Disclaimer: I don't own Peter Pan or all the other well-known characters of Neverland. They belong to Mr. J.M. Barry, or rather, the Great Ormond Street Hospital. I also don't own the Elvish language, for it was developed by the amazing Mr. J.R.R. Tolkien, as well as the description of the Elves, which I wholeheartedly endorse. The other magical creatures come from German and Celtic mythology, and they are used with my highest respect.

Author's note:

Dear readers, in advance I want to inform you that English isn't my native tongue. So please be patient with me if the one or other sentence / word isn't that brilliant. I've a good beta-reader, and hope that there aren't too much mistakes. She really does a good job, but you know, even when two persons are involved, some things can be still overseen.

I've already written this story two years ago in German, but now I wanted to share it with you all.

At last one question: Does someone speak a little bit Sindarin (Elvish) and can help me with it? I would need the help from chapter 7 to the end. So if someone takes mercy on me and helps me it would be niiiicccceeee!

And now: have fun and please, please review!

Yours

Lywhn

Prologue

"Old, alone, done for! Old, alone, done for!"

The chanting of the children clamored from the deck and thundered in his ears, awaking the worst memories he had, and mingled with his greatest fears. And those fears were now realized as the giant lizard leapt upward, mouth open, ready to swallow him whole. The mighty jaws clapped with a terrifying sound, missing his feet by inches. And he was losing height – weighed down by the loss of his one happy thought and the fairy-dust, losing the new and ecstatic feeling of flying.

He spoke the truth when told the girl he had no happy thoughts, now so necessary for keeping him in the air and, by extension, saving his life. He'd lost them all – so many years ago. And this simple lack of human warmth now sealed his doom. Before that accursed storm had taken the ship and thrust it at this mystical island of eternal youth, he had never believed in things such as fairies, mermaids and -- especially -- flying children. But here, they were real. And the secret of flying was not only the elusive fairy-dust these tiny creatures discharged, but also a cheerful heart.

But he had lost those feelings long ago! He considered his own heart as dark as the darkest night, without moon or stars. As a pirate, he was forced to become a cold, careless man, even if, in the beginning, it had been anything but easy. Moments ago, even though he'd been taught caution by his hard life, he had chosen that insane flight. It was the moment he gripped the fairy in his one hand, doused himself with the mystical dust, and suddenly found himself able to fly by imagining victory over his nemesis.

But the dream he so desperately wished for was now beyond his grasp as he found himself bereft of all hope of defeating the brat, the deadly beast beneath him which had hunted him for an eternity.

He looked up at the diamond stars scattered on the black velvet above him, mocking him with their merry indifference. All the clouds which had rolled in when the little Prince of Neverland had been in danger were gone by now, chased away. Chased how? By some incredible power as the boy received something so pure, so innocent as a kiss from the Wendy girl. That same girl now stood at the rail of his four-masted ship and chanted, along with the boys, the words that now forced him down toward the lizard.

His upward gaze found the reason for all his misery. The boy appeared no more than twelve or thirteen, but he knew that Pan was much older, possibly even older than himself. That damn little brat, who had cut off his favorite right hand and turned his life into a living hell, now stood on the highest yardarm of the mainmast and glared at him with atypical gravity; saluting him with the sword he held.

This same boy had lain at his feet moments before, robbed off all strength, indifferently facing certain death. And then, the girl had given him a real kiss – a "thimble" was what she called it – and it had released the power of Neverland. Knowing that he was loved had washed the weakness and fright from the boy, had turned the tables yet again, and now the youth had the upper hand, and he – Captain James Hook – was sentenced to die.

The chanting now overwhelmed him, shutting out any other thoughts, until he only desired the final solution which could possibly bring him peace. He folded his arms before his chest and heard it once again, knowing perfectly well that they were right. He WAS old – deep inside of him – alone for an eternity and, at last, really done for. For that dismal moment, his fighting spirit died and he yearned for one thing: to find forgetfulness and peace in death.

Without realizing it, he repeated their words. Closing his eyes he let himself fall – down, down and down … until the mighty jaws of the crocodile closed around him.

The foul smell that came out of the gullet of the animal was sickening, while he felt the croc's throat muscles around his legs start to swallow him. It is the way of crocodiles to swallow their prey whole and alive, and this one was no exception. In that moment, Hook's fury returned and drove out his mortal fear. No! This beast would not get him! He would never give in! Not he, who had escaped the king's Navy over and over again, not he who was feared even by Barbeque!

He pushed up his right arm and the deadly steal of his hook sliced the tongue of the lizard. An ear-deafening roar came out of the beast's throat – and Hook attacked again. Blood now covered him, but he didn't let it stop him. The metallic smell mingling with the stench of carrion and old fish threatened to knock him out, but it only stimulated him to eliminate this problem of the crocodile for once and all.

