Angelica had grown tired from their long journey. Her brother clung to
her
pajama leg, his head bobbing sleepily. Mackenzie rode Peter’s back, she
was
so weary, but it was almost more work to stay atop Peter that it was to
fly.
They had been flying for so long and it seemed as though they still had
forever to go.
“Second star to the right and straight on ‘til morning”, Peter had said
was
the way to Neverland, but they had taken so many rights and lefts and
passed so many mornings that Angelica began to wonder if those were
truly
the directions. They weren’t, of course, as Peter had the habit of
saying
whatever it was that popped into his head.
Suddenly, Neverland was at their feet and they were instantly awake.
Neverland appeared to them just as they had dreamed it and, yet at the
same
time it was very different.
“Peter,” Braeden left his older sister and was now tugging at Peter’s
hand.
“I wanna see the pirates.”
“Later,” Peter replied, picking up his speed, much to the dismay of the
children who wanted to look around. But Peter had other things he
wanted
to do.
The children were immediately taken to the Home Underground. Peter did
not
take the time to fit them for trees to the hidden home. Instead, he
rather
hastily shoved them each down a different tree, pausing only if he had
to
make adjustments to one of them to make them fit properly. Peter felt a
great urgency rush upon him, though he was not sure why. He felt it
best to
get his visitors concealed as soon as possible.
The Home Underground was in nothing short of utter chaos. The Lost Boys
were running about like a band of rabid monkeys chasing one another,
bouncing off walls, and overturning anything that was not tied down. In
the
midst of all the bedlam, sat Aria with her feet flung over the back of
a
wooden chair and her head hanging off of the round seat so that she was
viewing the scene upside-down. It could be seen that she had already
made
use of Pudge’s gift. She had turned the deerskin into a sleeveless
tunic, a
skirt (one that was fit for running in), a pair of shorts (to wear
under
the skirt to make tumbling proper), and a sort of foot binding of her
own
design that left her heels and toes exposed. A strip of hide was used
as a
makeshift belt to give the outfit a more feminine form (tomboy though
she
was, she was still bred a princess and thus certain girlish traits had
been
ingrained in her character). The remaining skin, and there was a good
deal
of it as deer in Neverland were quite large, was set aside to later be
made
into a jacket and perhaps some boots.
Peter, forgetting his manners and his guests, bounded in front of her.
Aria
swung herself into an upright position and gave him a curious look as
he
stood there with his hands on his hips looking quite pleased with
himself.
“Did the Boys fit you for a tree?” he asked, casting the now subdued
Lost
Boys a sidelong glance.
“Nope,” was the pithy reply.
Peter regarded her quizzically.
“How’d you get down then?”
The corners of Aria’s mouth turned up into a smirk. “Used your tree.”
A communal gasp was heard from the Boys and a deathly hush fell over
the
Home for there was no greater taboo to be broken than to use Peter’s
tree.
Angelica and her siblings cowered slightly, sensing the tension of
which
they did not know the cause.
In actuality, Aria had used Lanky’s tree to reach the subterranean
dwelling. Even she knew wiser that to fracture such a sacred taboo. She
did
not, however, have any trouble allowing Peter to think that she did not
possess such wisdom.
“You did what?” Peter’s glare was fearsome.
The anxiety in the room over what might occur was excruciating. It was
speedily emancipated when Tinkerbell snickered signaling to Peter that
Aria
was bluffing. He drew his sword and let out a mighty holler. Instantly,
the
previous chaos resumed as all bodies flew into frenzied motion, save
for
Angelica, Braeden, and Mackenzie.
The hullabaloo became so enormous that Angelica could no longer bear
it.
She attempted to gain their attention by shouting, but it was to no
avail.
It took banging on a large, overturned, black kettle, like one would a
gong, to quiet them enough to be heard.
“Please,” she entreated. “Use your indoor voices. You’re being much too
loud.”
The Lost Boys stared at her, their eyes brimming with adoration, for
they
now knew that they at last had a new mother.
Peter and Aria disappeared very early the next morning without so much
as a
word to the others concerning where they might be headed. This was much
to
Angelica’s vexation for she had hoped to spend more time with Peter by
herself. Left alone with a group of ruffians (Braeden and Mackenzie had
been quickly absorbed into the tribe and did nothing to help their
sister),
Angelica found it impossible to control the Lost Boys, which now
included
one girl, and she eventually gave up trying altogether, turning her
attention to tidying up the Home Underground. This was somehow not
quite
the way she envisioned spending her first day in Neverland.
On a whim, Peter took Aria to Black Castle. During their stay, they
reenacted the now infamous battle that had occurred between Peter and
Hook
on that very spot (Peter won, naturally). When they tired of swordplay,
the
duo pretended to be pirates searching for the hidden treasure of
Barbeque,
the ghastly pirate who feared no man but Hook.
