old now, but her fine instincts still worked. Though her hearing wasn't as good, it was still better than any of the humans in the house. She knew that the children were no longer present.
Barking, she led Mary to the door that led to the front hall and the staircase. Standing at the bottom of the stairs, she barked again. Mary had learned long ago to trust the dog's instincts and signals – even if her husband had a different opinion. The lack of any noises, the eerie silence… Something was wrong!
And then she remembered the last night as she was disturbed in her sleep for a moment. The loud crowing, the voice that shouted something about 'away' – a boy! Laughter in the air – the laughter of children. Could it be that…
Gathering the skirt of her nightgown and dressing gown, she ran up the stairs to the nursery; Nana following. She opened the door and saw the rumpled beds, but no trace of the boys. Nana came in, sniffed and barked; her tail straight and her hackles raised. Her heart sank as she returned to the first floor and knocked at the bathroom door. "John, Wendy, Robert? Anybody in there?"
No answer.
What, if Peter Pan had come and taken them away, back to…
Nana had trotted to the door that led to Wendy's room and barked urgently.
Knowing in her heart what she would find, Mary opened the door. It was icy cold inside; she stared at the open window, the unused bed, and then at the empty old suitcase on the floor in front of the wardrobe. She knew what that bag usually held: The clothes Wendy had brought with her the last time she had been away at this mystical island. Now it was empty.
Nana had gone to the suitcase, sniffed again and then went to the window; whining.
Mary knew what it meant. And when she saw a note propped on the desk lamp, she almost whimpered herself. She took the letter with shaking fingers, and pressing the other hand against her trembling lips, she read the message her daughter had left for her.
Closing her eyes, she fought against the rising tears, while she let her head fall.
Gone! The children had flown away again.
All of their careful plans to prevent this had been for naught! That flying boy had come and had taken all of the children with him! If he had watched for this opportunity, or perhaps Wendy had somehow called for him, she didn't know. It didn't matter. All that mattered was that the children were back on that mystical island … that … Neverland. They were back in a realm full of magical creatures and dangers the modern world would never believe.
'Don't worry about us, Peter will take good care of us. And I'm certain that Captain Hook will intervene, too, if necessary. Like I told you, he helped us the last time we were there…'
Yes, the boy would watch over his friends – as much as a child his age could. And, no, it didn't reassure her at all. As far as she understood Wendy and the others, Peter Pan was full of mischief and lived for adventure, which was why they were in danger the last time!
And Captain Hook? Well, even if the pirate seemed to have had some sort of change of heart, Mary knew deep in hers that the man represented a completely different kind of danger to a seventeen-year-old Wendy! And that unnerved her the most. Her daughter had grown into a beautiful young woman, and her energetic spirit attracted men like moths to candlelight, as Mary had observed. She knew that the captain would be no exception. And Wendy's fascination for the man was -
"Where is everyone?"
The voice behind her startled Mrs. Darling, and she whirled around, note in hand. Only now she felt Nana's warm body pressed against her legs – almost comforting her. "Millicent!" she breathed, calming her racing heart, "I didn't hear you coming!"
The woman stood in the doorway, still dressed for her morning toilette.
Millicent stared at the open suitcase and the sheet of paper her sister-in-law held in her hand. She, too, knew instantly what had happened. "No," she whispered, and whipped the letter from Mary's hand. Her breath rather grew quick. "Sweet Lord, how… how could she do something like this to us! Now! Only hours before the viscount show up? Doesn't she realize that this is the chance of a lifetime? Perhaps the only one she'll ever get? Suitors of that position are not waiting in line for her hand! And what does she do? She runs away with that wild boy!" She pressed the note back into Mary's hands. "She will be eighteen in five months, practically a spinster, and she still acts like a little girl! Wasting an opportunity like that – incomprehensible! What do they teach these days at Roedean? How to throw away the chance of a good, safe life? What do we tell the viscount now? What-"
"Is that all you can think about?" Mary interrupted her, pale cheeks growing pink with rising ire. Millicent looked at her haughtily, but Mary continued, "Wendy is off with the boys to this dangerous island, and all you can grouse about is-"
"You read the letter, didn't you?" Millicent snapped. Incensed by Mary's tone. "That 'incredible little hero' of hers will watch over them. Oh, and don't forget that ominous pirate captain, who… what was it she always said about him? 'His eyes turn red before he guts you'?" A mocking expression appeared on her plain face. "Really, Mary, I wouldn't worry for any danger Wendy could fall prey to on that ridiculous island, after all she has two superb bodyguards, better even than His Majesty, I'd wager."
