Disclaimer: Pirates of the Caribbean and all related characters belong to Walt Disney, Gore, Jerry, Ted and Terry.
Replies: Andy Foxx, Thank you. I wanted to write Gillette and Groves after reading so many great fic at the LJ Norrington community. The Shoelessone and Brokenspar have also written them well.
Ogreatrandom, thank you. I hope you enjoy this chapter.
Sudoku, thank you. It’s good thing I haven’t come across such fics. I have been inspired to write about Andy and Theo from the above mentioned writers and the community.
Chapter 1: A Rude Awakening.
Commodore James Norrington did not wake up to the voice of his serving maid, Christine, announcing it was time for breakfast, nor did he wake up to the sounds of various tropical birds singing outside his window. It wasn’t even a knock at the door of his house from either a messenger or Gillette or Groves. He was expecting his two lieutenants to stop by in the morning to see if the effects of what he drunk had worn off.
“You idiot,” William Turner’s loud voice reached James’s ears before a bucket of cold water soaked his body.
“What?’ James jolted up the second the water struck his skin. “What is the meaning of this?” He sought out Turner and found the youth standing only a few feet away next to an anvil. Anvil? That couldn’t be right. He didn’t have an anvil in his house. “Mr. Turner, you have been treading on my patience recently.” He was not seeing things. Turner was standing next to an anvil and behind him was a forge and slack tub.
James turned his head around and took in the sight of the hammers, tongs, bellows, swages, fullers and other blacksmith tools on one of the walls. He turned again when he heard the sound of a donkey and found the beast standing next to the revolving storage, containing a variety of swords. How the hell did he end up in Mr. Brown’s smithy?
“I could say the same to you,” Turner did not loose the disappointed expression on his face as he set the empty bucket down. “After what I did for you back at the fort.”
“What you did for me?” James grabbed onto the floor and recoiled when his fingers came across stone and straw. He closed his eyes, accepting the reality that he may have imagined Gillette and Groves escorting him home the night before. How drunk was he? He swore he had only consumed one glass of wine.
“There was a highly possibility that I may have been sent to the gallows myself if Elizabeth hadn’t intervened and Commodore Sparrow hadn’t softened.”
“I hadn’t-‘ He paused when the name sunk in. Did he hear right? Commodore Sparrow? “Jack Sparrow?” He stared at the youth, trying to figure him out. “Have you gone mad? Did you refer to Sparrow as commodore?”
“I was about to ask the same of you,” Turner bent over and held out his hand. “Why did you return to Port Royal?”
“Because I have a home here.” He accepted Turner’s offer. His eyes widened when he had grabbed Turner’s hand. He was not wearing the formal waistcoat he wore the night prior. The overcoat he was wearing was dark grayish blue, the color of the sea on a foggy day. On closer inspection he noticed the rest of his clothes, a copper red leather waistcoat, and matching trousers, large tan boots that matched his belt. “What farce are you playing?” He asked once he was on his feet. “Where are my clothes and why am I wearing this?”
“The only home you have here is in prison and at the gallows.” Turner did not loose his frown. “And you have always worn such an ensemble.”
“Mr. Turner, I am not in the mood for such games. You know very well that I am Commodore Norrington and Jack Sparrow is nothing more than a joke of a pirate.”
Whatever anger and annoyance Turner had felt seconds prior was washed away. The young blacksmith nearly doubled over from laughing.
“I wish I could see the humor.”
“You a commodore?” Turner managed to ask between laughs. “I can’t even picture you as a naval officer.”
James wasn’t sure if he should be annoyed with the boy or if he should be worried about his mental state. Then again he did wake up in the smith and he wasn’t wearing his own clothes.
“What is going on around here?” Norrington turned towards the swords and nearly stepped back when he saw his own reflection in one of the blades. He recognized his own features, but his reflection was still not his own. His hair was free and long enough to brush against his shoulders, not a single strand was tied back. His lower jaw was covered in a beard, not too long and it did appear to be well groomed. Norrington ran his had against his face, feeling the hairs that were all too real. He also touched his ear where a ring of gold was attached. The jewelry was also real.
He inspected his clothes more thoroughly. There were some noticeable notches in the overcoat, where it had been torn and or cut through and sewn. He had a pair of pistols in their holsters and inside the small bags attached to his belt was several shots and powder. There was also a familiar compass hanging from his belt and when he lifted the lid he saw that it still did not point north.