It was as they were preparing to leave that their adventure truly began.
“And she’s going to tell us stories and mend our pockets,” Peter was
saying
as he and Aria hopped from treacherous rock to treacherous rock that
jutted
out of the water surrounding the Castle. “And tuck us in at night.”
“I don’t want her to tuck me in,” Aria stated rather resentfully. “I
don’t
much want another mother.”
“It’s just make-believe,” Peter explained, coming to a halt. He stood
there
with his toes curled over the rock. “And anyway, she’s not wicked or
anything.”
“Maybe,” Aria said passively, none too keen on the idea, “if it’s only
pretend.”
“It is,” Peter assured her. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Peter engaged Aria in a game of Follow-the-Leader for it was his
intention
to lead her on to their next adventure, wherever that might occur. But
before they could fly away, two imposing shadows and a heavy net fell
over
them.
“Well, well, well,” clucked a voice with a rich Irish brogue. “Look-y
what
we caught.”
“Cap’n’ll be mighty pleased,” added a booming baritone.
Aria looked up and into the leering faces of Hook’s boson, Smee (the
Irish
brogue they heard), and his quartermaster, One-Eyed Jake. The princess
would not have been so fearful had it been Smee alone who captured them
(of
course, if it had been Smee alone, they would not have been caught for
he
was too pathetic a man to have managed such a feat). It was One-Eyed
Jake
who sent chills of peril down her spine. He was a great ogre of a man
and
ugly, too. His face was gnarled into a perpetual snarl (which I don’t
believe he could have undone if he tried) and his mouth was stained
with a
brown juice that darkened with each rhythmic spew of tobacco from his
hideous mouth. His head was absolutely hairless and the gleam
reflecting
off of it was evil. Two great gold earrings weighted down each earlobe,
stretching them to twice their normal length and he was tattooed with
graphics of every murderous tool known to man. Across his left eye sat
a
repugnant eye patch that covered the black, rotting socket where his
eye
had once been.
Now Jake had his own vendetta against Peter for it was Peter who had
cost
him his eye. A fortuitous encounter with the Eternal Youth led to a
brief
competition that ended with Peter gouging out Jake’s eye with his
dagger.
It was for this reason that One-Eyed Jake itched for another run in
with
the Boy. He sought a chance to repay Peter.
“Now, now, Jake,” chastised Smee, guessing the murderous agenda that
Jake
held. “That’s for the Cap’n to do.”
Jake grumbled his annoyance, swearing under his breath. He spat a
disgusting mouthful at the captives.
“What’ll we do, Peter?” whispered Aria. The situation seemed quite
hopeless
to her.
“Shhh!” commanded Peter. He put one finger to the side of his nose and
furrowed his brow in meditation.
“Let’s escort them to the boat now, Mr. Jake,” Smee smiled amicably at
the
two and wiggled his fingers at Aria. “It’s getting’ a mite chilly, now
isn’t it? Best get back to the ship before they catch their death of
cold.”
The boson and quartermaster laughed heartily for they knew that a cold
would not be the cause of death for Peter and his friend.
“I says we shackles ‘em in chains befores we put ‘em in the boat,” Jake
barked, his good eye twitching with spasms. “So’s there’s no chance of
‘em
escapin’.”
“There’s no time for that,” Smee returned, casting a sidelong glance at
the
heap of tangled iron chains that lay in the bottom of the dinghy. “The
Cap’n’s waitn’ and we mustn’t keep him.”
While the two pirates began arguing with each other, Peter was
calculating
their grand getaway. It should be pointed out here, that, for all their
wretchedness and wickedness, these buccaneers and their mates were none
too
clever and rather slow, save Hook of whom it would not be so
far-fetched to
say he was a mastermind of considerable wit and aptitude. You would
think
that it might have occurred to at least one of the bickering bandits to
confiscate Peter’s sword and dagger, lest he should use them to break
away.
But Smee, as we have mentioned, was relatively pitiable and Jake was
very
dull, so such a notion never once suggested itself to either man.
Peter knew all this and, naturally, took advantage of it. Deftly, he
slashed through the heavy cable of the net with his dagger and freed
them
from their imprisonment.
Smee and Jake were still squabbling and failed to notice that their
bounty
had slipped pass them. It was not until they heard the familiar crow of
success from high above them that they saw their blunder.
“Blast it!” roared One-Eyed Jake, foaming at the mouth. “They’ve gotten
away! This is your fault, Smee!”
“Oh, my,” was all that Smee could murmur for he was already thinking
how
dreadfully irate Captain Hook was going to be when he discovered that
Peter
had once again slipped through their slimy clutches. The Irish boson
swallowed hard as his hands went around his throat in a protective
gesture.
