AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hey readers! Chapter 4 is finally here! I'm sorry it took so long. I got sidetracked watching Game of Thrones. I finally decided to start watching it, and I'm up to season five. IT IS SO GREAT!!! Anyway, this chapter, we get to see Enna hold her own a bit, and she meets up with some old members of Jack's crew. :) We also meet a friend of Enna's, who has given her every tattoo she has. Anyway, i tried for 3000 words, and went a bit overboard. Lol but its all for you guys! PLEASE continue to vote and comment! It encourages me to keep on writing for you guys, and the more encouraged I am, the faster i get more chappies done! YAY!!! XD ENJOY!!! this chapter is dedicated to xd3m0nxgurlx thanks for the votes, comments, and hugs!
***************************************************************************************
Enna's POV
I grip the wooden table I lay on, struggling not to wiggle too much as the needle pierces my skin over and over again. The sound of the drill makes me grind my teeth in irritation. "This is worse than I remember," I grind out over the sound of the drill. Sephora chuckles, and I get a slight reprieve from the needle piercing my back.
"You're the one who asked for it, missy. Besides, this one is about twenty times the size of your other ones." The drill starts up again, and I brace for the ink-coated needle. "Does your dad know what this tattoo is?"
"No. I wanted it to be a surprise. You don't think he'll be mad, do you?" I'm suddenly worried. Usually, I have to get my father's okay on a new tattoo.
"Are you kidding? He'll be thrilled that you're wanting to visibly connect yourself to him this way, with his Sparrow sigil." She pauses briefly. "He could be a little less thrilled about the fact that it's in prime tramp stamp location, but..." I knee her in the side with the knee closest to her and she laughs. "This makes your third, now?"
"Yeah. I've got the anchor on my right ankle and the ship on my upper left inner elbow. Now this one. I want to get another behind my right ear, but I'm not sure what of yet." The needle on the tattoo gun keeps piercing my lower back. "Are you almost done? I've been on this table for almost two hours." Sephora laughs, and keeps spearing me, but answers.
"Almost done, Enna. Just touching up now. You should be out of here in half an hour and the most." I nod my head, and bring my hands up to rest my chin on them. "So what do you think your dad's surprise is going to be?"
"Not sure. He seemed really excited, whatever it is. I'm sure I'll like it," I say with a shrug.
"I know he's sad you're leaving." I shift uncomfortably. I didn't need anything else reminding me on that score. I have felt so guilty ever since that day I first told him I wanted something different. "But don't feel guilty, Enna. This is what your heart is urging you to do, so do it. One day, your heart will bring you back, if only to see us for a while. You should never be made to feel guilty for following your heart. No matter the circumstances." I feel her hand rest gently on my shoulder, and I smile at her, though she can't see it, as she is behind me to an extent. "So what do you plan to do?"
"I'm not sure. Follow wherever life takes me. Go with the flow, and follow the wind, that sort of thing. You know me, Seph."
"I know you're used to doing whatever your father does. You haven't really been on your own before, Enn. You lived with your mom until she died, then your dad came and took you aboard his ship. And you've been on that same ship for eight years."
"I know. But I can't not do this, Seph. And my father won't stay on land for longer than is necessary. You know that. Besides, I'm sure I won't be alone for long once I reach the Isle of the Lost."
"But what is on the Isle that you want, Enn?"
"I'm not sure. All I know is that my heart, and the compass are leading me there. Whether it's a tangible object, a friendship, a fight, or a new life. Whatever it is, it will be the adventure of a lifetime. I'm sure of that much." The whirring of the tattoo gun stops, and Sephora sets the gun down on a barrel beside her.
"There. All done. Now hold still while I tape the gauze to it. Don't want to get this big one infected, that's as sure as the sun rising in the east." I lay still, and hear the sound of tape ripping from the roll, then feel the soft gauze settle on my tender skin, then Sephora's fingers press the tape down over the gauze, attaching the sticky side to my skin. "Alright. All done." I sit up and hop off the table, pulling a handful of coins from one of the pouches hanging from my belt. She takes the coins, and puts them into a box behind a counter. "Now, come here and give me a hug, girl." She extends her arms towards me, and I smile and walk into her embrace, wrapping my arms around her. "I'm gonna miss you, Enn."
