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Old March 19th, 2008, 06:17 PM
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lol I am one of those who is very much inclined to agree.. espically when it comes to giving up gold and or rum for someone or something more important.. but as I am hearing from several pirates in my head right now.. " That's just Jack for ye"* applauds* I am loving this story more and more keep up the great work!
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Old March 20th, 2008, 09:47 AM
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KiwiGirl KiwiGirl is offline
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Loved...just loved Will calling the ships to him. And you had Calypso perfectly.

Not enjoying Paris being tortured but am respecting him more and more with each chapter.

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Old March 21st, 2008, 08:46 AM
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Telcontar Rulz Telcontar Rulz is offline
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Warning: Violence and implied rape in this chapter

Chance Encounter: Pirate Kingdom of Troy

Disclaimer: I don’t own Balian, Legolas, Will, Jack, Hector, Paris...you get the idea. I’m just borrowing them without permission but with every intention of returning them, savvy?

Chapter 20: For the Sake of Friends

Cassandra curled up in a dark corner of the tent, trying to make herself as small as possible. She was with the other female prisoners. It was stiflingly hot. The air smelled of stale sweat and smoke and fear. Somewhere, a girl was crying softly. The princess wondered where the rest of the survivors were, if there were still any that roamed free. Where were Andromache and Astyanax? Where were Helen, Hecuba and Polyxena?

And where was Balian?

She knew that Paris was a captive, thanks to her. She didn’t know what the Greeks had done with him but whatever it was, it would not be good. Poor Paris. He’d led a pampered existence ever since he had been born. How could he survive this? How could she survive this, for that matter?

Someone ducked inside the tent. “Find the Trojan princess,” barked a voice. “The king wants her.” A rough hand grabbed Cassandra and dragged her screaming and kicking all the way to Agamemnon’s tent. The king wrinkled his nose at her dishevelled state.

“She’s not half as fine as the other one,” he said, waving her away. “You can have her,” he told his bodyguards. They turned their predatory gazes to the girl. She prayed for the gods to strike her down. They ignored her.


The Greek fleet sailed for home. Paris was put with the other prisoners below deck. He was only half-lucid. The voices of his fellow prisoners were distant and he could make out very few words. He felt hot, as if someone had lit a fire in his flesh. Someone put stale lukewarm water to his lips. He gulped it down greedily. He was so hot, so thirsty. His back burned with the flames of Tartarus.

“He’s fevering up,” said one of the Trojans. “He won’t survive if he doesn’t get help.”

“We can’t do anything for ourselves, let alone for him.”

“He’s Prince Hector’s brother. We owe it to the prince to try.”

Agamemnon finally sent a physician down to tend to Paris. There was no point in capturing a prince only to have him die on the journey back home. The King of Mycenae was not one to let Hades take away such a prize.


Balian, Legolas, Barbossa, Will, Jack and Achilles were on the deck of the Flying Dutchman, sitting around an upturned crate which served as a table. The sails were filled with wind. Bootstrap Bill was at the helm of the Black Pearl while her captain talked with the others about the plan to rescue Paris and Cassandra. Mycenae was within sight, a city sprawling lazily across the landscape like a well fed lion.

“We can’t let Agamemnon know that there is a plan,” said Balian. “With our inferior numbers, force is not going to work. We must infiltrate the enemy ranks and then steal Paris and Cassandra out.”

“I am not a thief,” said Achilles.

“You’re going to have to be, for once,” said Legolas coldly. “This entire strategy will only work with your cooperation.”

”Will and I will pretend to be Myrmidon,” said Balian. “Legolas will pretend to be our prisoner.”

“After having captured a ‘god’, I think we deserve a reward,” said Will “so Balian will ask for Cassandra to be his slave while I will, uh, ask for Paris.”

“Considering you two look like twins, that’s just put revolting images into me head,” said Jack, making gagging noises.

“Remember, Jack, we’re pretending,” said Legolas.

“I know, I know, but it’s still revolting.”

“So why do we need Master Greenleaf to be a prisoner?” asked Barbossa. “Why not Jack?”

“First, I don’t think we can justify our requests if we caught the enemy jester—it’s not personal, Jack, so don’t scowl at me like that— and secondly, Legolas is a master of escape,” said Balian. “If we don’t get what we ask for, we can still work with him to free Paris and Cassandra. He can’t possibly pretend to be a Greek. It just won’t work. They’ll recognize him from a mile off.”

“So what do I do?” demanded Jack.

“You can stay on the Dutchman and look after the survivors,” said Legolas smoothly.

“And me?” said Barbossa.

“You’re the captain of the Black Pearl,” said Will. “You should know what to do.”

“Oi! The Pearl is my ship, savvy?” said Jack.

“Correction,” said Barbossa. “She was your ship. Now she’s mine.”

“Tut tut, Barbossa,” said Jack, wagging his finger. He took on a solemn tone which reminded everyone of Balian and then began to quote said blacksmith. “Speak the truth always even if it leads to your death.”

“Aye,” said Barbossa casually. “That’s exactly what I be doin’. The Pearl is my ship.”

“We can argue about this later,” said Balian. “For now, Barbossa is the Black Pearl's captain. We need all of you to be on your guard. If we should come out being chased, you will fire your...your...”

“Cannons,” supplied Will.

“Yes, cannons,” said Balian. “I knew they weren’t catapults.”

“One question,” said Achilles, looking at Legolas. “How can you free anyone without weapons? I assume you won’t have any weapons as you’re pretending to be a prisoner.”

“I won’t have any weapons that can be seen,” corrected Legolas. “What they can’t see doesn’t really matter, does it?”

“You’re all mad,” muttered the Greek warrior. “And I’m mad too because I’m actually going to help you carry out this suicidal plan.”

“That’s the spirit, mate,” said Jack. He turned to Will. “Now, William, let’s bring out the rum and seal this pact in alcohol.”


Balian felt awkward and exposed in a suit of Greek armour. To him, it was not so different from being naked. Will had somehow found some war paint on his ship and Andromache had used it expertly to hide their looks. When the blacksmith had looked into a surprisingly clear mirror, he had not recognized the face that had stared back at him.

“Remember,” said Achilles to Balian. “Your name is Palinurus, and Will is Misenus. You both captured Legolas.”

“Listen,” said Will. “We came up with this plan so I’m pretty sure we remember what to do.”

“It’ll be fine,” said Balian. “I have faith in all of us.”

“I pray that your faith is not misplaced,” said Barbossa.


Agamemnon was unpleasantly surprised when his servant announced that Achilles and his men requested an audience with him. “I’d hoped that he would die in Troy,” muttered the High King of Mycenae. “Very well, send them in.”

Greece’s greatest warrior strode in, calm and in control. “Congratulations,” he said. “I heard you caught the other prince...what’s his name again?”

“His name is Paris, and he is...was the Crown Prince of Troy,” growled Agamemnon. Who was Achilles to belittle his victory?

Achilles raised an eyebrow haughtily. “Impressive,” he said, sounding as if he meant the opposite. “I’ve heard that the boy can hardly hold a sword. No doubt the histories will remember you for your valiant achievement.”

“Unlike you, Achilles, I actually managed to take a royal prisoner.”

“Well, you caught Paris,” said Achilles “but I caught something else.” Two Myrmidon warriors came in, dragging a fighting prisoner. “My men caught a god.”

The divine being lifted his angry blue eyes and glared at his captors.

“My my, Achilles,” said Agamemnon, getting off his throne dazedly. “This is indeed quite a catch. Your men have proven themselves superior to even the divine powers.” He turned to the golden being. “Which god are you, that you would be caught by mere mortals?”

“I will not have my name sullied by your lips,” spat the prisoner.

“It will do something for your prestige if you parade a chained god through the streets of Mycenae,” said Achilles.

“Why, are you giving him to me?” asked Agamemnon suspiciously. “What do you want from me, Achilles?”

“Nothing, really,” said the warrior with a casual shrug. “I have no use for a vanquished god, but my men, they deserve to be rewarded for their work.”

The High King turned to the warrior on Achilles’ right. “What do you want?” he asked. The man looked like a seasoned fighter, if the scar running down the side of his face was any proof. He seemed somewhat familiar, but Agamemnon could not remember where he had seen the man before.

“The Trojan princess,” the man replied curtly without so much as blinking.

“You can have her,” said Agamemnon “but I warn you, you might have to fight for her. My men don’t like having to give up their prizes.”

Balian paled as he heard what had happened to Cassandra, in the crudest terms possible. “Where is she?” he demanded.

“Last I heard, the cavalry under Nestor had her,” said Agamemnon cruelly.

The blacksmith nodded, fighting to keep himself from strangling the fat insolent king. He knew he could not leave unless Achilles left too.

“And you,” Agamemnon continued, fixing his attention on Will. “I suppose you want a woman too?”

“Actually, I beg to differ,” said the young pirate steadily, although he was feeling more than uncomfortable. “I want the prince of Troy.”

“Out of the question,” said Agamemnon. “That is something I am most unwilling to relinquish. You may take any other slave but Paris is my prisoner, as is this one.” He seized Legolas by the hair and both of the elf’s friends struggled to refrain from running the High King through with their swords. “Take him and put him with his precious Trojan prince. Let’s see how this god is going to save his worshipper when he can’t even save himself.”


Paris’ heart almost stopped when he saw the Greeks shoving a new prisoner into the sand. Legolas? How could he possibly be caught? The Greeks tied up the elf next to the prince. The golden being’s hair was tangled and a bruise was blooming on his cheek, but otherwise, he was unharmed.

“What are you doing here?” whispered Paris.

“Rescuing you,” replied Legolas. Paris looked sceptical. “Look, this is a trick. Balian and Will are here too, only they’re dressed as Greeks and are unrecognizable.”

“Couldn’t you have dressed up as a Greek as well?”

“I don’t look it.”

“This is madness.”

“I know. It’s Balian’s plan, and he’d had a couple of drinks before he thought it up. Anyway, he’s gone to get your sister. Will tried to get you but it didn’t work, so I’m the one who has to help you escape.”

“Great. It might help if your hands weren’t bound.”

“Such a trivial obstacle is not going to stop me.”

“Say that when we’re free.”

“Watch and learn, Paris son of Priam.”


Balian heard the raucous laughter of the men from far off. He prayed he wasn’t too late, and broke into a sprint, pushing through the drunken Greeks. He found Cassandra trying to fight off six men who where pawing at her naked body. “Take your hands off her you sons of *****es,” he snarled. “She’s mine.”

“Says who?” sneered one particularly intoxicated soldier. Immediately, Balian drew his sword and pressed it up against the man’s throat.

“Says King Agamemnon, the gods, my sword and me,” hissed Balian. “And you don’t want to make me angry.” Too drunk to fight, the men backed off, intimidated by his manner and his armour, which marked him out as a Myrmidon. None could afford to insult Achilles or his men.

When he was certain that the Greeks were not trying to challenge him, he scooped Cassandra up into his arms, all the while averting his gaze from her nakedness as he tried to cover her with his cloak. She struggled weakly against him as he carried her away to where the Myrmidon were making camp. “Shh,” he said to calm her down. “It’s all right. You’re safe with me. I won’t let anyone hurt you. I promised Hector.” She stopped her pathetic struggles.