He knew all too well fury of Hook and the fate of those who incurred
his
wrath. For Hook had no qualms in shooting dead one who inhaled in a
manner
in which he disapproved.
Unfortunately for Smee, there was nothing that could be done to regain
what
was lost and very soon he would discover whether his life should be cut
short or not. And it was the dread of this unknown that gripped him.
With One-Eyed Jake cursing at them and vowing vengeance, Peter let out
a
final crow, one of glee this time, as he and Aria disappeared into the
mist.
At present, James Hook was lounging in his study, slowly dragging in
the
aroma of duel cigars. Betwixt his index and middle fingers of his left
and
only hand was delicately perched a contraption of his own genius that
allowed him smoke both cigars at once. His dark thoughts were consumed
with
discovering how he might overcome his two great weaknesses: being alone
and
unloved. It might appear, at first glance, that the solution to Hook’s
dilemma was unpretentious, but this was not so. In order to no longer
be
alone, he must find away to love and be loved and that was far easier
said
than done. Since each weakness was so intertwined with the other and
one
must be remedied in order for the other to be resolved, Hook’s task was
daunting, to say the least, and seemingly impossible.
Though the answers he sought eluded him, Hook felt certain that he
could
gain his bounty in the same manner in which he always did- that is,
take it
forcibly. But how and where to begin? These were the questions that
Hook
was mulling over when a jittery Smee skittered into his chamber.
Smee had learned that it was best to come clean with the truth when an
unfortunate incident occurred and not wait until Hook discovered it for
himself. You might not escape the hook for your honesty, but your fate
would most certainly be sealed if you sat on what you knew.
And so it with immense distress that Smee approached the reclining
figure
of James Hook, not quite confident that his heart would sustain him
through
the ordeal.
“What is it, Mr. Smee,” the captain’s words were clipped and precise.
Obscured by the shadows that haunted the space, Hook emerged even more
sinister than was usual. From out of the darkness wafted smoke rings
that
contained a certain noxious air to them.
It was quite clear from the aloof intonation of the captain’s voice
that
this was not the best of times to interrupt his brooding.
“Well, now, Cap’n, t-t-t-there’s...there’s been-“By now, the boson was
quivering so much that it was causing him to stutter rather brutally.
“Smee,” Hook said portentously; there was a distinct edge of
provocation in
his cultured speech. “Is your purpose to stand there and drivel or do
you
have something to say?”
Directly, Smee’s jaw clamped shut as he attempted to regain his
composure.
At last, he was able to wrap his tongue around the proper words and
expel
the whole calamitous tale.
There was a lethal silence that engulfed the chamber. Smee stood there
quaking with terror for the captain was sure to be enraged. Then, after
a
near eternity, Hook spoke.
“Am I to understand that you and Jake,” his voice was still and
hypnotic
like a snake before it strikes, “had Peter Pan, the bane of my
existence,
within your grasp and you let him escape?”
Now Smee was more petrified than he would have been if Hook had been
shouting his outrage. “It would seem that is the case,” he answered
stupidly.
Hook ran an elegant finger along the edge of his prosthetic appendage
that
glimmered viciously in the minimal lighting.
“Mr. Smee,” the words slid over Hook’s lips like wine, “Jake’s fate is
evident- it is the hook for him. If you wish to avoid the same
providence,
then I do hope you have news that will be of some use.”
The boson teetered unsteadily as though he was about to pass out. Luck
was
with him this day, for he did bear news that he felt would appease Hook.
“The Boy has a new mother,” he announced, wringing his hands nervously.
“The redhead,” Hook mused aloud.
“No, Cap’n,” Smee corrected cautiously. “There’s another. One called
Angelica.”
“This is interesting. Go on.”
“The redhead- her name is Aria.”
“And?”
“That’s all I know, Cap’n.”
“Not acceptable, Mr. Smee.”
Fear reclaimed Smee, for his life was still endangered.
“Sir?”
“I want to know more about this Angelica. But the redhead- I want to
know
everything about her and what she’s to do with Pan.”
“Y-yes, Cap’n,” Smee ducked his head and cowered as he edged towards
the
door.
“Oh,” Hook took a long drag on his cigars. “There’s one more thing.”
“Cap’n?”
“If you fail me in this,” there was a pause as he exhaled the smoke,
“there’ll be a hook with your name on it.”
The Lost Boys, along with Mackenzie, were on an excursion to Mermaids’
Lagoon. It was while they were playing on Marooner’s Rock, that they
discovered the first of many peculiar markings they were to see around
the
island. It was about the size of a fairy’s wing and as black as soot in
the
shape of a shark’s tooth. The Boys and Mackenzie stared at it
dumbfounded,
for they did not know whence it came or who had left it. It greatly
disturbed them and they decided that they must tell Peter straightaway.