Nana watched the two humans and grumbled. Her fine senses felt the argument brewing.
Mary took a deep breath to stay calm. "I know those two seemed to keep Wendy and the boys safe the last time, yet I fear for Wendy for another reason entirely."
"And right you are," Millicent nodded vigorously, making the bun at the top of her head bobble loosely. "She may have the body of a grown up, but inside she is still a child." – Well, that wasn't what Mary had in mind, but she bit her tongue. – "What is wrong with that girl?" Millicent continued her tirade. "All this daydreaming and fantasizing about becoming an author! And there I thought she would mature in Roedean, or at least her friend, Victoria Ashford, would have a good influence on her. But look what happens when she's alone for a few minutes! She embarrasses her family by running away –"
"Did you ever think that she couldn't bear the pressure you put on her anymore!" Mary exploded. Her sister-in-law gaped at her, silent with shock for once, and so Mary continued, "All that babble about marriage and her marrying nobility frightened her. That was clear enough yesterday. She is not ready for that. Hell's bells, Millicent, she's only seventeen, not even finished with school! Most young women – and even those of the classes – begin to explore their life when school is over! I want her to have the time I never had. George proposed when I turned eighteen and, believe me, in the beginning it was very hard to head a household, to find a place in a new society, and not only be a good wife, but someone George could rely on. Wendy has the chance now to explore life before she marries – just like her friends. But the only thing you have on your mind is getting a husband for her as quickly and as possible, in the highest class possible."
Millicent's expression clearly showed she was offended. "This is still the best avenue for a young girl to find a husband who can guarantee her financial security. Without status, she'll be forced to earn her livelihood by herself, like so many other young women now. And look what becomes of them! When I see these suffragettes on the streets, chaining themselves to fences, attacking policemen, running around with hand-made posters and challenging our social order, I … I am appalled!"
Mary frowned. "Do you really think Wendy would destroy shopwindows in the Bond-Street or send letter bombs?" she scoffed, referring to the incidents of the prior year. "My daughter is self-confident, most assuredly, but no criminal!"
"No, she is not. But you don't want her to become one of those 'New Women' either. Wendy's talking about becoming a writer and avoiding courtship. That could be the first step in a wrong direction." She shook her head. "Don't forget, George is no longer a simple clerk, but is climbing the social ladder as well. So a good match for Wendy is still possible – but only if she stops dreaming of fairies, pirates and foreign countries. No serious man wants a wife like that, and she would be left unmarried. An old spinster." Millicent spat the word again as if it tasted bad.
Mary's eyes had narrowed. "Don't exaggerate. Wendy is still half a child, but you have demanded her to grow up for years now – when she was only twelve, and it scared her away then and again now. You and George are forcing her into a role she isn't ready for yet. You didn't care how unhappy she was to be sent away from home to a boarding school-"
"To become a well-educated, self-reliant young lady," Millicent threw in.
"Yes, but she is only allowed to be self-reliant when she does what you and George want her to. What she thinks, what she feels, what she wants and fears doesn't matter to you. Wendy is a sensible girl with high spirits and more intelligence than it suits your target class, and therefore you wedge her in until she can barely breathe anymore. And now the pressure became too much and so she followed her mysterious friend back to a world where she can be what she wants – a world that is dangerous, yes, but she prefers the danger instead of remaining home, because she isn't happy here."
Millicent frowned and her eyes flashed. "So it's George's and my fault that Wendy ran away? You should have taught your daughter to be more respectful, to take responsibilities and to obey, instead of-"
"My daughter is no marionette!" Mary said sharply. "My daughter is a strong girl who knows what she wants – and being trapped in a life she loathes but may be forced into made her flee." She bent down to stroke Nana's head to calm herself, and closed the suitcase. "By the way, shouldn't you be more concerned about Robert – at least a little?"
Millicent stiffened. "Pardon?"
"Well, he is away, too, isn't he, and he's only fifteen." Mary put the suitcase into the wardrobe. "He and my sons also chose to return to Neverland. Except for Michael and John, it's their old home. Doesn't that give you something to think about? I know that Blake and Michael have problems with their teacher at school, but talking with the professor accomplished nothing. George only tells me that they need to learn to behave, then everything will be all right, instead of seeing the man himself. And Robert is interested in medicine, yet you want him to become a lawyer, just like your father. You demand the children obey your own wishes and ambitions instead of listening to them and hearing what they want."