“I know your voice,” she breathed. “Balian...finally...you’ve come. I’ve been waiting for so long for someone to save me, although I never thought it would be you. I thought you would’ve left.”

“I wouldn’t leave anyone behind, much less you and Paris. Now hush and get some rest. My name is Palinurus for the moment. We have to keep up the act.”

Will had finished erecting two tents; one for himself and Balian, and the other exclusively for Cassandra. When he saw his friend with the bundle in his arms, he strode quickly towards them. His feet sank into the sand and it was difficult to move smoothly but no one could mistake his urgency. “Thank the Lord you were successful,” he said. “How is she?”

“She’ll live, I think,” said Balian. The princess had fallen asleep in his arms. “She’s a tough thing, like her brothers.” As soon as he set her down on the bed of furs inside her tent, she woke and scrabbled about frantically, clutching his hand and refusing to let him go.

“Please don’t leave me,” she whispered desperately. “I don’t want to have to go back to them.”

“I’ll...I’ll just be outside, Cassandra,” said Balian awkwardly. “I won’t let anyone hurt you, I swear. If you need me, just call and I’ll be there.”

“Can’t you just stay with me for a while? I’m frightened...terrible dreams...”

The blacksmith nodded and sat down in the sand beside her bed. His wife had suffered a similar fate when she had been a girl. She had never forgotten it.

It took a while, but Cassandra finally fell asleep, and Balian was able to extract his hand gingerly from her grasp. She made a muffled whimper but thankfully did not wake, so he managed to slip outside unnoticed. Will was there, waiting for him.

“It’s barbaric, what they’ve done to both her and Paris,” the pirate spat. He told Balian about the fruits of his investigations. “I saw Paris with my own eyes and to be honest, I could hardly recognize him. If Legolas hadn’t been with him, I would not have noticed him.”

“How are they?” asked Balian.

“Paris is...battered, to say the least. Legolas is all right, if a bit bruised and short tempered.” Will looked around to see that no one was listening, then he dragged Balian further from Cassandra’s tent to make sure that she would not be able to hear them. “Have you noticed anything about the princess?”

“What do you mean?” asked Balian. Will rolled his eyes.

“I can’t believe you managed to seduce the Princess of Jerusalem,” he said. “For a Frenchman of your age, you are so naive and innocent; it’s not natural. I’m no expert but even I can see it. Cassandra is in love with you.”

Balian’s jaw dropped. “Oh God,” he breathed. “That’s...that’s...”

“Exactly,” said Will. “Your daring rescue can only have enforced that love.”

“But...but...I...I never...never gave any indication!”

“Sometimes, it’s just not needed.”

“So...so what do I do?”

“I don’t think I’m the right person to ask, Balian. Paris would give you much better advice. Yet another incentive to rescue our dear prince.”


Agamemnon burped in contentment and threw away the last bone of his meal. “In four days, we march into Mycenae,” he said to Nestor as he brought his wine cup up to his lips. “Make sure that the victory parade is organized by then. I will suffer no mistakes.”

“As your majesty wishes,” said Nestor. Agamemnon’s parades were simple but pompous things. The two most impressive prisoners would be at the front of course, weighted down by chains and herded like livestock. The King himself would be in a chariot drawn by four black horses, and then what happened behind the chariot was of no importance.


That night, Will sneaked down to where the slaves were being kept. “Psst!” he said softly. Legolas’ keen ears caught the sound and his eyes swivelled in Will’s direction to show that he was listening.

“Balian’s got Cassandra,” said Will. “The new moon is in three days. That’s when we act. Be ready for it.”

Legolas gave him a look which said ‘I’m always ready; just waiting for you.’

“I know, I know,” said Will. He nodded at the sleeping Paris. “Take care of him.” He was rewarded with yet another look, one which he did not care to interpret. The pirate wondered how Legolas could still deliver such sarcastic barbs whilst being silent.


A/N: The rescue next! More fun stuff.

Jack Sparrow is one of the hardest people to predict, I think, Casakit. That's part of his appeal. I love picturing what he might do in a certain situation.

Kiwi, I'm glad you liked that bit with Will. I was getting giggles imagining how everyone would react to such a scene. People were probably looking at me as if I was mad. Paris will get out of trouble soon enough, now that his friends are here.
Telcontar Rulz
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Old March 21st, 2008, 09:07 AM
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KiwiGirl KiwiGirl is offline
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I am very glad that you rescued Cassandra....

I enjoyed the dialogue with Jack, the court jester bit was rather funny and could imagine his annoyance at that.

On to the rescue then

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Old March 24th, 2008, 11:58 PM
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Telcontar Rulz Telcontar Rulz is offline
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Join Date: Jul 2007
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Chance Encounter: Pirate Kingdom of Troy

Disclaimer: I don’t own Balian, Legolas, Will, Jack, Paris, Hector...you get the idea. I’m just borrowing them without permission but with every intention of returning them, savvy?

Chapter 21: Revenge is Sweet

The Greek sentry stared lazily up at the sky, half-dreaming. Tomorrow, they would march through Mycenae, laden with spoils from Troy. Already, he could hear the cheers of the people. The new moon gave no light, not that there was anything to be seen. The war was over. They were home. There would be no more surprise attacks by the likes of Hector. Even that god, a lord of War if there had ever been one, had been captured. For the first time in many months, the Greek felt he could be lax in his duty.


Achilles liked this part of the plan. He especially liked the part that he and his Myrmidon were to play. They were going to create a diversion by setting Agamemnon’s camp on fire. Revenge tasted sweeter than he had ever imagined it to be.

“Remember, once the fire, is lit, run,” said Balian, worried that Achilles would stay behind to gloat. He and Cassandra would be waiting here while Will went to fetch Legolas and Paris. As soon as the fires were lit, everyone would make for the coast, where the ships were waiting for them.

“Yes, yes,” said Achilles impatiently. “You’ve said that eleven times in the past three days. I counted.”

“You don’t seem the type who is inclined to take orders,” snapped Balian.

“I take orders when there is a need to do so, Balian of Troy.”

“It’s ‘Balian of Ibelin’,” said Balian. “Just because I fight for Troy doesn’t mean I’m Trojan.”

Achilles looked rather amused. Finally he had made this stoic man lose control of his temper. He knew it was unfair of him. The man was probably very nervous about this plan which he had devised. If they failed, he would be responsible for the terrible deaths which would ensue, including his own. It took a strong man to bear such stress.

The Greek warrior signalled to his men. His excitement was infectious. They were all eager to burn down Agamemnon’s tent. It would be the most daring thing the Myrmidon had ever done, and that was saying a lot.

Inconspicuously, as Balian had told them to be over and over again, the Myrmidon infiltrated Agamemnon’s camp. No one interfered with them. They were Greeks after all and no one was going to put his nose into Achilles’ business. As the night deepened, the Myrmidon gathered behind the area where hay, grain and other supplies were stored. It was autumn, and dry. Everything caught fire easily enough. They poured oil, alcohol and other combustible liquids which they had carried in gourds strapped to their belts, onto the supplies. Achilles threw down the torch. The supplies burst into flames quicker than he could curse Agamemnon. There was the sound of an explosion as dry flour ignited. The Myrmidon quickly leapt out of the way. Achilles could not help but gloat a little over this victory, even though it was entirely dishonourable and hand little renown in it.

“To the coast,” he said to his men.


Balian, alone in the Myrmidon camp, waited for the fire to start and fretted about whether he would be able to see it or not. When in did start, he felt foolish for ever having worried at all. It was impossible not to see the monstrous inferno which raged in Agamemnon’s camp. Nor was anyone able to ignore the chaos which ensued. The wind was strong, helping to spread the fire from tent to tent until they were all engulfed in a firestorm. Men and horses alike were screaming.

“Cassandra, it’s time,” said Balian, peeking through the tent flaps. She was ready, wearing a dress which Balian had managed to find and ‘borrow’, as Jack would say, from amongst the loot. It rightfully belonged to a Trojan woman anyway so Balian, despite being a man of honour, felt no guilt about taking it.

“Do you think they’re all right, Paris and the others?” she said, coming out of the tent. Balian put a hand on her shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze. Even in these dire circumstances, his touch still sent sparks shooting down her spine.

“It’s Legolas, Paris and Will that we’re talking about,” said Balian, although inside he did not feel half as confident. “Three brilliant minds, two great warriors; of course they’ll be fine. I have faith in them. Let’s go.”


Will stayed low until deep into the night. When the signal came, it took him by surprise. ‘And Achilles didn’t even have gunpowder,’ he thought, and then he remembered. They had given him the Dutchman’s entire stash of rum, much to Jack and the crew’s chagrin. ‘Oh well, he can always grovel at Barbossa’s feet for some from the Pearl.’ Dodging running men, he made his way to where the slaves were being kept. Acrid smoke filled the night.


Orange flared in the sky, lighting up the clouds with a sickly warm glow. Legolas could not help but grin. Their friends had come for them. He shook Paris awake and then reached down with his bound hands into his boot. His back protested at having to bend into such an abnormal position but he ignored it. His fingers rasped the smooth bone handle of one of his small knives. The hilt was warm from his body. He extracted the small blade, thinking the Valar that the Greeks had been too stupid to search him. The elf began sawing at the ropes which bound Paris’ hands. In the panicked chaos, their guards did not notice that something else was amiss, until the other captives raised a shout and begged to be freed also.

“There’s an escape!” cried the Greeks, rushing forward with swords drawn to confront the two runaways. Legolas only had his many small knives, and Will’s pistol. He threw two of his knives at the guards, felling two of them. The others stopped for a while to regard their dead comrades, but not long enough for Legolas and Paris to run. The elf needed his other knives. He pulled out the pistol and fired. The loud gunshot made the Greeks leap back as one more of their number fell. Before the others could react, the captain made a gurgling noise as the tip of a long slender iron blade covered in a net of dark blood emerged from his chest.

Legolas leapt into action. The two small blades in his hands were a deadly blur of silver. He pressed the handle of one into Paris’ hand just as Will threw him a familiar looking long knife. He caught his old companion by the hilt. “Took you long enough!” he called to Will as he slashed at a soldier’s throat.

“Things didn’t go quite according to plan!” replied Will. “Someone saw me for what I was. Had to fight off a lot of them by myself.” Once they had finished with the guards, they freed the other prisoners, at Paris’ insistence.

“Now move!” shouted Legolas. “To the coast! To the...” He didn’t get to finish his sentence. A Greek arrow sprouted from his shoulder, just missing his heart by inches. He took a sharp intake of breath as the pain hit him. .

“Legolas!” shouted Will, immediately firing at the man who had shot the elf.

“Lead them on, Will,” gasped Legolas. “I’m fine.”

