(Untitled)

[scourgeofpiracy]

It's not the first time he's found himself, in dreams, in a place that's lost to him in reality. That time was in the office that now belongs to Cutler Beckett, but in this dream...

...in this dream, he's aboard the Endeavour, whole and undamaged and there as she'll never be again.

Comments

[merrimanlyon]

The decks of the Endeavour, above and below, would once have been a bustle of activity. Now there is only silence...a vague and hazy sort of silence, the kind that only seems to be there because it is waiting to be filled.

The same sort of silence permeates the captain's well-appointed cabin -- until three brisk knocks on the cabin door break the dreamy, unnatural quiet.

[scourgeofpiracy]

Norrington turns, sharply and surprised, and stares at the door for a moment.

"Come!"

[merrimanlyon]

The door opens, slowly...onto nothing. No one is on the other side.

In the stillness that follows, there is a soft thump -- and then a deep, resonant voice.

'A Regiment for the Sea, by William Bourne of Gravesend.'

Commodore Lyon of the East India Company is standing on the far side of the cabin, near to the great windows where a small bookshelf holds a neat row of books bound in dark leather. He is mostly facing away from Norrington, his attention on the title page of the book that is open in his hands.

'Rather a useful tome, this,' he adds, seemingly addressing Norrington even though he does not look over at the other man. 'Quite possibly the first work on navigation written by an Englishman, back in Queen Elizabeth's day. Still worth reading, for a book written nearly two centuries ago.'

He closes the book, with the soft thump heard once before.

[scourgeofpiracy]

Norrington turns quickly, startled... and yet not entirely surprised.

"Commodore Lyon", he says with a bow. "Yes, many such old books still have useful information."

[merrimanlyon]

'It helps that the sea does not change greatly with the passing of time,' Merriman replies, gently running a hand down the book's worn leather cover. 'Winds and currents are still much as they were in Master Bourne's day, even if the ships and the men who sail them come and go like the tide.'

He slips the book onto the shelf, returning it to its place amongst its fellows. Only then does he turn round and return Norrington's bow.

'Well met, Mister Norrington.' His calm, unruffled gaze travels briefly round the cabin before returning to Norrington. 'This is not one of the Company's vessels, I gather.'

[scourgeofpiracy]

"No, she (wasn't) isn't", Norrington says, looking around the cabin in turn, wistfully. "This is a ship of the Royal Navy."

[merrimanlyon]

'I see.' Quietly, as he studies Norrington. 'One of yours, once?'

[scourgeofpiracy]

"The Endeavour." His voice is low, and he's not meeting the other man's eyes. "The finest ship in the fleet. Once."

[merrimanlyon]

'A beauty.' There's a touch of compassion in the words, a sentiment echoed in the way he brushes the fingertips of one hand along the spines of the books on the nearby shelf. 'They seldom build them so well, nowadays.'

A few steps move him closer to the stretch of windows at the very stern of the ship. The view through the glass is hazy, as if the Endeavour is shrouded in fog.

'Why am I here, Mister Norrington?'

[scourgeofpiracy]

"I... don't know", Norrington admits after a moment. "Perhaps the ship was empty."

[merrimanlyon]

'And you thought to make her less so?' A slight lifting of the shoulders, almost a shrug. 'Perhaps. I suppose it is true that of all those who might be aboard, I am one of the least likely to cause you grief by virtue of my very presence.'

He tilts his head back a little, as if in thought.

'I am not your enemy, sir. Quite the opposite, in fact. Though I cannot entirely say that I am your ally.'

[scourgeofpiracy]

"I have no true allies, sir", Norrington returns, voice sombre. "Not any more - save perhaps one. But I have enemies enough that one less is welcome."

[merrimanlyon]

The commodore's mouth twists wryly. 'Then you may consider me an...interested party, shall we say. It is a position I have held often enough in the past.'

He moves away from the fog-wrapped window, a pace or two nearer to the captain's desk. There are papers spread out across the desk, marked charts and navigational maps and scraps of parchment with calculations, rosters, accounts, everything necessary for a voyage. None of the markings are clear, though -- looking at any piece of paper for too long only makes the writing waver and blur.

'I believe that when last we spoke, quite some time ago, we were interrupted shortly after I had asked you a question. Do you recall the substance of that conversation?'

[scourgeofpiracy]

"How could I forget?" he asks, voice still low as he glances over at the desk. "Captain Sparrow was the interruption, as I remember."

[merrimanlyon]

'Indeed, he was.' Said dryly, though his expression does not change. 'He forestalled an answer then. And though you are under no real obligation to answer now, the question still stands.'

A beat of silence. Then two.

'Was it really the only game available?'

[scourgeofpiracy]

"No real obligation but my own", Norrington says quietly. "And the simple answer is... it was the one that presented itself."