"Listen to children?" Millicent gasped. "The fledgling learns from the hen, not the other way around. Your daughter and sons should thank their Maker on their knees that they can grow up in a home like this, well-cared for and sent to the best sch-"
Mary slammed open the window down rather hard (but allowed it to remain unlocked) before she turned around again. "And yet they all have problems no one asks about. I do what I can, but you – and often George, too – only make demands on them. And now, after the horse has left the barn, so to speak, all you worry about is what shall we tell the suitor why he can't court Wendy – or 'what will the neighbors say.' Being embarrassed is worse for you than the boys' and Wendy's safety."
The two women stared at each other. There had been arguments before, but never like this.
Nana whimpered and lay down; her large head between her paws, still looking from one to the other.
Millicent pointed at the letter. "If I were you, I'd think about how you're going to explain to George that the children ran off with this wild boy – again! – and what excuse you're going to use when the viscount shows up." Head held high, she stalked toward the door, but before she left, she looked back. "And Mary, try maintain our family's honor when you explain to Viscount Ashford why he can't see Wendy for the next few days. It would damage our reputation and George's status at the bank if it became known that the children of this house run away when they like, and that the daughter would rather explore a tropical island in her nightgown than attend a nobleman of higher rank."
She swept out the door, her continuing grousing quite clear as she returned to the guestroom. "What Wendy is going to miss in the next weeks … The horse-race at Epsom, the opening of The Oval, the boat race Oxford versus Cambridge – all these events, all the opportunities to be introduced to that class … and she runs away. I can't believe it!"
Wendy's mother closed her eyes and sighed deeply. Millicent's continued ambitions were indeed tiresome. Mary loathed quarrels, but during the argument with her sister-in-law, she realized one thing: Everything she said and accused the older woman and her own husband of was true. They had put too much pressure on Wendy and had cornered her. The same went for the boys. And she, Mary Darling, had not intervened. So, she was to blame as well.
But this was secondary. Her first concern was entwined with the boys and Wendy, because even if Neverland seemed to come straight from a child's dream, it was also a dangerous place. This much she had realized after the last adventure they'd been through. The dangers were not only strange creatures from the Faery-folk, but also from the jungle, the sea, the animals – and the pirates.
Wendy was not too naïve to recognize the pirate crew as what they truly were: Scallywags. After she had described them to her mother, Mary a good idea how to picture them: They were criminals, no doubt about it; easily angered and incalculable, only controlled by the will of one single man. And then the Indians… She knew that John had read a lot about the different tribes in America over the last years – and she wondered why – but there was always a chance of breaking a taboo or violating a forbidden unknown custom.
She went to Wendy's desk, where her schoolbooks were piled. Obviously her daughter had simply emptied her satchel and used the bag. And the missing books on the bookshelf told her that Wendy had taken some of them with her. But she wanted more information about Neverland.
Going through the books and exercise books, she found one of the two books her daughter had already written about her adventures in Neverland. Mary had never read them, because Wendy was very private about them, and Mrs. Darling had accepted that – after all, a diary was very personal. Wendy had said that Neverland held secrets that shouldn't be revealed to people who had never been there, and even if it sounded odd, Mary had respected her wishes.
But no longer. She had to know what her children would face on the island.
And she wanted to learn more about one particular danger: Captain Hook. She didn't fear that the man would harm or kill her, but the influence the man would have on her daughter. She avoided this topic while arguing with her sister-in-law, because she knew that the first thing Millicent would ask after the children's return was 'if Wendy hadn't done something unthinkable with the captain'. Often George's sister had the tact of a sledgehammer.
Sitting by Wendy's desk, Mary held the book with the red cover in her hand, feeling its weight; wondering if she should really read it and what she might find. Then she opened it and began to browse. Nana sat next to her, head in Mary's lap, huge soulful eyes watching her. Mary was surprised to find many illustrations in the book – perfect representations, not the childlike scribbles of earlier times. She realized that Wendy's artistic talent had blossomed since her first stay in Neverland – as if the magical island had freed her abilities.
Skimming through the pages, she found a sketch of a boy with tousled light hair, a winning smirk and bright eyes, clothed in leaves: Peter Pan. Examining him, she came to the conclusion that the boy could whisk away any girl he wanted, yet he had chosen her Wendy.
Additional drawings were of the boys, an older Indian man, and some whose images practically screamed 'pirates.' There were sketches of a little creature with a big round nose, large eyes, long pointed ears and funny clothes. She had drawn fairies and gnomes, other pages showed fierce beasts, wearing armor and carrying weapons.
