http://heart0foak.livejournal.com/ ([identity profile] heart0foak.livejournal.com) wrote in [community profile] tampered2006-08-09 08:42 pm

Log, Incomplete

When; Shortly after this
Rating; God knows. PG-13?
Characters; Mister Norrington ([livejournal.com profile] heart0foak) and Captain Davy Jones ([livejournal.com profile] deadnordying
Summary; Like a doomed fool, Norrington goes out to the Flying Dutchman to attempt a parley with Davy Jones. Dreadfully sorry if there have been spoilers, but you've all had plenty of time to see it now. :P
Log;


Strolling across the sands, red naval coat slung nonchalantly over one shoulder, James Norrington seemed the very picture of arrogant self-assurance. In truth, he was almost crapping himself in fear. He'd agreed to meet the pirate other pirates were scared of, the bogeyman of the ocean deeps, and he had no idea what was going to happen. Fear was an ally, though, he knew that. It kept a man on his toes. A man without fear on the high seas was dead in a very short time. And death, well, death he'd stared in the eyes so many times they were practically on a first name basis..

He reached the docks that had materialised with the Going Merry and found the Black Swan's longboat tied up there. It was a difficult craft to handle alone, but he'd managed before. After a quick look around to check that no-one had followed him to try any additional heroics, he clambered over the side and took up position on the bench, before shipping the oars and untying the painter. As the boat floated out beyond the two vessels, he scanned the horizon. Up on the deck of the Swan, something glinted in the mysterious sunlight that shone inside a building. That made him smile.

However, there was one thing missing from this idyllic afternoon. The Dutchman. As the little jolly boat rocked gently on the tide, Norrington shaded his eyes and peered into the distance.

Then, he felt something began to rumble in his feet, and the vibrations continued up through his feet. The water around the boat began to rumble. Norrington dived into the bows, partially to make sure the boat had less of a chance of capsizing on him, and partially out of abject terror. Sadly, this meant he missed a hundred feet of rotting, dripping, barnacle-festooned wood emerging from the briny depths in a great shower of spray, like a great and terrible leviathan of old, and coming to rest a few yards away. Heavily drenched by the salty blast from the Flying Dutchman's appearance, Norrington sat up, choked briefly on the stench of old seaweed, then fished out the oars and paddled over to align himself with the port side of the monstrous vessel. He peered up from below at the mass of wooden spikes, the overly pointed prow, and the tattered and hanging sails, coated with the caught up flotsam of centuries. It was a huge battleship of a boat, a mighty command, probably relatively slow with the size of it, but with some astonishing firepower. He was impressed.

As the longboat bobbed by the vessel's keel, Norrington stood up carefully and swung his coat over his shoulder again. He put a hand to his mouth and face up above him towards the deck.

"Jones! Permission to come a.."

A rope ladder thumped unceremoniously into the boat next to him. He frowned at it, shrugged, and began to climb...


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