The mouth of the lizard opened and closed again, while it started to choke. Seawater splashed down on him and Hook knew that he would be lost if he were coughed out between the sharp teeth. Savagely, he kicked around him, and as his hard boots hit the lizard's gizzard and the skin-fold which every crocodile possesses to hold the water back during diving, the beast choked again.

The pirate-captain didn't think about where he was, what he was doing and what lay ahead of him, should he fail to kill this nightmare-monster with scales. The only thing in his mind that moment was to damage the creature as much as possible, to escape the slow and torturous death which would otherwise await him. He slashed every direction he could reach.

And then, suddenly, the giant jaws opened again and the crocodile spilled him out. He was deep underwater, and he could see above him the twinkle of the stars. The buccaneer had not much breath left, but he turned, ready to defend himself again, but below him, the crocodile sank toward the bottom, blood flowing from its mouth.

Hook could wait no longer, and with stern resoluteness, he swam to the surface, feeling the lack of oxygen as he catapulted himself upward. Finally, when he thought he couldn't bear the burn in his chest anymore, he broke through the surface and gasped the warm sweet air of Neverland into his lungs. It smelled better than all the perfume, soap and flowers of the world, because it meant life

Exhausted, he tread water and looked around for his ship. But what he finally saw caused him to gasp. The Jolly Roger, the proud galleon with its four masts and more than forty cannons, which he had called home for so long now, glistened in a golden light and was lifting out of the water. The sails, torn during the battle, were repaired as if a wizard's hand had brushed over them, and the dark red wood shimmered like polished mahogany as thousands of tiny, golden fairies took the mighty sailing ship through the air. Like a dark comet with a wide, golden tail the Jolly Roger took to the skies, where it vanished between the stars.

Hook's gaze stayed at the point where he'd last seen his ship, and he felt an enormous loss. He trusted no human being, he bound himself to none other, and he had forbidden himself to feel affection for anyone. But it was quite another thing with his ship. There's a reason a seaman calls his ship his 'bride'. And it didn't matter in this case that Hook, as a pirate, was an outlaw. He was, after all, a seaman in his heart, and belonged to that group of men whose curiosity and courage were the reasons that the world seemed to shrink – and who viewed their ship not as a tool or a simple vessel, but as a kind of partner.

A cold wind startled him, and he saw the first clouds returning. This was a certain sign that the boy had left the island. Neverland always fell into winter whenever its little prince went away. Cursing, Hook started to swim toward the shore, south of Pirates Cove where his ship – usually – anchored. He had to hurry before the water cooled dangerously. He hoped the mermaids had fled into their underwater-lodgings to escape the approaching winter. Those vicious creatures were not only a temptation for any seaman, but they were deadly as well. They might be graceful, beautiful, and sing like their Latin name described: sirens – but they took their fun in drowning careless swimmers. And Hook hadn't survived the crocodile just to be killed by women with fish-tails!

Finally, as he had passed the high cliffs of Pirates Cove, and spotted the first shadows of the palms on the beach, he no longer had to fight against the current. It rather swept him toward the shore. The saltwater carried his weight, but he'd swallowed a lot of it. He was beyond exhaustion, and only his pride and stubbornness prevented him from giving up. Suddenly, he heard men shouting, and as he looked about, he recognized a number of colourfully dressed figures running toward him. At the head was a compact, older man with a grey beard and spectacles, who splashed into the surf to his captain.

It was rare that James Hook allowed any emotion – besides anger – to show, but now a genuine if tired smile spread across his face, and he didn't care. The waves washed them almost gently toward shore, and he felt his feet hit the sandy bottom. He wanted to stand up, but his knees gave way, and he stumbled. His long curly mane hung into his face and eyes and he spit the water out as he tried to rise again. Then he felt two robust hands gripping his arms and he was lifted on his feet.

"Cap'n!" he heard the familiar slurring voice beside him and found himself pressed to the wide chest of his bo'sun, "thank God you're alive, Sir!"

Tiredly Hook straightened his shoulders and accepted the help of the Irishman who was – perhaps – the only confidante he'd ever allowed into his life.

"Smee, you old Irish hen, so Davy Jones' locker had to wait a little longer for you, too."

Smee chuckled. "Aye, Sir. I've told that little red-headed gnome that I'd do good deeds, and that I never wanted to become a pirate." He shook his head. "Children! So easy to fool!"