And then Mary's breath hitched as she turned another page and saw, for the first time, a man who only could be the infamous Captain Hook. There was no doubt who he was, even without that metal claw. It was a portrait of him, seen from Wendy's shorter height, catching him in a movement.
She pondered the image. The captain resembled George, but only at first glance. James Hook differed from her husband a lot, and not just the clothes.
Wild black curls framed a handsome face with high cheekbones, a straight nose and an arrogant mouth, accented by a moustache and goatee. And his eyes … well, the drawings were done with ink and lead pencil, obviously not 'blue as forget-me-nots,' yet they seemed to look straight at Mary and almost pierce her soul – challenging, threatening, mocking. He seemed to be somewhere in his thirties, but given the time the man came from, he could be younger. And there was nothing 'old' about him. He was in the prime of life – and, if Mary understood the story correctly, alone on a ship with forty crewmembers and 'lonely,' as Wendy had remarked. It took very little imagination to guess how he would react seeing Wendy again, all grown up. That dolphin bracelet was proof of his attraction to her even when she had been nothing more than a child.
Propping her chin in her hand, Mary groaned quietly. If this drawing was accurate, then the man was a seductive devil, with no reason for self-control – and her daughter was a hopeless romantic, who was already fascinated by 'her villain' as a child. She hadn't warned Wendy of what truly occurred between man and woman after marriage, but her warnings would not be necessary if the pirate desired her. Hook was an experienced 'man of the world' who could easily lure her daughter into something that would cost her reputation, her honor. She desperately hoped that Wendy could resist the temptation this …man … would be to her, or she would forfeit any chance of a life as a respectable lady for all time.
*** PP *** PP ***
Hook had no idea that a warm-hearted lady in London was closely examining a picture of him, and that this woman was very worried about his relationship to her daughter. He lay in bed in the Black Castle, still asleep and dreaming, for once, of nothing. He and the few men who had gone ashore with him had tramped all the way from the Ancient Forest to the semi-habitable ruin through ice and snow, reaching the castle late in the evening. Thoroughly chilled, tired and hungry, Mason and Smee had attempted something that could be called dinner, but in the end it had been the little lodgers in the kitchen and the storerooms, who had served a meal: The Hobgoblins.
This group of mischief-makers had lived at the Black Castle since it was built, and usually they loved serving the humans who stayed there. But there was open enmity between them and the ship's cook Cookson which had resulted in chaos and no dinner. At least, that had been the case until the war with S'Hadh occurred, when Wendy showed up and saved one of them from Cookson's wrath.
Hook had been forced to intervene once again to save her from Cookson's fury – and the interactions between the pirates and the Hobgoblins had improved afterwards. The prior evening, it had been they who relieved Smee and Mason from their disorganized attempts to prepare dinner and get something hot to drink. Hobgoblins were tricksters, but if they decided to help, they were more efficient in a kitchen than a dozen cooks. Within half an hour they had served dinner. They also served grog that was not only made of rum, water and sugar, but also of a kind of ale they brewed for themselves. It made the pirates much more amenable to their "roommates".
It's true that the Good People can hold a lot more alcohol than mortals – especially members of the bogeys. And so the grog they served had a profound effect on the pirates.
As Hook crawled into bed long after midnight, he wasn't tipsy, but crosseyed drunk – and this from only from two mugs of the stuff. It usually took a lot more to put him under the table. But after the long walk through ice and snow (again cursing Peter Pan for leaving the island now while the pirates were ashore,) the nagging hunger, and pondering all he'd learned from Niam, James Hook was weary, and it didn't take much to put him under. The pirates and their captain fell asleep when heads hit pillows. Yes, the Black Castle had pillows.
In the late morning, one of them woke up, used the head, and lay down again, sleeping off the hangover. Smee tried to wake his captain later that morning, but for naught. Opening one bloodshot eye, he only growled something that sounded like "Go to hell!" or "Let me sleep!" before he passed out again. Smee didn't mind. He was hung over himself and was soon again snoring in front of the open fireplace the Hobgoblins had so kindly kept burning. They all slept until late afternoon.
Hook woke up first, finding he was hungry and with a certain 'morning' urge. After visiting the head, and opening the curtains, he went to Smee's room, and discovered him snoring like a bear in winter. Hook grimaced, shaking the bo'sun awake. Prying his eyes open, the Irishman blinked up at him.