"And I, you, Seph." I pull away from her and look at my friend, burning her red curls and green eyes and freckled cheeks made rosy with blush into my memory. "I promise I'll come to you when I decide when I want another tattoo. I wouldn't trust anyone else to stab a needle into my skin the way you do." I smile cheekily.
"Ah, stop it. You'll make me cry and ruin my makeup. But I'll hold you to it." We smile at each other for a moment in silence. "Oh!" she shrieks suddenly. "I almost forgot! I have something for you. Come on." She grabs me by the wrist and leads me toward the back of the tattoo parlor, to where she stays. She rummages through a chest for a moment, and emerges with a bag. She pours the contents onto the bed, spreading them out for me to look at. Two dresses, a bit more fine than I would ever wear on a ship. One is a soft lavender silk with a bit of white lace, laid so finely it looks almost like spiders wove a flower pattern onto the fabric. The other is a stunning sea blue, with flowers of dusky pink and soft orange, like sunset. This one is of a different style, and would cut off at my knees, as opposed to sweeping the floor. There are no sleeves, and the neck is high cut. A narrow white belt is looped around the midsection. There is also a pair of white shoes that resemble slippers, but they are hard like boots. Sephora calls them 'flats' and says that a lot of girls in Auradon wear them. I wrinkle my nose at the dainty pair of shoes. There is a small bag, and inside it is an assortmant of makeup. Concealer, eyeshadow in every color of the rainbow, blush, lipstick, mascara, eyeliner, and a few other bits and pieces. I look at Sephora questionably. "What? You never know when you may need it." I put all the makeup back into its bag, and continue looking at the items. There are a few bottles of fragrance oil, and shampoo, conditioner, body soap, and some female items. My friend holds up a piece of clothing. At least I think that's what it is. It has two straps, and two padded triangular pieces connected to a length of fabric. The triangles and the length of fabric form a circle. "It's like a corset, in a way. It's called a bra. The straps go over your shoulders..." She demonstrated the fit by holding the garment up to my body. "And these..." I gasp as she presses the triangles over my breasts, and blush a little. "...go over these." She laughs at my expression, and packs away the items back into the bag, and helps me pull the straps over my shoulders.
"Thank you, Seph. I don't know what I'll do without you." I smile gently at her, and feel tears prickling my eyes.
"You'll figure it out. You always do. You're a smart girl, with an intelligent mind." She pulls me into a hug. "You are a Sparrow, after all." She pulls away, and walks me out to the front door. We say our goodbyes, and I go on my way into the marketplace. Father told me he would be in a pub called The Tortoise Shell. I walk down the street, crowded with stalls and people buying wares. There is an apple seller, a ribbon seller, a mirror seller, a set of triplets selling quills, inkwells, and journals. A woman selling rouge and lipstick, another selling feathers and veils for hair, and one selling pie by the slice. Meat pie, apple pie, berry pie, cream pie, and so many others. Just beyond the pie lady, I can see a tortoise shell hanging above a door with the words The Tortoise Shell Pub painted on it in gold paint. A few drunkards stumble out as I make my way to the door, and when I try to get past them into the estabishment, a bottle of liquid flies through the glass window, effectively shattering both the window and bottle. I shake my head and go inside, scanning the crowd for my Father. I spy him toward the back, sitting at a table with some other men. I recognize one of them as Captain Teague, my grandfather. Sitting by Jack, I can easily see the family resemblance. From the black-rimmed eyes, to the long black dreads they both sport for hair. The two men are laughing about something, along with the rest of the men at the table. There are three others. One has a sandy tint to his hair, and is rather scrawny. The other two both have gray hair. One's hair is scraggly and sparse, and a bit longer in length opposed to the other's. His hair is thicker, but a bit shorter. Both are fairly heavyset, but with muscle, and the one with the scraggly hair appears a bit shorter. I make my way through the bustle, steering clear of waitresses and drunks alike, not wanting to be soaked in either beer or vomit.