Slowly, Hook regained the strength to stand alone, and Smee loosened his grip around his captain's arm. Carefully Hook straightened his whole body and moved to place his clothes in order, only to see that the beautiful dark red overcoat, waistcoat and shirt were torn, as well as his breeches. Grimacing, he made several uneasy steps. At last, he saw his men surrounding him, beaming at him, and cleared his throat. "Any casualties?" he asked hoarsely, and heard that his losses weren't as high as he feared. Noodler and Fogarty he himself had killed (so they couldn't be counted as battle losses). Cecco, the giant negro, and Mullins, the ship's carpenter, had run each other through, but had been brought to safety by their comrades. Alf Mason, the first gunman Billy Jukes, and the ship's cook Cookson had several scratches. Albino had a broken nose from the girl, from when she had thrown back her head. But all the other men – almost sixty – were not so much injured. Hook knew it could have been much worse.

A battle against children! For those unfamiliar with Neverland and its habitants, it might sound strange to think of grown men fighting against children and, worst of all, LOSING time and time again. But you might not know that these children weren't ordinary children. Life on the island was a game for them, as well as their battles against the pirates. Besides that, they had no fear, and faced any danger with carelessness, curiosity and a strong compulsion to play, which more than compensated for their lack of strength, size, and inexperience, and had helped them, once again, to win a battle that even an entire crew of merchant seamen or sailors could never have managed to do.

And the reason? Their leader – a half-grown boy who refused to grow up, who could fly even without the mystical fairy-dust, who spoke the language of the mermaids and fairies, who could handle a sword like an old general, and whose joyful and careless mind was his greatest weapon. The very same boy Hook had sworn to kill – and who had seized his ship and had taken it away!

"Cap'n, hav'ye seen--" Mullins started and pointed toward the skies.

Hook nodded shortly. "Yes, Mr. Mullins, it was hard to miss!"

"What now, Sir?" Cookson asked quietly and a murmuring from the crew was heard. The ship was their home, and without it, they had no place to stay, and the island was dangerous. Not only because of wild animals, but the Indians as well who were not their friends – not after the captain had used the chief's daughter, Tiger-Lily, as bait against his nemesis.

Hook looked over the sea, lost in thought. "He will come back!" he murmured after a while.

Smee frowned. "Are you certain, Cap'n? It could be that he'll stay with the girl. We all saw what happened to him after she kissed him."

The pirate-captain lifted a brow and slowly shook his head. "No, he will come back. He will not stay in London and grow up. It is not in his nature."

The old Irishman chewed the inside of his cheek. "With all respect, Cap'n, but you've been wrong about him once – for you thought him incapable of feelings."

On any other occasion, Hook would never allow criticism – nor allow someone to point out his mistakes. But in this case, Smee's words inspired him. "You're right, Smee, but this time, I am considering one important thing: the girl's influence. Women always change things, and there's no real difference between a girl or a woman." Musing, he watched the shimmer of the stars beyond the gathering clouds, and in his mind, he heard Wendy's laughter and saw her shy smile and her big blue-grey eyes as, in his memory, she glanced at him with curiosity and hidden admiration. "That girl was special," he murmured. "She captured the heart of everyone who crossed her path – even me, for a moment. I couldn't resist her, so why not the boy as well?"

He took a deep breath, remembering those moments that she sat in his cabin at the dining-table, smiling at him with the innocence of a child and the awakening charm of a young woman. She really had touched him. But, honestly, what man wouldn't be affected upon learning that he was the centre of a young girl's stories? But then other memories intruded -- how she had tricked him -- and he clenched his left hand into a fist. She had used that charm and his good form to save her friend and to give the boy back his reason to live by awakening the mightiest power of the universe: love.

"Of course, his heart grew beyond its old borders after she showed her affection for him so clearly." He stepped back to the water's edge, until the first waves washed around his soggy black boots. "But even her charm and her beauty will not be able to hold him there," he continued. "Yes, the boy is more like me than I like to admit. He requires freedom, independence, like I do."

For the briefest moment, pain showed in his forget-me-not-blue eyes – the longing for a life he could have had and he had never able to realize. Arrogance and youthful ignorance had directed his steps another way, until it was too late for him to turn away. And then the miserable moment was over and the hard-hearted pirate returned. "He will come back, I am sure of it. And it will be his downfall."

He turned around toward Smee, who had followed him. "He doesn't know that I'm still alive and so he will not be ready for my appearance when he returns. And then I'll have him – sooner or later!" He tilted his head back, and looked up at the sky preparing to snow. "You have won this battle, boy, but not the war! The day will come when you're in my power again, and then nothing in the world will save you, Peter Pan! And after him will be you, little girl. No one has ever dared to interfere like you have. And I will NOT be beaten by a girl! I will not rest until I have brought you both to your knees! No one will escape my revenge!"

TBC…