(no subject)
Well, I was looking back at some of my old stories, and saw a comment about an idea for a Pirates drabble that reinspired me. Then, while driving home I felt the urge to also update one of my first drabbles to match the new movie. Please note, both of these include spoilers for POTC:DMC
There had always been something a little different about Jack Sparrow. “A little fae,” girls used to call him. “You don’t know the half of it,” he would sometimes mutter to himself in later years.
He never quite knew the whys and wherefores, but the end result was quite apparent. From the naiads who taught him to swim to the sprites that showed him how the wind blows, Jack Sparrow had always seen things no one else saw.
That is how he had found Davey Jones all those years ago, asking questions of those who no one else knew were watching. And that is why Jones was so willing to take the deal. Thirteen years was such a short time to wait for the power he would control in the end.
As he faced the kraken, Jack saw the sprites offering to spirit him away, heard the Pearl begging him to save himself. But today the Sparrow would not fly, but turn and fight. As he squared his hat, the Sea whispered promises. Face the kraken now and the hunt would end, his oath be fulfilled, but it would not be the end.
There was always something a little different about Jack Sparrow. Today, he drew his sword and plunged into the monster’s maw, determined to see just how deep that difference went.
and
Jack stumbled, throwing his sword arm askew as he caught his footing on the soft, white sand of the beach. Wait, beach? He looked about in confusion at the white shore and the gentile waves that lapped the sand. He was still wearing his coat, his hat, his boots. His sword was in his ring bedecked hand and a twist of his head proved the beads still lay in his hair. But a moment ago he had been on the Pearl.
“The Pearl!” He swung around, looking out to see … and quickly located his lady dancing lightly in place in the cove. On reflex, he glanced beyond her gleaming spars where could see the breakers forming as the waves crossed the reef at the cove’s mouth, and the spot of deeper blue where the safe passage passed. But it was the Pearl who garnered the bulk of his attention. She was whole and strong, her sails luffing proudly in the wind. Which was impossible.
Jack turned back to the island, trying to make sense of how he could have been one moment leaping into the mouth of the kraken, his beloved Pearl falling to pieces about him, and the next here, on this island. A closer look at the palm trees before him offered a clue.
It took only a moment to shed his coat, sword, and boots, and but another to scamper up the nearest palm like a monkey. And nestled where the coconuts should be he found another brown object of a decidedly different origin, several of which he quickly loosed and dropped carefully into the soft sand below.
Once safely back on terra firma, Jack picked up one of the objects, wiggled the cork from the neck, and took a good sniff. The sniff was immediately followed by taking a slug from the bottle. Jack let out a contented sigh as the rich rum settled into his stomach. That did it. He knew exactly where he was.
“Now, where’s the ladies?”
Now when you're in dock and the long trip is through
There's pubs and there's clubs and there's lassies there too
And the girls are all pretty and the beer is all free
And there's bottles of rum growing on every tree.
-From the folk song Fiddlers Green
There had always been something a little different about Jack Sparrow. “A little fae,” girls used to call him. “You don’t know the half of it,” he would sometimes mutter to himself in later years.
He never quite knew the whys and wherefores, but the end result was quite apparent. From the naiads who taught him to swim to the sprites that showed him how the wind blows, Jack Sparrow had always seen things no one else saw.
That is how he had found Davey Jones all those years ago, asking questions of those who no one else knew were watching. And that is why Jones was so willing to take the deal. Thirteen years was such a short time to wait for the power he would control in the end.
As he faced the kraken, Jack saw the sprites offering to spirit him away, heard the Pearl begging him to save himself. But today the Sparrow would not fly, but turn and fight. As he squared his hat, the Sea whispered promises. Face the kraken now and the hunt would end, his oath be fulfilled, but it would not be the end.
There was always something a little different about Jack Sparrow. Today, he drew his sword and plunged into the monster’s maw, determined to see just how deep that difference went.
and
Jack stumbled, throwing his sword arm askew as he caught his footing on the soft, white sand of the beach. Wait, beach? He looked about in confusion at the white shore and the gentile waves that lapped the sand. He was still wearing his coat, his hat, his boots. His sword was in his ring bedecked hand and a twist of his head proved the beads still lay in his hair. But a moment ago he had been on the Pearl.
“The Pearl!” He swung around, looking out to see … and quickly located his lady dancing lightly in place in the cove. On reflex, he glanced beyond her gleaming spars where could see the breakers forming as the waves crossed the reef at the cove’s mouth, and the spot of deeper blue where the safe passage passed. But it was the Pearl who garnered the bulk of his attention. She was whole and strong, her sails luffing proudly in the wind. Which was impossible.
Jack turned back to the island, trying to make sense of how he could have been one moment leaping into the mouth of the kraken, his beloved Pearl falling to pieces about him, and the next here, on this island. A closer look at the palm trees before him offered a clue.
It took only a moment to shed his coat, sword, and boots, and but another to scamper up the nearest palm like a monkey. And nestled where the coconuts should be he found another brown object of a decidedly different origin, several of which he quickly loosed and dropped carefully into the soft sand below.
Once safely back on terra firma, Jack picked up one of the objects, wiggled the cork from the neck, and took a good sniff. The sniff was immediately followed by taking a slug from the bottle. Jack let out a contented sigh as the rich rum settled into his stomach. That did it. He knew exactly where he was.
“Now, where’s the ladies?”
Now when you're in dock and the long trip is through
There's pubs and there's clubs and there's lassies there too
And the girls are all pretty and the beer is all free
And there's bottles of rum growing on every tree.
-From the folk song Fiddlers Green