“I do have the appearance of a pirate,” James pulled back the sleeves of his coat and shirt and saw the pirate brand on his wrist, the same brand that belonged on Sparrow and not himself. There was something else and when he pulled the sleeve up higher he saw the tattoo of the letter N with beautiful flourishes. “This isn’t right.” He covered his arm back up. “I am not a pirate. I am Commodore James Norrington of the Royal Navy, and Jack Sparrow is the notorious pirate who was nearly hung the day prior until you have intervened, Mr. Turner.”
“What were you drinking last night?” Turner stared at him in confusion. “And how much of it did you drink and are you certain you didn’t hit your head too hard when you collapsed?”
“That is what happened,” Norrington nodded, not at what Turner had said exactly. “Gillette and Groves were taking me home. I told them to bring me to a sofa, but I didn’t make it to the sofa. I collapsed and hit my head and I am dreaming I am the notorious pirate, Captain James Norrington of the Black Pearl.” If he was the pirate and Sparrow was the commodore then he should have Sparrow’s ship. That had to be the only reason. There was no other explanation he could think of that would explain what was happening to him.
“Your ship is named the Dauntless Spirit.”
“My ship is a pirate ship?” It was bad enough he was dreaming he was a pirate, but to have his mind desecrate the Dauntless, unless it was whole different ship.
The creaky and grinding sound of the old door handles being turned brought both their attention to the entrance of the smith.
“Hide,” Turner said. “If Mr. Brown sees you then you are a dead man for certain.”
Norrington ran to the other nearest door he could find. It was a storage closet. Mr. Brown may be a drunkard, but he was able to knock out a pirate with a bottle once and he would be moved to tell the authorities there was a pirate in his smithy.
The second the closet was closed Norrington heard a knock from the direction of the main entrance. Why would Mr. Brown knock? Was he that drunk already?
“Will?” The soft voice on the other side of the door quickened Norrington’s heartbeat.
“Elizabeth,” Will greeted Norrington’s former fiancé. “What brings you here?”
“I just wanted to see you. Do I need a reason to see the man I love?”
Norrington winced at the words and held his breath when he was certain he heard the two of them kiss. A new and revolting thought entered his head. What if she were engaged to Sparrow. If Sparrow was the commodore in Norrington’s odd dream and neither she nor Will were different then it would make sense. No. He couldn’t possibly think that Elizabeth being engaged to Sparrow, commodore or not, had made sense. The very thought made him ill.
“You came alone?” Turner asked.
“Father insisted Estrella should accompany me,” Elizabeth’s voice sounded closer. She was inside the shop and walking around. “I may have accidentally lost her on the way.”
“Accidentally?” Turner asked in a tone of the same amusement James had felt. Both James and Will knew her too well. It may have seemed like an accident, but both men knew Elizabeth had did it on purpose.
“I may have wanted it to happen,” Elizabeth confessed. “Estrella is no fool. She will find me soon.”
“Then it may be best if you try to find her.”
Norrington rolled his eyes. Turner you are a fool. Elizabeth will know you are trying to hide me.
“Are you trying to get rid of me?” Elizabeth asked.
“No it’s not that.”
“What are you trying to hide?”
You might as well tell her,” James thought. She is going to find out soon enough.
“I’m not trying to hide anything.”
“Who are you trying to hide?”
James had to smile. She was a clever young woman. That was one of the many reasons why he was lead to her. It wasn’t just because she was beautiful. It was also because she was intelligent, brave and bold. There was no other woman in Port Royal who was quite like her.
“I’m not hiding anyone.”
“It is best to not lie to her, Mr. Turner.” Norrington said.
“I know that voice,” Elizabeth said in a surprised tone. “What is James Norrington doing back here?”
“I would like to know the answer to that question myself.” Turner said.
“I am having one of the oddest dreams,” Norrington replied. It was a dream that was either brought on by the wine or the possible concussion. A new thought had recently entered his head. Someone may have slipped something into his wine.
“You won’t be able to get a straight answer from him,” Turner said. “He acts like he doesn’t know why he returned to Port Royal or why he chose the blacksmith shop as a place to pass out and he even made a joke about being a commodore.”
“James Norrington,” Elizabeth addressed him in an accusing tone. “What has entered your head?”
“Elizabeth,” he nearly breathed her name.
“I’m sorry, Captain James Norrington.”
“I believe my mind has decided to create this absurd dream,” Norrington said. “But you would not believe that as a possibility since you are not the real Elizabeth but a fabrication as part of the dream.”
“You are not making any sense.”