"Ay, lassie. What's a pret'y thing like you doin' all alone in a place like 'is?" I hear someone hiss into my hear from right behind me. I feel a grimy hand gripping my wrist, and I can smell the alcohol on his breath from his proximity. He roughly jerks me around to face him. His face is sweaty, and his eyes show me that he has had more than his fill of alcohol. Aside from being obviously very drunk, he is somewhat attractive, with black hair tied back into a ponytail, and sea green (bloodshot) eyes. I feel his arm snake around my waist and tug me closer to him. I put a hand up on his chest, pushing away. "Ah, don't be 'fraid, little one. I promise, I'm a lot more gentle than these dogs." I put my other hand on the hilt of my dagger, ready to draw it if this bastard doesn't bugger off.
"I'm warning you, scum. I'm not like any other girl in here. So you best take your filthy hands off me before I take them off your wrists," I say to him, my voice thick with venom, my eyes just as dangerous. He chuckles, then continues his assault.
"Aye, lass. You're not like any other girl here. For starters, none would dare resist me, and for seconds, not one girl has ever threatened me and meant it." He leans down and starts to kiss my neck, not taking the hint. He's too busy trying to grind his manhood against me that he doesn't think that I might just be serious. I swiftly bring my knee up to say hello to his groin, rather confrontationally. He groans, but doesn't move away, and I feel him bite down hard, so hard that I whimper in pain, and feel the cold metal of a knife pressing unforgivingly against the back of my neck. I laugh internally at his move, and discreetly draw my own dagger. I pretend to cooperate with him for a moment, becoming docile, and perhaps a little swooney. He feels the difference in my body language and I can feel the stubble on his chin scratch my skin as he smiles against my neck. "That's better, now." I use my dagger-free hand to pull the belt-line of his pants away from his body a bit, and hear him moan in my ear. "A little eager, there, kitten?" I smile and slowly move my dagger into his trousers, pressing the blade up against his manhood, and he instantly freezes.
"That's better," I say, mockingly. "Now let go of me." He does so, leaning away from me, and holding up his hands. "Drop the dagger," I say, nodding at the weapon. I hear the metallic clang as the weapon hits the floor. "Good." I press the tip of my own weapon down, and the man cringes and tries to move away. "Ah, ah, ah. No moving."
"I'm sorry, lass. Just let me go." I smile at the fear I catch in his voice.
"You think I'm just going to let you walk away without a scratch, when you threatened me? Oh, I don't think so." He stays still, and I chuckle. "You know what's funny? You men think all girls are weak, but you have something that is so easily lost, and so easy to threaten." I press the dagger down even more, and his breathing increases. "You also think we are all so easily overpowered and conquered. You think we're waiting for a pretty man to come and take us. But guess what? Most girls are disgusted by the likes of you. Now, my dagger is dangerously close to a precious gift of yours, and I'm guessing you would hate to be parted from it. So if you want to live out the rest of your days with it attached to your body, I suggest you not throw your advances on anyone unless you know for a fact they want you to." All eyes in the pub are on us, and the room is deathly silent. Everyone can hear what I'm saying. "Do you understand, lad?" I practically spit at him. He nods his head eagerly. "Good. Now I'm going to need your name, in case I need to track you down and teach you a lesson." He gulps as I press my dagger into him. This time, I feel the blade break skin.
"Nedd Harvey." I narrow my eyes at him. He took a little too long before answering me.
"See, now that sounds like a made-up name. Two first names? I don't think that's your real name, lad." I push my blade down more. When he doesn't answer me, I raise my voice to address the crowd, now actively interested in the exchange. "Anyone here know this lad's name?" An 'aye' sounds from behind the bar. "His name is...?" Silence from the bar. I sigh. "I've got coin. His true name, barman?"
"Joriah Beaumont, lass," the barman says, once I mention the gold. "He comes in here once a week at least."
"Joriah Beaumont, is it? Not a very common name. Easily distinguishable. That means it will be easy to find you if I ever hear that you've pushed youself onto an unwilling person." Joriah winces at the pain I'm causing in his nether region. "Good." I remove my dagger from his trousers, but don't release him just yet. "Now, for a little something to remember me by." I grasp his arm, and use the tip of my dagger to carve 'ES' into his bicep. Seven quick, straight scratches make up the two letters. "There. You are now free to go on your way, Joriah Beaumont." I release my hold on his trousers, and he backs away from me, settling into a chair at the bar, no doubt to order another round of drinks to ease both his pain and humiliation. I wipe the droplets of blood from my dagger onto the rag hanging from my belt, adding to the bloostains already there, then put it back into its sheath. A waitress offers me a mug of beer, and I gulp the whole thing down before my mind can talk me out of it, thrusting it back at her when I'm done. "If he gives any problems to any girls, send me a pigeon. Enna Sparrow." The girl nods her acknowledgement, and scurries back to the kitchen. I look over the crowd, of which most of the people are still looking at me. "Well, go back to your drinks, the lot of you!" The silence disperses, and the air is filled with talk and laughter and cups clanging against each other. I continue making my way towards my father's table. As I near it, he raises his mug in my direction.