“To hell you are,” scoffed the young pirate, half carrying him. “I’m not leaving you behind.” But Legolas’ crippling wound was only the first of their misfortunes. Greeks now surrounded them with a ring of inward pointing spearheads. The ring tightened, like a noose around a condemned man’s neck. The Trojans shrank back against each other. Both Legolas and Will simultaneously reached for their pistols, all the while remaining in fighting stance, although the elf’s wounded arm was rendered useless. Will glanced at his friends worriedly. They all knew that they could not win; they only had a limited number of shots in their pistols. Still, they were determined to make victory difficult and long in coming for their enemies. “Let them not say in the years to come that the Trojan spirit broke in the face of adversity,” said Paris softly.


It occurred to Achilles that Balian and the others did not trust him fully. That was why his part in this plan was so passive; they were afraid that he would betray them. ‘Sometimes men are too suspicious for their own good,’ he thought. He would prove to them that he was not Agamemnon’s mercenary. “Eudoras, go down to the coast and tell Balian that we’ve gone to help the others,” he said. With that, he ran, sword in hand, to prove that he was not on the Trojans’ side just because he happened to be there.


The Myrmidon joined Balian and Cassandra on the beach. The Trojan princess looked alarmed by the presence of the Greek at first and then that expression became one of confusion. She was, however, too breathless to say anything. Eudoras opened his mouth to relay Achilles’ message but there was a strange expression on Balian’s face, as if he was speaking to the gods. His eyes were unfocused.

“What’s wrong?” demanded Eudoras. This man unnerved him.

“Something’s happened,” said Balian. He turned to run back towards the Greek camp. “I’m going back to help the others.” The Myrmidon warrior made to stop him.

“Achilles and the other men have gone to help,” said Eudoras. “They’ll be fine.”

Balian shook his head and pushed past Eudoras. “Look after the princess, and take her to the ships!” he called without looking back. Cassandra sent a swift prayer up to any god who might happen to be listening, asking them to protect the man she loved.


Balian charged into the melee, his sword hacking, splitting skulls as if they were melons. He found Legolas, Will, Paris and the others soon enough, engaged in a battle for their lives. The elf was wounded. His movements, although still lethal, was not as graceful. The blacksmith, who was not a graceful fighter to begin with, charged with the finesse and force of a rampaging angel to his friend’s side, his sword cleaving in every direction. In the midst of the fighting, Legolas managed a grin. “I thought you were supposed to adhere to the Pirates’ Code,” he said.

“I’m a knight,” retorted Balian. “That puts me out of their jurisdiction.” With the unexpected reinforcements, the Trojans and their comrades were able to batter their way out. Once at the shore, Will took the wounded Legolas by the arm and they both vanished, only to materialize on the deck of the Flying Dutchman. The rest of them rowed, shielded by cannon fire — something which Agamemnon’s troops mistook for the wrath of Zeus. Screaming prayers in fear, they backed away and ended the pursuit.

The Trojans, the Myrmidon and the others were hauled onto the deck by the pirates. “Got into a spot of trouble, I see,” said Jack.

“Troubles which arose, ensued, were overcome,” said Will. Legolas looked pale. His shirt and tunic were soaked in blood.

“That is not the ‘ichor which flows in the veins of a god,” said Eudoras.

“I never claimed to be a god,” said Legolas through gritted teeth “apart from that one time.” Will lowered him to the deck.

“Is it deep?” he asked.

“I think I’ll live,” said the elf.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” said Balian. “You look terrible.”

“Bloody awful,” supplied Jack “’scuse the pun.” He glared at Will. “Now, tell me, why is the rum always gone?”

“It was for a good cause, Jack,” said Will, who was not in the mood to engage in another petty argument; the type which Jack always won. He went below deck to find something which could act as antiseptic and also to look for linen bandages.

Balian scrutinized the wound. He had no knowledge of healing skills. He was always the one receiving treatment, not delivering it.

“Anything I can do to help, lad?” asked Bootstrap Bill kindly.

“Do you know how to remove arrows?” asked Balian.

“Dunno about arrows, lad, but bullets, I’ve done a couple of those.”

“See if you can pull it out slowly so that the arrowhead doesn’t break off,” hissed Legolas. Balian swallowed. He was not squeamish usually, but he was afraid that if he made a mistake, he would worsen his friend’s situation.

“Maybe I should do this,” Bootstrap said to Balian, seeing the younger man grow tense and nervous. “You hold your friend still.”

Legolas jerked as Bootstrap extracted the arrow, with the bloody arrowhead still attached to the shaft. “That went better than it usually does,” he said hoarsely. Sweat gleamed on his brow.

Will came back up with a bottle of absinthe and linen bandages in his arms. “Can someone go down to remind Paris and Helen that the captain’s quarters belong to me, and they should leave it the way they found it after they’re done with...whatever they’re doing?”

“Why didn’t you tell them?” asked Jack. Will turned red.

“Oh, I get it now,” said Jack. “I guess someone’s not a eunuch then.”

“Captain Barbossa!” called Legolas. “Can you please shoot Jack for me?”

“My pleasure, Master Greenleaf,” said Barbossa. He reached for his gun, and then remembered that Jack had it.

“Sparra!” he shouted. “Where be me gun?”

“Dunno,” called Jack innocently. “Gave it to the Whelp.”

“Will!” said Legolas. “Shoot Jack!”

“I can’t. My hands are full,’ said Will. He soaked a clean rag in absinthe and began to bathe Legolas’ wound. The elf hissed.

“What is that?” he demanded. “It smells foul.”

“Absinthe,” said Will. “Strong stuff.” He offered Legolas the bottle. “Don’t let it hit your tongue. It might just knock you off your feet.”

“I’m already off my feet.” Legolas took a sip, and then blinked several times.

“You mean you drink this?” said Balian curiously, reaching for the bottle. Legolas held it out of his grasp.

“Uh, Balian, I’ve seen how you react to ale,” said the elf. “I don’t think I should let you try this.”

“Come on, Legolas. I’m a grown man.”

“You’re a mere babe by my standards.”

“You tried it. You have no right to say I can’t try it.”

“My dear Balian, Baby Balian, trust your elders when they tell you not to do something. It’s for your own good.”

Balian pressed his lips together in a tight line so that the skin around his mouth was white under the beard. He clenched his fists. Legolas was nonplussed; he knew that in this state, Balian would never try to tackle him. He was right. The blacksmith stormed down below deck.

Legolas handed the bottle of absinthe back to Will. “How did you manage to keep that from Jack?” he asked.

“It’s the captain’s private stash,” said Will, corking the bottle. “I have the only key to the cupboard.”

“You men are confusing. Why would you want to poison yourselves with this?”

“It takes my mind off the lack of a heart in my chest, Legolas. I didn’t think I would miss my heartbeat so much, but I do.”

Cassandra had watched this whole exchange. Her nervousness was fading, now that the old man, Bootstrap, was steering the ship away from Mycenae. Shyly, she approached Balian’s friends. “What is it?” she asked, indicating the bottle. “Why won’t you let Balian taste it?”

“My lady,” began Legolas with a benevolent smile and a mischievous glint in his eye. “Let me tell you something about our beloved friend. He is the worst drinker in all of history. Last time we had a competition, he was the first to become intoxicated, and he’d only had eighteen mugs of not very strong drink. This...absinthe would really knock him off his feet before I could shoot an arrow.”

Achilles snatched the bottle from Will. “Well, since even Balian is not allowed to drink it, I deem it worthy of a man,” he said, taking a large swig. Before he even swallowed it, his face went red and his eyes seemed to bulge. He spat out the mouthful and then glared at Eudoras who was trying to suppress his laughter. “I think I’ll stick to wine,” he gasped, wiping his mouth.

Will was able to retake his bottle of absinthe and stow it away safely, even though Jack was begging him for just one sip. “Beg Barbossa for rum,” he told the pirate. Jack gave Will a doleful look.

“You really do owe me a lot of rum, William Turner,” he said.

Cassandra smiled to herself. So her perfect man did have some flaws after all. She sighed. Somehow, his being less than perfect made her love him more. The gods really had sent Balian, but not for Troy. They had sent him to her.


Jack definitely was annoyed at being compared to the court jester, Kiwi, but he had no choice really Agamemnon would definitely recognize him as the man who called Menelaus a eunuch.
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Old March 27th, 2008, 09:06 AM
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KiwiGirl KiwiGirl is offline
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Great rescue and I loved how everyone worked together, the dialogue was fantastic. You have woven a story that just flows, even though the characters are so diverse it is engaging and just draws you in.

You really have a talent for dialogue there...well done

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Old March 27th, 2008, 10:06 AM
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Telcontar Rulz Telcontar Rulz is offline
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Chance Encounter: Pirate Kingdom of Troy

Disclaimer: I don’t own Balian, Legolas, Will, Jack, Paris, Hector...you get the idea. I’m just borrowing them without permission but with every intention of returning them, savvy?

Chapter 22: Reunions

“Right,” said Will as they sat down to discuss what they were going to do. “Where to next? We have two boatfuls of refugees with no home and I can’t possibly take them with me to World’s End. They belong in this world.”

“Epirus,” said Achilles suddenly. Everyone looked at him in surprise. They had not expected him to contribute anything. “That’s my country. I am king there. They will be safe, and they can make new homes.”

“I thought Agamemnon was the king,” said Balian in surprise.

“He’s just one king amongst the many in Greece,” said Achilles darkly. “It just happens so that he has the biggest army, that’s all and politically, I can’t win over him, so I must be his ally.”

“The scruples of politics,” said Legolas knowingly.

“I hate it,” said Achilles. “This title of king has always governed me.”

“Duty governs all of us,” said Will quietly, putting a hand over where his heart was meant to be. “Sometimes we don’t have a choice.”

Jack made a face. The very word ‘duty’ made him feel ill. Paris simply glowered at Achilles. Reconciliation was long in coming for those two.

The destination was decided upon. The rest of them decided that they could work on relations between Achilles and Paris later, and they sailed to Epirus. Although they still hadn’t forgiven the man for killing Hector, they were grateful for his help during the attempt to rescue Paris. If it hadn’t been for Achilles, there would’ve been heavy casualties.

Achilles country didn’t even look much like a town, much less a nation. The houses were few and sparse. Plants grew wild. The ruins of a temple overlooked the coast. The Trojan refugees whispered excitedly to each other. They could see opportunities in this untamed land. Achilles turned to Eudoras, who was barely suppressing his delight at being home again.

“No man could have had a better friend,” said the proud warrior. It was high praise, coming from his lips.

“It has been my life’s honour to serve you, my lord,” said Eudoras.

“Take up my seat in the great hall,” said Achilles suddenly. “The people know you and love you.”

“What about you, my lord? You are the king.”

“I was the king,” said Achilles “no longer.” He glanced over at Briseis, who was talking animatedly to Cassandra. “I don’t want to be king anymore, and I was never a very good king.” He grinned. The expression was alien on Achilles’ face.

And so it was decided. Eudoras returned home as the new king of Epirus and Achilles sailed away with the woman he loved.


Balian could feel Cassandra’s eyes following him as he hoisted the sails. It made him uncomfortable and he resolved to ask Paris for advice as soon as possible. He finished tying the knot and then went to find Paris, who was at the helm talking with Will.

“Paris,” said Balian, feeling self conscious. “I need to talk to you. I need some advice”

Paris seemed surprised. It wasn’t everyday that someone asked him for advice, and he’d never thought that the someone would be Balian.