"By Neptune's fishtail, Smee, why didn't you wake me? It's afternoon already!"
Smee groaned. Had he not attempted that very thing? Yes, he remembered it clearly. "I woke ye, Cap'n, but ye wished me t' the devil and went back to sleep. So I did, too."
Frowning, Hook thought carefully, and vaguely remembered Smee bending over him. "I did?" he asked. As the older man nodded, he sighed. "Well, Davy Jones and God alone knows what these little beasts put in our grog." He turned towards the door. "Get ready for the day and then come over to help me out. It's quite warm outside, so we know the little pest is back. And I hope for his sake with his friends!" He slammed the door closed behind him.
Smee sat up and rubbed his beard, then reached for his spectacles. "His friends or just t' one particular?" he grumbled and pulled the covers aside. "If Pan's missed t' li'l missy again, t' cap'n'll snap!"
An hour later, the pirates were ready to set out for the longboat. Hook wore his dark blue captain's coat from the day prior, dark breeches and a fresh shirt beneath the jacquard waistcoat, combed hair curled freely over his shoulders and back. He sipped at the tea Smee had brewed in the kitchen downstairs and waited for breakfast along with his men at the other end of the table. Suddenly the door to the corridor swung open and banged against the wall. A voice shouted happily, "SHE'S BACK!"
Startled, Hook almost jumped out of his skin and spilled most of his tea on the table. "Dammit!" he cursed and stared at the malefactor, recognizing the Hobgoblin in question. "Bumblyn! Soda and cardamon, can't a man have a decent cup of tea!"
Angrily. he glared at the little creature, who was about a cubit tall. Fire red, wooly hair beneath a pointy cap, large blue eyes over a bulbous nose shone in a sun-weathered face, little hands held a tail that ended in a tuff of red hair, too. This visitor was clad in trousers, a doublet and a shirt, all which had seen better days.
"She's back!" he repeated, and skipped happily to the captain; watched warily by the six crew-members of the Jolly Roger. "One of Kailen's pixie-brothers told Harrump, the gnome, and he told it my friend Freddy." He stared up at the man, who still didn't move. "Didn't you hear me, silly man? SHE'S BACK!"
Feeling the half amused gazes of his men resting on him, Hook's eyes narrowed. Okay, this was quite enough. "CLENCH IT!" he barked and pinched his nose with his left hand; feeling the pain in his temples returning. "Thanks, now the headache is coming back!" he growled.
Silence was the answer, yet the captain knew the Good People well to not expect it. Glancing down again, he saw that the Hobgoblin hadn't left, but climbed on the table to look Hook in the eye. "Don't you feel well?" he piped up.
"How could we, after the poison you and your accomplices gave us?" Hook snapped. Usually he would have thrown the creature out of the room, but this was Bumblyn – nuisance and once a loyal ally who had accompanied Wendy as she rode up the Mount of No Return to save his – Hook's – neck. It was the same Hobgoblin Wendy had protected against Cookson's murderous wrath and who had followed her wherever she went.
After the war and things started to return to normal, Bumblyn had stayed with Wendy, Peter and the boys, but as the children returned to London, they couldn't take him with them. So he went back to his own folk at the Black Castle, waiting for Wendy's return. And now he stood at Hook's reach and grinned like it was Christmas and Easter and New Year's all at once.
"It was only some grog," Bumblyn answered the rhetorical question, then he beamed, "She's back!" He clapped his hands. "Isn't this WONDERFUL AND…"
"STOP IT!" Hook snarled and rubbed his face. He remembered why he didn't like the Faery-folk and the bogeys! They were so damn cheerful and carefree – just like Pan. Well, he had called him 'fairy-child' a few times, and it fit the boy.
Bumblyn ignored the man's irritation. This mortal was a mass of bad moods. "You're not happy that she's back?" he asked incredulously.
"Who?" Hook sighed. It was clear he would not be enjoying the tea until this nuisance had finished what he came for.
He quieted at once to stare up at the man, then slapped his forehead. " 'Who', he asks. Silly mortals, you have to explain every detail in small words!" Ignoring the captain's increasing ire, he looked gleefully into the scowling blue eyes of the one-handed man. "By the Leprechaun's airy fiddle, I speak of her – the Wendy-lady!"