“I knew you wouldn’t believe me.” James sighed and pondered what would have been a more believable answer. “Very well. I hit my head too hard and I have lost a few of my more recent memories.”
“That would explain everything,” Turner said. “James, you might have dreamed you were a commodore. The mere fact that a well known pirate, such as yourself would think he was in the Royal Navy had to born from a drunken dream.”
“We can discuss this later,” Elizabeth opened the door by a crack, giving James a small view of her beautiful eyes. “We have to find a way to get him back to his ship.”
“How do we even know the Spirit is around?”
“Because they wouldn’t leave with out their captain,” James said. It was his dream; he might as well as go along with it until he woke up. It would certainly be a mirthful subject when he spoke with his lieutenants the next morning.
“How do you propose we get him out to the docks without being noticed?” Turner asked. “Do we sneak him out?”
“Sneak him out,” Elizabeth said while her eyes seemed to have brightened. She had an idea. “Wait here.” She closed the door, trapping James in darkness. “The two of you. I will return shortly. Will. I need you to find a shaving blade.”
Norrington had waited until he was certain Elizabeth had left before he spoke again. “You wouldn’t know what she had planned?”
“She is quite clever and full of ideas,” Turner answered. “I cannot even guess at what she may come up with. She told me how she signaled The Crown Jewel.”
Norrington felt he stiffen, The Crown Jewel was most likely the Black Pearl disguised as a naval ship in this nightmare. “She created quite the fire.”
“She burned up your rum. I’m surprised you are no longer disappointed about it.”
“It’s only rum,” Norrington cringed. He could not imagine himself drinking the swill. Even when the rest of his naval officers were drinking their grog rations he had opted for brandy or wine. “It’s not as if you had destroyed your employer’s beer supply.”
“Beer supply?” Turner started to laugh again. “Mr. Brown drinking alcohol? The man has deemed it wicked.”
“He doesn’t drink?” Norrington could not believe what he had heard. Then again he was the pirate and Sparrow was the commodore. “Not even wine?”
“Never. He does partake in several cups of coffee a day, always has him on edge.”
“Where is Mr. Brown?” That was a good question. If Mr. Brown was sober and more alert then Norrington had more to fear from the man.
“He is at the pier waiting for the latest shipment of puddle iron to come in.”
Norrington blinked. It was often the Mr. Brown he knew would have sent Turner to oversee the shipment of raw materials. “Who makes all the swords then.”
“I do. He still makes horseshoes, gates, skillets and everything else We both do, but he lets me make the swords by myself. He prefers dealing with the customers personally. Try to stay silent. I will be back shortly.”
Norrington sat down, or tried to sit down. It was a bit hard to become quite comfortable in such a small space and he felt his knees brush up against the back of the door. He still didn’t have any idea how long it was going to take for Elizabeth or Turner to return. Did he want to speak further with the boy? Turner was trying to help him escape. The navy part of his mind did not like the fact that Turner was trying to assist another pirate, but it was drowned out by the reality, or the reality created by his dream, that he was the pirate in question.
“I brought what she asked,” Turner had said. “Plus a few other things.”
“Very good, Mr. Turner.”
What kind of pirate was he? How many ships did he board and how many innocent lives did he run through with his sword. What of his crew? He had heard from both Elizabeth and Turner Mr. Gibbs was a member of Sparrow’s crew, as well as a man with a parrot, a very short man and a woman with dark skin.
“Elizabeth has returned,” Will announce minutes later and Norrington heard the main door being opened.
The following conversation was difficult to overhear. The young couple spoke in low tones. It was Elizabeth’s plan, but why were they not speaking loud enough for Norrington to hear?”
“Are you serious?” Turner called out.
“It is the least suspicious,” Elizabeth said.
“They are going to notice,” Turner answered.
“Not after the grooming or if he holds this in front of his face.”
Norrington wished he could see what she had brought. Then again the closet door wasn’t locked.
“James,” Elizabeth opened the door for him. “I know you are going to object, but this is the only way.” She held out a beige colored dress in front of her.
“You bought a new dress?” He raised his eyebrows.
“Not for me. It’s for you, a disguise,” Elizabeth explained as she handed the gown to him. “I will do something with your hair and I have bought a headdress and there is a cloth sack for you to put your own things in.”
“You want me to wear a dress?” James asked in a sick tone.
“I told you he would object.” Turner had crossed his arms.
“It’s perfectly fine, Mr. Turner.” Norrington held up the gown. “I am certain I have worn more ridiculous disguises in the past.” He sighed. If he had asked how his dream was about to get any worse it had been answered for him.
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