“I’ll be happy to help in any way I can,” said Paris.

“It’s about your sister and...the way she...feels about me,” began Balian awkwardly. “I know she’s your sister, and I do love her, just not the way she wants...” He realized how bad it all sounded and rubbed a hand over his face. “Oh dear God...” he muttered.

“I realized,” said Paris. “And...really, there is nothing you can do except talk to her about how you feel. I can talk to her if you want, but I don’t think she’ll believe me until it comes from your mouth.”

Balian further muttered something incomprehensible. He sounded mortified. Will thought that his friend must be cursing in one of the other languages which he alone on this ship knew. The pirate pitied him. Being the brave defender of so many cities really didn’t help when it came to delicate matters such as this. And Balian was not a very prolific speaker to begin with.

“We’ll all be giving you moral support,” said Will encouragingly.

“Right now I need to muster my courage,” groaned Balian. Legolas, who had heard everything from the crow’s nest, jumped down and landed like a cat on his feet next to his friend.

“She’s a young woman,” said the elf. “After fighting orcs, trolls and balrogs, talking to a young woman can’t be that frightening.”

“Gandalf fought the balrog,” said Balian, as if that explained the terror that was showing on his face. “I think I’d prefer a troop of trolls to this.”

“So would I,” said Will.


The fires of Hell surrounded him, burning, burning. Sweat ran down his face in rivulets. His mouth was dry with fear. Tortured souls reached out to him from the flames, snagging his clothes and hair with their charred fingers. He knew he had to stay on the path. From the fires, a figure emerged, still recognizable despite the terrible injuries inflicted on her. His heart almost stopped. “Jocelyn!” he cried, running off the path towards his wife. She turned to look at him. Just before he could reach her and take her into his arms, everything faded into empty blackness. The flames of Hell disappeared, and his wife along with them. HE was left alone in the dark. A disembodied voice sounded around him. He recognized it as being that of Michael, the Archangel.

“You may go there now,” said the angel’s voice. “You have proven yourself worthy of saving your wife’s soul from eternal damnation.”

“But how do I get there?” Balian asked.

“The answer is before your eyes,” said Michael...

Someone was shaking him awake. “Balian, wake up. You’re having a bad dream,” said Will’s voice. The blacksmith’s eyes opened. Will Turner, Captain of the Flying Dutchman, ferryman of souls. He scrambled to his feet.

“Will, I need to go to World’s End now,” he said. “I need to get to Hell.”

Will goggled at him. “Why?” he stammered.

“I have to save my wife. Please, Will. It’s urgent!”

“Right,” said the pirate. “Wake everyone and tell them where we’re heading, and tell them to hang on!”

“What, what?” said Jack, jumping to his feet.

“Wake the others!” shouted Balian. “We’re going to Hell!”


“I said, we’re going to Hell!”


By now, this commotion had woken everyone on board the Flying Dutchman and the Black Pearl.

“Is there a reason why you have a sudden desire to go into Satan’s lair, Master Balian?” drawled Barbossa from the other ship.

“What’s Hell, and what’s Satan?” asked Paris.

“Hell is where bad people like Barbossa go after they die, to be punished for eternity,” explained Jack. “Satan is another name for the Devil, who is the Lord of Hell.”

“Oh,” said Briseis in a small voice as understanding dawned on her. Unconsciously, she leaned closer to Achilles, seeking comfort in his presence. “Tartarus.”

“So...why does Balian want to go to the place of eternal damnation?” asked Achilles, wondering if the man whom he held in such high esteem had suddenly gone mad.

“I need to save my wife,” said Balian.

“Their child died, and she killed herself,” explained Legolas, looking sympathetically at his friend who seemed to be reliving the agony of those days, when he had first held his stillborn child and then later, had cut his wife’s body from the rafters.

Achilles drew Briseis close to him and held her close. He could not even bear to imagine losing her. Will was shouting orders to the crew while steering the ship with expertise.

“Hold on!” shouted the captain. Balian caught sight of Andromache with Astyanax, and he felt a stab of guilt. Such a venture was very dangerous for her baby, and they all knew it. He waved her over to the rigging, where there was a number of hand holds.

“I promised Hector I won’t let anything happen to you,” he said as he latched onto the rope of either side of her so that his body shielded her and her baby. “I’m a man of my word.”

“I trust you, Balian,” said Andromache “but Tartarus isn’t exactly an easy place to get to and get out of. You won’t be able to control what happens.” She clung to the rope with one hand and her baby with the other for all she was worth.

“I need to go. There is no other way.”

“Captain Turner!” shouted Barbossa. “Is there any way we can join in this little venture? I have a feelin’ there’s somethin’ else at World’s End other than just the dead.”

“Whelp...I mean...Will! Don’t tell him!” hollered Jack as he began to panic. He had finally deciphered his map. “There’s a way from World’s End to the location of the Fountain of Youth!”

“The Pearl can’t go unless it’s by the usual way!” said Will “But you’re more than welcome to join us if you promise to keep an eye on Jack!”

“Oi!” said Jack. “I thought you were my friend!”

“I’ll be more than happy to oblige,” said Barbossa with a malicious glint in his eye.

“And Jack cannot be harmed,” added Will hastily. “No funny business. I know you can worm your way out of most promises.”

Barbossa looked insulted. “You seem to be thinkin’ that I have no honour,” he said.

“You’re a pirate,” scoffed Will. “Of course you have no honour.”

“Can we talk later?” demanded Balian, who was getting impatient. “We’re wasting time!”

Barbossa boarded the Dutchman, having left one of Will’s more trusted crewmembers in charge of the Pearl. He didn’t trust his own crew —or rather, what remained of it— enough.

The Dutchman began to sink beneath the waves. The wind was howling, but the seas around them were calm. It seemed that only the ghostly ship was affected. The waves closed over their heads. There was a flash of green light, and then they were in the air again, coughing and spluttering. Astyanax protested loudly about his midnight dunking.

“So this is the world of the Dead,” said Achilles.

“Pretty much,” said Jack. “If I hadn’t saved you, you would’ve been here.”

Achilles rolled his eyes and resolved to pay Jack back as soon as possible. It was embarrassing to be reminded of how he survived every second hour.

Legolas surveyed his surroundings with narrowed eyes. It was much darker than it had been last time. The only light came from the ship, illuminating the murky waters around it with eerie green light. Everything was still and silent, and dead. As his eyes adjusted to the lack of light, he found that they were actually on a wide river. “The River Styx,” explained Will. “This area is out of my jurisdiction but Charon does not mind my intrusions as long as I don’t interfere with his work.” The young pirate sighed. “There are so many lost souls wandering listlessly around because they did not receive the proper burial rites. I wish I could help them.”

“Where is your area?” asked Balian, coming to join his friends at the helm of the ship.

“Downriver, in the ocean,” replied Will.

“And where’s Hell?”

“On an offshore island. I don’t go by there if I can help it.”

Cassandra had to admire Balian’s devotion to his late wife, and she was very jealous of the woman. She had abandoned Balian, and she did not deserve a man who would go to Tartarus to save her unworthy soul. ‘At least she can’t come back and claim him,’ thought Cassandra. ‘That would be most unfair.’ She watched her beloved warrior pacing on the deck, his brow furrowed in a frown. He stopped beside her brother and peered out into the cloying fog.

From the gloomy mist along the shores, gleaming white eyes peered out at them. Paris saw many of his compatriots on the wrong side of the river. “Is there really no way to help them?” he demanded.

“Not unless they find their way to my area or you go back to the world of the Living and give them all proper burials,” said Will. He pulled out his spyglass and peered through it. “We are nearing my port, where I pick up souls.”

“That’s nice,” said Jack dryly. “We get to share the ship with dead people other than the Whelp and Barbossa’s scraggly little rat.”

“It’s a monkey,” said Legolas.

Suddenly, Paris gave a start. He saw Priam standing on the wrong bank of the Styx. Unfortunately, Hecuba saw her late husband too, and all her memories came flooding back. “Priam?” she shrieked. Before anyone could stop her, the Queen of Troy flung herself over the rails and into the river, fighting desperately against the current to get to her husband. Paris made to jump in after his mother, but he was held back by his friends.

“If you enter these waters, your soul will remain here forever,” said Will. “It is not your time to die, Paris.”

“But my mother...” began Paris. With the help of the souls on the wrong side of the river, who had thrown her a rope, Hecuba scrambled onto land. She became as insubstantial as the rest of the souls even as Priam embraced her. Her eyes shone with joy. The king and queen waved to their remaining children.

“Make us proud, Paris,” called the king. “You’re becoming more of a man than anyone has ever expected. Look after your sisters and your brother’s wife, and Astyanax of course.”

“Give them our love,” said Hecuba.

Paris nodded mutely. He could not speak for the lump in his throat. “They’re at peace,” Legolas told them quietly.

Achilles was very uncomfortable. There were too many familiar faces, on both sides of the Styx. “Achilles! Over here!” That was a voice he knew very well.

“Patroclus!” he shouted. “Where are you?”

“Over here!” Through the mist, the Greek warrior could make out an excited figure jumping up and down, waving. “What are you doing here, Achilles?” asked Patroclus. “And why do you have a different boatman? He seems nicer than Charon. Haven’t I seen him somewhere before, as in Troy?”

“I’m not dead, Patroclus, not yet. And yes, you have seen Will before in Troy, from a distance. Have you seen Hector around?”

“Hector? Is he dead? No, I haven’t seen him, but this is a very big place.”

“That’s good to know,” said Achilles sarcastically, but he was grinning with the joy of seeing his cousin again. Paris watched this from further down the boat, his bitter pain almost overwhelming him. Achilles got to talk to his cousin again, but he’d just lost his mother and he couldn’t see Hector anywhere.


After many hours of sailing down the Styx, they finally reached open water, and Will’s port. It was crammed with souls, all clamouring to be let on board. Will lowered the gangplank, and then he heard a familiar voice which made him jump. “I see you didn’t manage to save Troy,” said Hector.


A/N: I suppose this whole going to Hell to rescue the damsel in distress thing is totally off topic. (Balian insisted on it by the way. He can be very persuasive when he puts his mind to it).

Kiwi, the whole bit about not letting absinthe touch the tongue was lifted from Van Helsing, so it wouldn't be fair if I claimed credit for it.
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Old March 28th, 2008, 09:00 AM
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KiwiGirl KiwiGirl is offline
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Great chapter and very poignant for them to see those that they had lost. This is getting really interesting now and I am very glad that you are doing this for Balian.

Loved how you had Hector come into the story, am very eager to see what happens next..

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Old April 1st, 2008, 07:24 PM
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Telcontar Rulz Telcontar Rulz is offline
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Chance Encounter: Pirate Kingdom of Troy

Disclaimer: I don’t own Balian, Legolas, Will, Jack, Paris, Hector...you get the idea. I’m just borrowing them without permission but with every intention of returning them, savvy?

Chapter 23: Into the Fire

Everyone gaped at the spectre of the late Prince of Troy. For someone who was naught but a spirit, he looked extremely solid.

“What...what are you doing here?” stuttered Will. “You...Styx...”