Hook turned to, well, it might have been a pillar of marble, feeling an unfamiliar warmth in his belly – the aftermath of the 'grog', no doubt! Wordlessly he stared down at the merry Hobgoblin and said slowly, almost threatening, "If you're joking, then…"
"Bumblyn makes no joke when it comes to his friend." He spread his little arms and squeaked happily, "The Wendy-lady is back! In the morning she came with Peter Pan and the other boys!"
Hook didn't know what he was feeling, but it came straight from the depth of his whole being like a wave. Joy – she was back. Relief – she was back. A warm pool in his belly – she was back… The marble hue left his face and his cheeks flushed, and not from the grog.
Hell bells and the devil's pointy little tail, wasn't he able to think clearly anymore – only because he learned that the little madcap was ba… Stop, he had repeated the last part often enough. He gritted his teeth, again irritated with himself. Getting all mushy inside over that half-grown girl back in Neverland was inacceptable. Pirate indeed! Blackbeard would whack him on the back and laugh his head off. And when he heard the subtle snickers from the other end of the table, he knew his men were obviously likewise amused.
His reputation was shot. And he hadn't even seen her again!
Clearing his throat he sat down; feeling their gazes and the wide smirk of the Hobgoblin. "Well, it took Pan long enough. He had more problems finding this slip of a girl than a squirrel finding its nuts," he commented wryly and sipped from his cup of tea. "So, from now on we'll have to double the watch, gentlemen," Hook told them mockingly. "Pan's gang has expanded. And knowing that storyteller, we will soon face a new set of challenges."
The other buccaneers were guffawing now, while Smee returned; carrying a tray with breakfast. Recognizing the little person with Hook, he sighed. As an Irishman, he respected the Good People, but this Hobgoblin was worse at troublemaking than the others. He rightfully wore the name Bumblyn.
"What've ye done now, y' li'l mouse?" he asked, placing the tray on the table.
"Me telling your captain that the Wendy-lady is back," Bumblyn said and frowned at the mortal men.
Smee stared at him. "Aye?" he asked in alarm and glanced at his commander. Seeing the sparks in Hook's eyes, he knew that there wouldn't be a peaceful moment for the days to come. Retiring to a faraway island suddenly sounded appealing – even if he knew that Hook would never let him retire.
Taking a slice of the warm bread slathering it with marmalade (how did those little walking and talking stomachs make it?) Hook rearranged his face to look bored. He casually asked Bumblyn, "And where are Pan and his friends now?"
The Hobgoblin grinned, happy not to lie to the man, "I don't know where they are now, but I know where they will be."
"You're a seer now, too?" the captain sneered.
"Ah, Captain, we see and hear more than you mortals," Bumblyn said proudly. "But knowing where Peter and the others will be takes no seer. Kailen's brother was at the clearing where the children bathed. He told me the wise man with the copper skin invited them to a great feast this evening" – he made a formal bow to the men – "and all are welcome."
Hook, having slathered his slice of bread, said casually, "Is that so? I expect that a young Indian lady will 'welcome' a certain boy with spectacles rather warmly." Again his men chuckled. Every crewmember on the Jolly Roger knew that the chief's daughter Tiger-Lily and John were quite … fond.
Looking at his companions, Hook lifted a brow. "He said that all are welcome. Well, boys, what did you think of some roast venison, corn-bread and spiced potatoes instead of rowing today?" He was answered with enthusiastic cheers. "I thought so," he smirked.
Smee watched him thoughtfully; knowing it was not the tasty banquet that steered his captain's decision. And one glance at his comrades told him that they thought the same…
TBC…
Yes, Bumblyn is now one of the party – and he will become a very important part of everything later. It's good to have a Hobgoblin on your side, hence his mischief and clumsiness, because bogeys have many talents which can come in handy…
The argument between Mary and Millicent was somehow overdue. George and his sister always regarded especially Wendy always as a grownup, first as small one, now as full 'reasonable' adult, and have neither patience nor understanding for her situation that they first has to come to terms with herself before she will be ready to become a woman. All right, Wendy doesn't make it easy – neither for them, nor for herself, because her heart beats still for Neverland and its habitants. And, without knowing it, her feelings have grown for someone she instinctively compares any other man to…
In the next chapter it finally happens: The reunion. Not only John and Tiger-Lily will see each other again, but also a certain pirate-captain and 'his' storyteller. And I can already promise that it will be delightful…
I hope, you liked the new chapter and like always I'm eager to get some reviews. They are like the applause for a singer/dancer/actor, and it's said that applause is the nourishment of an artist, so don't let me 'starve' - *laugh*.
Have a nice weekend,
Love
Yours Lywhn / Starflight