“By rights, that is indeed where I should be,” said Hector “but when I first got to the Underworld, I thought I’d never get the coins to pay the boatman, so I wandered, and ended up here. These souls told me that the ferryman who docks here didn’t take payment, so I thought I’d have a better chance if I stayed here.” Hector shrugged. “I met some interesting characters, I have to say.”

“Captain Turner,” said one of the other souls. I see you’ve gotten yourself involved in more misadventures. Prince Hector has told me about all of them, including your divine masquerade.”

Will blushed. “That was in the service of a friend, Commodore — Admiral Norrington,” he said.

“Just ‘James’, thank you,” said James Norrington. “The dead have no ranks.”

“So stop calling me ‘Prince Hector’,” said Hector.

“Sorry. Old habits die hard. No pun intended.”

“Why don’t you come aboard, Hector and James?” said Will. “Everyone wants to see Hector and I’m sure they wouldn’t mind meeting you either, James...well, at least some of them won’t mind.”

“No, no, clear out Davy Jones’ backlog first,” said James. “I can wait a while longer. It isn’t fair otherwise.”

“Hector, come aboard,” said Paris in a cajoling tone. “Andromache really needs to see you. I need to see you.”

Hector hesitated. His honour conflicted with his desire to be with his family again. He looked to James for his opinion. James shrugged. “What can I say? You have a family. Of course they take priority over everything,” said the dead seaman. “Don’t worry about leaving me all alone, not that I will be alone. I was fine before you came and I’ll be fine now.”

“I’ll see you on the other side, James,” said Hector.

“Say hello to your little boy for me,” said James, waving as Hector climbed up the gangplank “and give my greetings to your wife.”

“Who would’ve known?” said Jack as the ship pulled away from the dock. “That man is actually decent.”

“I’m sure Elizabeth would’ve told you before,” said Will. “James is only here because he was, uh, killed while protecting her.”

“So anyone who’s good to your bonnie lass is a good man, is that what you’re saying?”

“Yes,” said Will bluntly.

“So by your standards, Hector Barbossa is a good man?” Both Hector and Barbossa turned to see what was going on.

“Well, no, since he kidnapped Elizabeth that time.”

“You still ain’t forgiven me for that, Cap’n Turner?” said Barbossa lazily, sounding as if he didn’t care at all. “I’m hurt. And don’t use me full name, Jack Sparrow.”

“It’s Captain Jack Sparrow, and I’ll call you what I want, savvy?” said Jack, and then he ran, catching an unsuspecting Balian and using him as a shield. Barbossa lunged at Jack, only to crash into the blacksmith who happened to be in the wrong place at the right time. All three of them went down in a heap.

“Hector Barbossa?” asked Hector as the crew pulled the three men apart.

“Hector is his real name,” explained Will. “Barbossa is his family name. It’s more like Hector of the house of Barbossa, as in you’re Hector of the House of Assaracus.”

“So in your world, I’d be Hector Assaracus?”

“Pretty much.”

“Thanks, mate,” said Jack, grinning at Balian. The blacksmith rolled his eyes. His mood had not been great lately. He had been plagued by dreams of his dead wife in hell and his sleep had not been restful at all. He pushed past Jack and climbed up to the crow’s nest, peering far into the distance; unknown to him, it was in the wrong direction.

“Uh, Balian?” called Will. “Hell’s actually quite far away and we don’t get there for some time, so why don’t you come down and we’ll do something to pass the time?” The young captain signalled discreetly to his father, who nodded. Bootstrap went below deck and came back up with cups and dice.

“Come and join an old man at a game of Liar’s Dice,” said Bootstrap, setting out the game pieces.

“Aye, come down, and stop looking as if the rum’s all gone,” said Jack. “It’ll be good! You’ll finally learn the most important skill in life.”

“And what is that, Jack Sparrow?” said Balian as he climbed down.

“Lying, and getting away wif it,” said Jack “and it’s Captain Jack Sparrow to you, my boy.”

This time, it was Barbossa who stopped Balian from throttling Jack.

“He is in a really bad mood,” observed Legolas as Barbossa managed to calm the young man down. “I’ve never seen him like this before.”

“The thought of his wife burning in Hell must be driving him mad, especially now that he’s having those dreams all the time,” said Will. “There hasn’t been a single night when we haven’t had to wake him up from a nightmare.”

“Well, I’m in for a game,” said Achilles loudly, trying to lighten the mood. “Care to join me, anyone?”

Soon, Achilles, Balian, Legolas and Bootstrap were sitting down to a game of Liar’s Dice. “The loser has to down a mug of rum,” called Will as he steered the ship.

“I thought we didn’t have any rum left,” said Jack.

“How do you think we get rum when we’ve been out here for a few years now?” asked Will. “Calypso restocks it every now and then.” Jack immediately ran below deck. There was a whoop of joy some moments later.

As it turned out, Balian was a terrible liar. Within three games, he was less sober than Jack Sparrow. And his singing voice was even worse than his lying skills.

Barbossa hastily ushered the drunken blacksmith below deck and locked him in the captain’s cabin. Legolas was grimacing as if in agony. “Remind me never to make him drunk again,” he said.

“Your memory must be atrocious then if you need reminding,” said Will.

Little Astyanax, being a rather poor judge of music, clapped his fat little hands delightedly and giggled. A stream of drool ran down his chin. Hector bounced the baby on his knee while Andromache leaned against him with her head resting on his shoulder.

“I didn’t know souls could feel so solid,” she murmured.

“This is the world of the Dead,” said Hector. “Nothing is as we expect it.”

“I never expected to see you again, at least, not without dying.”

“For a moment, I almost panicked when I saw you.”

Cassandra sat a slight distance away from the couple, watching them. She wondered whether she would ever have such an existence with the man she loved. He seemed oblivious to her feelings and lately, had had been too occupied with his late wife to pay the princess much attention. Such devotion only made her want him more. Unbeknownst to her, she was being watched.

“How do we convince her that he’s not the right one for her?” said Helen to Paris. “This can’t go on. She’ll only end up hurt, and putting him in a very awkward position.”

“The only way is to have Balian tell her himself,” said Paris. “I know my sister. She won’t believe us.”

“You know that this is nigh impossible. Balian is a good and talented man, but he is not the most prolific speaker. Do you think she’ll listen if Hector or Andromache spoke to her?”

“I’ll talk to Hector about it.”

Unfortunately for Paris, and Balian, Hector’s response was totally unexpected. “Cassandra truly does know how to choose a man,” said the older prince. “He is worthy of any princess.”

“Yes, yes,” said Paris impatiently “but he is not in love with our sister. He still loves his Sibylla, and his late wife. He can’t forget them.”

“Paris, Sibylla abandoned him. That is enough to shatter any bond between them, surely. As for his late wife, once he’s saved her from eternal damnation, he’ll be ready to move on.”

The younger prince was not convinced, but Hector would not be persuaded. In the captain’s cabin, the subject of their conversation slept fitfully, assailed by drink-induced nightmares.


The sky above Hell was perpetually dark, save for the unnatural glow of eternal fires. The island itself was surrounded by treacherous rocks, jutting out from the black water like jagged teeth waiting to devour unwary ships. High walls rose on all sides of the island and demons lurked at the gates, preventing anyone from getting out.

The Flying Dutchman was anchored some distance from the shore. “I can take you no further,” said Will to Balian. “The way is too treacherous for the ship to navigate through. We must take one of the boats.”

Balian didn’t say anything. His face was a mask of determination. He simply nodded and with the help of the others, lowered a boat down the side of the ship. Balian climbed in, and was joined by Legolas, Will, and Achilles. Hector made to follow them but Will stopped him. “It’s too dangerous, Hector,” he said. “You are one of the dead and if you pass through those gates, you will never get out.” Paris was also persuaded not to join in the venture into the Devil’s lair. Despite his intelligence, he would only be a hindrance as he was no warrior and he was not afraid to throw away his honour, something which made him extremely vulnerable to the evil which lurked behind the high walls.

Jack and Barbossa elected to stay behind and look after the ship in conjunction with Bootstrap. Up until know, Bootstrap and Barbossa had been ignoring each other. However, due to their need to cooperate in this unfamiliar and dangerous territory, they reluctantly put aside their personal grievances, carefully avoiding topics such as mutinies or Aztec gold.

“I wonder if you’ll see ole Cutler Beckett there,” said Jack to Will as the latter prepared for this latest venture.

“If he is here, then it would be because I brought him here,” said Will. “I don’t remember seeing him on my ship so no, he’s probably no here, unless Charon has been breaking the rules and ferrying the souls of those who die at sea as well. He wouldn’t have taken Beckett anyway. Beckett didn’t have the right sort of funeral, if he had one at all.”

“Pity. If he was in there, I would’ve liked to gloat.”

“Be careful what you wish for, Jack,” warned Will. “Such uncharitable thoughts might mean that you could get sent in there, and no one will be able to save you from Hell.”

“Oh bugger all.”

The murky waters had an unnatural oily film on the surface, gleaming with the hues of a corrupted rainbow. No one in the boat spoke. Balian focused all his energy on rowing and all the others were too uncomfortable to start a conversation. The very atmosphere of this place was enough to make Legolas want to shudder. The dark tendrils of evil seemed to be attempting to wrap themselves around him, like a strangling fingers. The elf pressed his lips together and tried to think of something pleasant, like the Golden Wood, but whenever he put together an image of Lothlorien, the trees were bare and dying; their golden leaves had long turned to dust. Everything was devoid of life, no matter how hard he tried to conjure up other images.

The Gates of Hell were wide open like the maw of some leviathan from which hot fiery breath issued. Balian muttered prayers in Latin under his breath. “Ave Maria, grazia pleina; dominus tecum...” he said, glaring at the demons at the gates. Maybe it was the prayer, maybe it was the fierce determination that was emanating from him; maybe it was both—it didn’t really matter that much to him. The main thing was that the demons made no move to stop them from getting onto the shore and they stepped aside as the blacksmith strode purposefully towards the gates.

The stench of burning hair and skin, and the screams of the damned almost overwhelmed them. Achilles took an involuntary step backwards, but his path was blocked by the servants of Satan. “Once you’re in, there’s no way out,” they hissed. “The Master will not let any of his charges go. We know what you want, but it is a futile gesture on your behalf. She belongs to him now.”

Balian stopped in his tracks and turned around to face the demons. They met his eyes and their confidence wavered. “We’ll see about that,” growled the man. “I will fight him for my wife’s freedom if I must.”

“You will die!” they snarled, and then shrank back pathetically as Balian advanced upon them like an angel of justice.

“Don’t waste your time with those, Balian,” called Will. “You will need all your strength if you’re to get your wife out of here.”

“How will you find her?” asked Legolas. Balian had never seen the elf so nervous.

“I’ll follow my heart,” replied the man. “My instincts will tell me.”

“That’s comforting,” said Legolas with only a hint of his usual sarcasm. “Your instincts led you to head butt an orc with a helmet once.”

“Trust me,” said Balian. “I think I know what I’m doing.”

“I do trust you,” said Legolas. “That makes me a bigger fool than most, in situations like this one.”

In amidst the flames there was a barely discernable path. At the sides were the tortured souls, reaching out with bony charred hands to grab at the living intruders, moaning in their agony and their desperate desire to leave this place. They clawed at the intruders’ clothe.

“Balian! Save me!” Balian whipped around on hearing this voice.

“Who’s calling me?” he demanded. One of the damned souls waved to catch his eye. It was his brother, still clothed in his priest’s garb but looking nothing like a man of God. “Guillaume?”

“Balian, I beg you, please save me!” Gone was the arrogant air which had surrounded Guillaume in life. The Hellish fires had eaten away his dignity. He was now not too proud to grovel at the feet of the bastard brother he had once scorned.

Balian hesitated. There was no affection between him and Guillaume but despite everything, Guillaume was still his brother. They had come from the same womb and Guillaume’s father had raised Balian as his own son.

“Only one may leave with you,” said Michael’s voice inside his head. “Choose wisely, Balian son of Godfrey.”

“I’m sorry, Guillaume,” said Balian after pondering the angel’s words. “I can’t help you.”

“But I’m your brother!” wailed Guillaume.

“I came for Jocelyn.”

“Unlike her, you truly do deserve this fate,” said Legolas to Balian’s brother unsympathetically.

“What happened to him?” Achilles asked Will.

“He provoked Balian to kill him, in a nutshell,” replied Will

“Balian killed his brother in a nutshell?” said a very confused Achilles. “How is that possible?”

“What I mean is that to put it simply, he provoked Balian to kill him,” said Will.


The further they ventured into Hell, the more intense the heat became. Sweat ran down their faces in rivulets and soaked their clothes, but they quickly dried. Their mouths became parched and started to taste of old leather. And then suddenly, the path stopped. The three men and one elf stared at the dead end with disbelief. Beyond that was a field of fire, riddled with rivers and lakes of molten rock.

“What do we do now?” asked Achilles.

“True gold fears no fire,” said Balian, striding stubbornly into the flames. At once, he felt as if he was being burned alive. He opened his mouth to scream in agony, but no sound came out. Only sheer determination made him go on. He was doing this for Jocelyn. Everything was worth getting her out of Hell. The pain subsided as abruptly as the path had ended. Behind him, he heard cursing. So his companions did care enough to come after him.

“You are the maddest thing, both alive and dead,” panted Legolas. Balian did not respond. The blacksmith was staring directly ahead of him, where scantily clad people of breathtaking beauty lounged on cushions of silk. Fornications of every sort were taking place. There were platters of succulent meats and goblets of wine, and they were dining well. The others beckoned to the travellers with their seductive voices, inviting them to join in the devilish merrymaking.


Stay tuned...


Jerusalem fades into Minas Tirith.

Minas Tirith fades into a ship on the open ocean.

Jack bumps his head on the rafters of a hobbit hole.

Jack: Where the hell are we?


A dark hooded figure stands up.

Guy smiles and raises his sword.

Guy: We close in on Minas Tirith.


Legolas peers out into a storm on the ocean. He is in a ship.

Balian glares defiantly at Richard Coeur de Lion.

Will entertains Merry and Pippin.

Barbossa shoots an orc.

Paris greets Aragorn.

Balian: (to Andromache) I wonder where the others are now.


Legolas and Elizabeth stand back to back pointing guns at the surrounding redcoats.

Paris shoots a fell beast while Will fights a haradrim.

Balian draws his sword and prepares to fight Templars.


Balian and Imad clasp hands.

Aragorn embraces Legolas.

Faramir and Balian greet each other.

Will and Elizabeth kiss.

Balian kisses Sibylla.

Guy fights Balian.


Balian: (to Richard) I will not serve.

Aragorn eyes Jack warily.

Merry, Pippin, Gimli, Ragetti and Pintel partake in a drinking game.

Elizabeth practises sword fighting with Éowyn.

Imad looks Barbossa up and down.

Balian embraces a small dark-haired child with blue eyes. There are tears in Balian’s eyes.




A/N: Here’s my version of Hell. Because of my religion, the images are decidedly Christian, although I have tried to deviate from the usual stereotypes. Suffice to say that I haven’t been too successful, I think.

Thanks, Kiwi. I felt that Balian and Jocelyn's story needed some sort of satisfactory conclusion.
Telcontar Rulz
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Old April 3rd, 2008, 09:27 AM
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KiwiGirl KiwiGirl is offline
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Location: New Zealand
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Great chapter and I think you descriptions were pretty much in line with what I would imagine it to be like.

Was good to see Norrington and to have Hector back with his family. I like the touches of humour that you still weave in with the more serious stuff.

So they go back to middle earth??? looking forward to seeing how that plays out....

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Old April 4th, 2008, 11:17 PM
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Telcontar Rulz Telcontar Rulz is offline
Inspired by him
Join Date: Jul 2007
Location: New Zealand
Posts: 886
Chance Encounter: Pirate Kingdom of Troy

Disclaimer: I don’t own Balian, Legolas, Will, Jack, Paris, Hector ... you get the idea. I’m just borrowing them without permission but with every intention of returning them, savvy?

Video Trailer: www.youtube.com/watch?v=rvCDqpD09dI

Chapter 24: True Love Fears No Fire

The four travellers gaped wordlessly at the scene before them. They were creatures of flesh and blood after all, and such images affected them immensely. Balian wished he could close his eyes but he couldn’t. He had never seen such blatantly carnal sights and was driven by disgusted curiosity.

“Come,” said the demons, beckoning to them. “Join our feasting. There are seldom travellers who make it this far. Drink, and make merry. No rules, no duties, bind us here. You are free to do whatever you wish, whenever you wish.”

Will swallowed and tried to keep his mind on Elizabeth, but the demons’ voices were intoxicating. He found them drowning out his conscience and his common sense. After the horrors which they had been through, he found it awfully tempting to give into the invitations.

Legolas saw the effect of the demons on his friends, and he started to get worried. If they gave in, they would be trapped here forever. “They’re trying to trap you!” he shouted. “You will be a prisoner forever if you give in!”

The demons, on hearing the elf’s resistance to their methods, changed their tactics. They put dark thoughts into the men’s minds, making them suspect one another. Balian heard them urging him to kill Achilles. His hand strayed to the hilt of his sword. He restrained himself just in time. “Right,” he muttered, straining to keep his sanity. “You’ve got your tricks. I’ve got mine.” He began to pray, asking for the strength to endure and remain true. Legolas’ voice joined his, imploring Iluvatar to help them. Will started to recite the only prayer in Latin he could remember. Their voices drowned out those of the demons, and they were able to continue on their way.

Emotionally drained, the three men and one elf stumbled past the trap of seductive demons and into a barren landscape.

“This is worse than anything I have ever encountered,” said Achilles.

“There are some things in this world which strength of arms alone cannot defeat,” said Legolas.

“I shouldn’t have let you come with me,” said Balian. “This is my burden to bear.”

“Nonsense,” said Will. “We’re friends, and friends share burden. Anyway, we came of our own accord.”

“As if you could’ve stopped us from coming,” said Legolas, squeezing Balian’s shoulder. “We’re in this together.” He grimaced. “Although next time, someone else should think of the plan.”

“My plans work, Legolas,” said Balian. “You can’t deny that.”

“Your successes, my friend, are based on luck which opposes the laws of probability and logic.”

“I’m impressed,” said Will. “You two can joke in Hell, how can you do that?”

“One thing, Captain Turner,” said Legolas. “I’m Legolas Greenleaf, understand?”

Will and Balian looked alarmed. Legolas was more tired than he was willing to admit. They were all exhausted.

“Come on,” said Balian, glancing worriedly at the elf, “the sooner we find my wife, the sooner we can get out of here.” The fiery fields were beginning again. Through the haze of heat, they could see an island in the middle of a lack of molten rock. A young woman was on that island, cowering at the feet of a maliciously beautiful spectre.

“Jocelyn!” cried Balian. He rushed forward, leaping over small streams of lava and paying no heed to the dangers in his path. Demons threw themselves at him to stop his charge. He cut them down. Their foul blood burnt his flesh when it touched his skin. He ignored it. Behind him, he could hear his friends following him. Arrows flew past his head and felled three demons. Gunshots rang out.


Hector played with Astyanax absent-mindedly as Paris paced on the deck of Will’s ship, almost growling with frustration. “You know, if you continue doing that, mate, you might just wear a hole in the deck,” Jack pointed out, before taking another swig from his bottle of rum.

“I’m worried about them,” said Paris, looking in the direction of the island of Hell. “They’ve been gone for so long.”

“Something’s happened,” said Cassandra quietly. Her voice was shaking. “Something terrible. Oh gods...Balian...”

“What’s happening?” demanded Paris, whipping around to face his sister. “Oh for the love of the gods, Cassandra, stop speaking in riddles for once and tell me what’s wrong!”

“I don’t know...it’s...it’s just a feeling...”

“She is right,” said a stranger’s voice. They all stopped what they were doing to search for the source. A glowing figure stood serenely at the prow. His shining robes billowed about him as if there was a great wind. The figure’s face was hidden by light. None of them could bear to look directly at him. They shielded their eyes with their hands.

“Who...who are you?” demanded Paris.

“Do not be afraid,” said the figure. His light diminished until it no longer hurt their eyes. “My name is Michael, and I am known to your friend Balian. I am his guardian.”

“Are you a god?” asked Briseis in wonder.

“Nay, I am not a ‘god’ although you do apply that term to some of my counterparts,” said Michael. “For my part, I prefer ‘angel’. I don’t know whether Balian might have mentioned that word before or not.”

“Whaddya want?” said Barbossa, wondering what an angel was doing on their—Will Turner’s— ship.

“I have been sent to fetch you, Hector, son of Priam,” said the angel, turning to the older prince. “Even we in Heaven have heard of your virtues. The Lord God has a purpose for you.”

“Am I to be reborn?” asked Hector.

“No, not reborn. You have been deemed worthy of being a divine warrior.”

“And which god has deemed me worthy?”

“There is but one God, and He is the God whom Balian serves.” Michael held out a hand. “Come. Your task is quite different from Balian’s although your fates will be forever intertwined. The Lord God awaits.”

Hector took a step forwards, and then glanced back at his wife and child. Andromache looked frightened while Astyanax was too small to understand what was going on.

“Do not fret,” said Michael. “You will see them again, Hector of Troy.” Hesitatingly, the prince stepped up to where the angel was. Michael touched him on the shoulder and then they both vanished in a flash of pure light which threatened to blind everyone.

“Good bye, Hector,” whispered Andromache, thinking that her husband had crossed to the other side. A tear slipped down her cheek. Helen put her arms around the older woman to offer her what comfort she could. Paris’ expression was unreadable.

“It’s all for the best, lad,” said Barbossa. “There’s a better place than any of us have seen.”

They waited listlessly on the ship for their friends’ return, but the little rowboat remained empty on the shore.

“It’s good to know that I’m missed,” said Hector’s voice. Andromache gave a little scream and Paris forgot to breathe.

“Hector?” he said. “I thought you’d crossed to the other side.”

“Unfortunately, my task requires that I stay half way in between the worlds of the dead and the living, making me decidedly ‘undead’, so to speak,” said Hector. He now glowed with divine light and was armoured as if he was going into battle.

“That’s...interesting,” said Jack.

“I’ve heard some disturbing news,” said Hector. “Our friends have encountered some trouble, as they often do.” He jerked his head in the direction of Hell. “I’m going in there to help them.”

“I’m coming too,” said Paris, running below deck to fetch one of the pirates’ strange looking swords.

“Count me in,” said Bootstrap. “I’m not staying behind if my son’s in trouble.”

“I’ll be going with ye,” said Barbossa. “The Devil’s not one to be taken lightly.”

“And I will go and rescue the whelp again,” said Jack with a flourish. “It won’t do to go breaking tradition now, will it?”

“One question,” said Briseis. “What about us?”

“Stay, and look after the ship,” said the men at once.

Briseis glared at them, but her cousins would not relent. She had no choice but to stay behind. Barbossa had threatened to lock her in the brig. What she did not know was that Will had the keys, making the threat rather empty.

“You know,” said Helen gently. “They are right. Someone needs to look after the ship and we know we won’t be very useful in there.”

“I wish I’d been born a man,” said Briseis sulkily.

“If you had been born a man, I doubt that Achilles would’ve fallen in love with you,” reasoned Helen.

Briseis could not think of a reply to that, so she stormed below deck and cast herself on a hammock to sulk.


Demons with leathery faces and tough translucent wings assailed them. Balian tried to fight them off, but he only had two hands. They clawed at the intruders with their sharp pointed talons. “In the name of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost, disperse and trouble us no more!” cried Balian. He wasn’t sure whether it would work but this was what the priests back in Europe did to exorcise those who had been possessed by unwholesome spirits. The demons hesitated for a bit, and then resumed the attack. Obviously Balian’s faith was not strong enough. Either it was that, or prayers didn’t work. The four companions defended themselves as best they could.

“Back, you sons of *****es!” came Bootstrap’s voice. Another arrow flew past their heads and hit a demon squarely in the chest. The reinforcements had arrived. Cuss words in English, French, Elvish, Dwarvish and Greek flew everywhere. There were even a few in the Pelagostos’ tongue — courtesy of Jack. The corrupted creatures finally gave up their attack. Too many of them had been killed. Courage was not one of their attributes.

On the island, the spectre raised his hands and clapped slowly, mockingly. “Bravo,” he drawled. “I never thought that you’d make it this far, Balian, Holy Warrior of Yahweh.”

“Let my wife go, Satan,” spat Balian. The master of Hell looked at him with amusement. His eyes were bottomless pits of oozing malice and whenever he smiled, it looked like a sneer on the skull of a dead man.

“That is indeed what you men call me,” said the Devil “but I prefer Lucifer.”

“You forfeited the right to that name a long time ago,” snarled the blacksmith, taking a high guard. Satan laughed.

“My, I must admit that I am surprised. Yahweh’s servants have always been foolish but you are by far the most foolish of all of them. Tell me, Balian, what harm do you think your mere mortal weapon can do to me, hmm? You want your wife. I am quite happy to let you have her, if you will only worship me.” The Devil waved his hand. Images of splendid cities and mountains of wealth flashed before them. “All this can be yours, if you will only acknowledge my supremacy. Is it really so hard, to change your allegiance?”

“I’ve said it before, and I will say it again,” said Balian. “I will not sell my soul.”

“Amen to that,” said Jack stubbornly. The last time he’d done that, he’d had disastrous results. “What use have we for riches any way, eh? We’ve got enough. We don’t need yours.”

“Is that right, Captain Sparrow?” said the Devil. “What about immortality? I can give you that too.”

Jack hesitated, and then made a face at Satan. “Hah! I can get that meself! Who wants your gifts?”

“Let the lady go,” growled Legolas.

“Or else?” said Satan, grabbing Jocelyn by the arm and hoisting her to her feet.

“You’ll regret it otherwise, Satan,” said Hector calmly.

“You heard him,” said Achilles. “Let her go, or we’ll make you pay.”

“I highly doubt it,” hissed the fallen angel. With that, his appearance began to change. He grew in stature even as he lost the dangerous beauty which he had shown them. His flesh moulded itself to show the shape of his bones and his eyes, now piercingly white and glowing, sank deep into his skull. His body appeared to be aflame from within and his teeth became sharp like the fangs of a snake. The Devil walked across the lake of molten rock. It did not burn him.

Balian gripped his sword tightly and fought to control the fear which was rising up inside him. Jocelyn needed him to be strong.

“I ask you one last time,” said Satan. “Will you serve me?”

“You said it once to God, Lucifer, and I will repeat your words to you now,” said Balian through gritted teeth. “I will not serve.”

“Then you will beg for death, and I will not grant it.”

“No!” screamed Jocelyn from the island. “Balian! Get away from here while you still can! I was selfish to pray that you would come for me! Go on, now!”

“I came of my own volition!” replied her husband. “I will not leave unless it is with you in tow. I have made my decision.”

“Love,” sneered the Devil. “How...touching.” He flicked a finger, and Balian was flung several feet away. The man’s body slammed into a rock. He gasped as he heard and felt a crack, and then pain lanced through his chest. He fell to the ground wheezing. Will and Legolas lunged at Satan, only to be stopped by a wave of the fallen angel’s hand and sent flying backwards, crashing into everyone else.

“Pathetic,” said Satan. “I would’ve thought that Yahweh would’ve chosen something stronger to be his warrior.” Balian picked himself up and charged, determined to rescue his wife no matter what the cost. His sudden assault caught Satan off guard, but he made little impact on the Prince of Darkness. The Devil caught him by the neck with a burning hand. The man felt his breath being cut off by the powerful grip. Blood roared in his ears. Jocelyn’s screams and his friend’s shouts were distant. All he could feel was the agony in his neck and chest as the Devil slowly proceeded to crush his airway. Fatuously, he tried to pry away the manacle-like talons from his throat. He needed air. In his weakening struggles, his eyes fell on Jocelyn, still on the island.

‘I don’t regret anything,’ he thought, hoping that she would understand that his fate was not her fault.

Will rushed forward, but he halted suddenly in his tracks. Blood stained the front of his shirt. The wound in his chest had been reopened. The pain was excruciating. He fell to his knees. The agony robbed him of his voice. His pupils dilated.

“Will!” cried Bootstrap, rushing forward to take his son into his arms.

“No one hurts the whelp and gets away with it!” said Jack, he ran forward, brandishing both his pistol and his sword. Paris was right behind him. Hector just managed to push them out of the way as Satan threw a fireball at them.

The fallen angel laughed, thinking that his ball of flames would burn Hector, but the older prince dispelled it with a wave of his hand. “They didn’t make me a saint for nothing, Lucifer,” he said.

“Oh, and what can you do about it?” sneered Satan. He dropped Balian. The man gasped for breath as he sucked air into his deprived lungs. The Devil smiled and then placed his iron shod foot on the man’s body and proceeded to crush him. A straining cry escaped his lips. His hands clawed feebly at the ground. “What will you do, saint, as I crush this pathetic little pest and grind his bones into the dust.”

Jocelyn could only scream as the Lord of Hell tormented her husband. She was surrounded by molten rock. There was no way to get off the island without being burnt. ‘Oh damn it all,’ she thought. ‘He risked a fate worse than death to save me.’ With that, she flung herself into the fiery lake and tried to swim to the shore. Hot under-currents dragged her down. She was burning, burning, but she could not die. She was already dead.

Jack was wondering what he why he had volunteered to come. It had been the stupidest decision he had ever made, and that included the time he had decided to share the coordinates of the location of the Aztec gold with Barbossa. The pirate put it down to curiosity. ‘Curiosity killed the cat, Jackie,’ he told himself ‘and it might very well kill the sparrow too.’

Hector did not bother to reply. He lunged at his enemy, sword raised. Satan parried the blow, but he had not expected the force of the righteous fury which powered it. He stumbled, relieving the pressure on Balian’s body. Painfully, and mustering the last of his strength, the man scrambled away and picked up his fallen sword from where it lay on the ground. “Go, get her!” shouted Hector.

Balian looked to the island, but his wife was gone. For a moment, he could see delicate flailing hands above the surface of the lake before they were dragged underneath again. The blacksmith did not even think as he readied his muscles to leap into the molten rock, but Legolas stopped him. “You will burn,” said the elf. “She must fight this on her own.”

Balian swallowed the urge to ignore the elf. He was right. If he leapt into that molten rock, he would die. That would do no good whatsoever. Just as he was about to give up hope, Jocelyn scrambled onto the shore, spluttering. Balian rushed to her and crushed her against him. Tears of relief and joy ran down his face. “Oh, Jocelyn...” he murmured.

“Yeah, yeah, very romantic,” said Jack sarcastically. “Can we go now? You can kiss her later. Heck, I’ll marry you meself.”

“Uh, Jack, they’re already married,” said Legolas, hauling Balian to his feet. The elf’s keen eyes could see a glowing doorway in the distance. With Hector bringing up the rear, the battered group ran through the door. The Lord of Hell made to follow them, but the doorway closed up just before he could step over the threshold.

Balian breathed in the cool clean air untainted by the scent of burning flesh. He had Jocelyn in his arms, and she looked whole again. The ligature marks on her neck were gone.

Bootstrap lowered the wounded Will to the ground. Hector knelt beside him. “How is he?”

“I’m fine,” whispered Will, although he looked very pale. Sweat beaded his skin and his breathing was shallow. “Don’t you remember? I can’t die.”

“Don’t tell me it doesn’t hurt, son,” said Bootstrap, cradling the captain of the Flying Dutchman as if he was a child.

“Allow me,” said Hector, placing his hands over Will’s wound. Before their eyes, the ragged edges of the wound joined together, and Will’s bleeding stopped. The young pirate’s features relaxed as the pain left him.

“That’s a miracle,” breathed Achilles.

“I’m not surprised,” said Jack. “He’s Saint Hector.”

“Who made him a saint?” asked Balian.

“The archangel Michael hisself, that’s who,” said Barbossa. He turned to Balian. “Now that you’ve got yer missus back, where to next?”

Balian looked up from a passionate kiss. “Excuse me?” he said. Obviously he hadn’t heard a single thing.

“Our next course of action, Balian,” said Legolas, sniggering.

“To Purgatory,” said Michael, appearing behind them suddenly. “You have been allowed to rescue your wife from Hell. That doesn’t mean she can return to the world of the living. She must go to Purgatory to prepare for her entry into Heaven.” He held out a hand to Jocelyn. “I will take her from here, Balian. You must return to the world of the living. You do not belong here. There is still a long road ahead of you.”

Jocelyn clung to Balian, unwilling to let him go. She glanced at Michael and then back at her husband. “Go on,” said Balian, giving her a gentle push in the angel’s direction. “Trust me. Everything will be fine. Nothing will hurt you, I promise.”

“Your husband is a man of his word,” said Michael, smiling gently to make her less afraid of him.

“How cheesy,” muttered Jack, fumbling around for his bottle of rum. He swore quietly as he realized he’d dropped it in Hell. “To think I left that old devil a drink.”

Jocelyn reluctantly took Michael’s hand. They vanished in a flash of light. Balian stared after them long after they’d disappeared. Hector came up from behind him and put a hand on his shoulder. “She’s at peace,” he said.

“Thank you,” said Balian, turning to the older prince of Troy.

“What for?” said Hector with a smile.

“If it hadn’t been for you, I would’ve died.”

“I’m just returning the favour. You did your best to save Troy. You even took Odysseus prisoner, and you rescued Paris and Cassandra. You owe me nothing, Balian.”

“Come on,” said Jack. “Let’s get back to the boat, where we can have hammocks and, more importantly, rum.”


Balian sank onto the deck in exhaustion. Cassandra descended on him, fretting like a mother. “Where does it hurt, Balian?” she asked anxiously.

“He’ll never give you a straight answer, my lady,” said Legolas in amusement. “Better to poke him everywhere and see whether he winces or not. It’s far more efficient.”

Balian glared at his friend. “Fine,” he wheezed, as Cassandra followed Legolas’ advice “next time you get injured, I’ll try that.”

“I won’t let you near me the next time I’m hurt,” said Legolas, grinning. “Your ribs are most definitely bruised, by the way, maybe even cracked.”

“He be needing a woman’s touch,” said a voice which startled all of them. Calypso sat on the rail, looking like a contented cat.

“Calypso,” said Will, quickly recovering. “I didn’t expect you to be back so soon.”

“Apparently not,” said the goddess, all the while eyeing Hector. “You will soon be free of this ship, William Turner, but the Dutchman must have a captain.”

“And who might this new captain be?” drawled Barbossa.

Calypso looked sulky. “It was my fellow god Hades who made this decision, but it has been decided that the captain of the Flying Dutchman will no longer be from the living, but from the dead. To be more exact, the undead.”

“The undead?” said Jack. “That’s very interesting.”

“Who is it?” asked Will, who could hardly contain his delight. He would be able to see Elizabeth again.

“He is on this ship,” said Calypso. “Which one of you no longer has a place in the world of the living, hmmm?”

All eyes turned to Hector, whose mouth was open with shock, making him look most unlike any saint which Balian had seen, not that he’d seen a saint who was not a painting or a statue.

“Ten years at sea, and then one day, you may step onto the shore, to be with she who loves you,” said Calypso. “Better than, surely, to wander around in the Underworld forever?”

“This has to be one of the better arrangements,” Jack whispered to Will.

“Say something, Hector,” said Paris.

“I...” began the older prince. “I accept, but I do not know how to sail.”

“That’s why you have a crew, Captain...what do I call you, sir?” said Bootstrap.

“Assaracus,” supplied Will. “Captain Hector Assaracus.”

“This is an odd turn of events,” said Balian dazedly to no one in particular.

“Most unexpected,” agreed Jack in his posh voice. He was looking at Hector with something akin to envy. Only Barbossa seemed unaffected. Legolas recovered quickly, just as Calypso disappeared in a mist of sea spray.

“Right, Master Balian, you are going to have your hurts tended to,” he said.

“Are you threatening him, Nurse Legolas?” asked Will.

“And you’d better stop calling me that, or I’m going to make sure you stay silent,” growled the elf although his mouth twitched as he fought the urge to laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation.

“You sound like my mother, Legolas,” Balian complained, but he allowed the elf to lead him below deck.

“But I think he’d be prettier than your mother,” called Jack. Legolas stopped.

“That’s it,” he said, forgetting about Balian and going back to deal with a pirate who did not know when to keep his mouth shut. The blacksmith decided that his injuries could wait. He was not about to miss the unfolding spectacle. Chaos reigned on the deck of the Flying Dutchman. Legolas was chasing Jack, while Paris was cheering and Achilles looked dumbfounded. Barbossa decided to interfere and he stuck his foot out, causing Jack to stumble and fall flat on his face. Legolas pounced on the pirate and the two of them wrestled on the wooden boards of the deck.

“Wait, wait,” said Jack. “I yield!”

“Call me ‘my lord’ and I might consider sparing you, Jack Sparrow,” said Legolas.

“It’s Captain Jack Sparrow...milord.”

Legolas seemed uncertain as to whether he should let Jack go or not. That was all the time that Jack needed to push him off and make a dash for the rigging. He scrambled up to the crow’s nest. “Hah!” he shouted down. “Can’t catch me now!”

“Really?” said Legolas, eyeing the crow’s nest.

“Is it always like this?” Achilles asked Will.

“Pretty much, “replied Will dryly.

“Forgive me for being a spoilsport,” drawled Barbossa “but I be thinkin’ that we’d best get back to the world of the livin’, seein, as I left me ship there. You don’t want to wander these unnatural seas forever.”

“He’s got a very good point,” said Legolas, abandoning the pursuit.

“The ship is yours, Captain Assaracus, to do with what you will,” said Will.

“So what do I do?” asked Hector.

“Command it to go back to the world of the livin’, you dolt,” called Jack.

“If I were you, Jack, I’d get out of the crow’s nest,” said Will. Jack seemed to think for a while before raising his eyebrows and grinning.

“Good point,” he said, climbing out.

Hector held Andromache and Astyanax close to him, aware that this would be one of the last times he would ever see his son as an infant. He closed his eyes, letting the sound of the waves lapping against the sides of the ship fill him. He was one with the sea. Concentrating his mind, he willed the ship to take them back to the world of the living. She was alive, responding to him like a horse to its master. Hector, tamer of horses.

Hector, tamer of ships.

They were plunged beneath the waves. The new captain of the Flying Dutchman heard the song of every sailor and was in his mind the glory of every vessel which sailed the seas. He saw once more, the shores of Troy and then Aeneas, setting forth from Sicily to the land of Latium. The ship emerged into air again. The captain opened his eyes.

The Pearl floated serenely beside them. Bottles of rum littered the deck. Empty bottles. Ragetti and Pintel were sprawled out and snoring. Will’s crewman, who had been in charge, was nowhere to be seen. Barbossa rolled his eyes. He was not impressed.

Boats were lowered and everyone, with the exception of Hector and the Dutchman’s crew, was transported onto the Pearl. Andromache was the last to go. Hector smiled and kissed her. “Do not weep, Andromache,” he said. “I have been given a chance which no other man, save for Will, has had. We will see each other again.”

“Ten years is a long time,” said Andromache, giving him a watery smile.

“But eternity is longer still,” said Hector reasonably. “I am leaving you and Astyanax in capable hands.”

“Balian’s hands are not your hands, my love.”

“Nevertheless, he will take good care of you.” The new captain pulled his wife into a passionate goodbye kiss. On the Pearl, Jack was about to wolf-whistle but he stopped himself when Will gave him a piercing glare.

The Dutchman sank beneath the waves again with a green flash. It would not emerge for another ten years, unless something entirely out of the ordinary happened. Jack and Barbossa were at the helm, once again wrestling for the steering wheel. “Where to now?” shouted Barbossa.

“Tortuga!” shouted Jack.

“Actually, I would like to go to New England,” said Will.

“Aye! Mrs. Turner will be wantin’ to see ye,” said Barbossa. “To New Englan’ it is then!”

“New England?” said Balian. “Is there a new England and an old England?”

“You’ll see,” said Will. He was not in the mood to explain the discoveries of Christopher Columbus to a twelfth century crusader knight. The prospect of seeing Elizabeth made him restless. The skies were darkening. It looked like there was going to be one of the Caribbean’s legendary storms. A huge wave assailed the ship. Andromache, who had been standing by the rail, was knocked overboard, with Astyanax in her arms.

“Andromache!” shouted Balian. Hector had entrusted his family to him. He would not fail the prince of Troy again. With no thought for his own safety, he leapt into the swirling water. The waves closed over his head. He fought to stay afloat and at the same time, tried to locate Andromache and Astyanax. His lungs were burning with the need for air, and the edges of his vision were beginning to darken, and he was becoming light-headed.

Legolas saw his friend leaping into the water, and he quickly followed, despite his opinion that Balian was mad to risk swimming in a storm. The undercurrents pulled him down, no matter how hard he tried to keep his head above water. The last thing he remembered was the flash of lightning before he lost consciousness.



Stay tuned...


Minas Tirith is under siege.

A ship flies the colours of the East India Trading Company. It lowers its anchor close to a beach with palm trees.

A red standard with a golden lion flies on the battlements of a fortress, next to the Templar cross.


Imad: (to Balian) Sibylla gave birth to a son almost two years ago. She claims he is yours.

Aragorn: A new devilry is rising in the East.

Jack stares at something, looking shocked.

Elizabeth holds the Dead Man’s Chest.


Balian, with a child perched on his hip, and Imad, are surrounded by Crusaders.

Andromache hefts a sword with a ruby in the hilt.

Ragetti looks sheepish while wearing Aragorn’s crown.

Pippin peers down the barrel of a pistol.


Balian points a sword at Legolas. He is wearing an alien malicious expression on his face. Behind him is a dark cloaked figure. Legolas looks anguished.

Guy bows to Dark Balian, glancing up in fear and loathing.

Imad stares at his blood-covered hands with an expression of shock.

Andromache comforts a dark haired toddler.

Cassandra stares into a palantir.

Legolas and Imad fight Dark Balian.


Aragorn faces a dark figure.

Guy prostrates himself before someone.

Jack looks grim.

Elizabeth presses her lips together and glares while pointing a pistol at someone.





A/N: And so ends the madness of the second instalment. Thanks to everyone who read. I hope you all enjoyed this second misadventure. I certainly enjoyed writing it. Hope to see you guys at the next misadventure!

Kiwi, thanks for sticking with this one as well. I was so sad when Norrington died in PotC III, and really had to put him in here. Yep, they're all going to go back to everyone't favourite place. Middle Earth, look out!
Telcontar Rulz

Last edited by Telcontar Rulz; April 7th, 2008 at 05:13 AM.
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Old April 6th, 2008, 07:18 AM
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KiwiGirl KiwiGirl is offline
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Great dialogue yet again. I loved some of Jack's comments - the leaving the devil a drink one was just perfect.

A great ending and I loved the way that you tied things up with Hector taking over from Will and with Jocelyn making her way to heaven.

A great story and I am looking forward to the next part of the adventure...

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Old April 6th, 2008, 06:26 PM
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nuit nuit is offline
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“You sound like my mother, Legolas,” Balian complained, but he allowed the elf to lead him below deck.

“But I think he’d be prettier than your mother,” called Jack. Legolas stopped.
heehheheheeh, that made me laugh!

Aragorn faces a dark figure.

Guy prostrates himself before someone.

Jack looks grim.

Elizabeth presses her lips together and glares while pointing a pistol at someone.
sounds enticing! I have been impressed with your attention to details and how you have obviously planned this whole escapade- not an easy undertaking thats for sure trying to keep all the characters themselves. Well done!

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Old April 7th, 2008, 07:00 AM
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Telcontar Rulz Telcontar Rulz is offline
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Thanks, Kiwi. Hector will be making some appearances in the next one too, even though he doesn't have a big part to play.

Nuit, I'm glad I made you laugh. My thinking about the next story is proof that my head is always in the clouds
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