"There she is! The Little Sparrow! So what did that poor lad do to earn a dagger in his pants, hey?" The men at the table laugh and look at me expectantly.
"He was a little too familiar and when I objected, he put a dagger to the back of my neck," I explain. My father and grandfather nod.
"Ah, that's my girl." My father smiles warmly at me. "I've been telling the men here about your most recent adventures."
"I still can't believe that my granddaughter took on Haivee and killed the beast. And as if that wasn't enough, she pierced her ear with the fangs!" Captain Teague speaks up in shock and awe.
"Aye. That beast was no match for Enna Sparrow," I say, pulling my hair back from my ear so the men can see my trophy. "Hi, granddad." I go around the table to hug him. He smells just like I remember. Cigar smoke, leather, and salt. He playfully scratches his whiskers against my cheek and tickles me on my ribcage, making me squirm and giggle uncontrollably. My high-pitched giggle contrasts with his deep, booming laugh, and as I manage to pull away from the tickle monster, I recognize the other faces around the table. "Joshamee Gibbs," I say, acknowledging the man with thick gray hair. I move to give him a half-hug.
"How goes it, girl?" he asks, hugging me back. "My, you've grown. I remember last time I saw, you were just a wee miniature thing." He draws out his R's, so much it's hard to imagine him as anything other than a pirate. "Now, you're a proper grown lass. You're how old, now?"
"Seventeen. Eighteen in three months." The old man nods silently. "Spaghetti," I say with a laugh to the next man around the table. The scrawny, sandy-haired man looks at me with his one good eye, and his wooden one looks into another direction.
"Enna, darlin'. Still gettin' my name wrong, eh?" His tone is playful. When I was younger, I always called him Spaghetti, to help me remember his name, Ragetti. He reminded me of the skinny noodly dish, since he was tall and skinny. So I called him Spaghetti.
"I'm just teasing, Ragetti." I smile warmly at him, and use my hand to scruff up his hair like a dog. "Pintel. I think you had more hair the last I saw you," I tease the next man around. Pintel subconsiously raises a hand to his balding head.
"Hey now, poppet. That's no way to talk to a man," he says, pretending to be seriously wounded by my light taunt.
"Just be glad I'm not talking to you the way I spoke to Joriah Beaumont." All the men laugh again at the situation I 'talked' myself out of.
"Don't foget who taught you the language of the blade. One of the best methods of communication, I think." Pintel spins his own dagger in his fingers before embedding the tip of the blade into the wooden tabletop.
"Definitely." I eye the blade in the table. "Though you need to sharpen your weapon, Pintel. Won't be doing much besides cutting apples with that." He looks at me quizically, and I pick up the dagger, slamming the blade into my hand harshly. Everyone gasps collectively, but they breathe out sigh of relief when I reveal my unsliced palm. There is another person sitting between my father and Pintel who I did not see before, because his head is only just barely above the tabletop. "Marty? I didn't even see you there!" I exclaim, smiling. I make my way around Pintel, and kneel down to hug the small man.
"Little Enna isn't so little anymore, is she?" he says, giving me a hug in return. Out of all the crewmates my father introduced me to, Marty was my favorite. He knew how it felt to be underestimated. He was a dwarf, so many people didn't take him seriously. And I was a little girl, so people just looked past me, assuming I wasn't much of a threat. But each of us was able to prove our own abilities. He was somewhat of a kindred spirit.
"But Marty still is," I joke. His smile diasppears.
"You better watch it, girl. I like you, but there's only so much I let you off the hook for," he warns. We stare at each other in a moment of tense silence, then our stern faces break back into grins. I pull an extra chair up between Marty and my father, and sit down, waving over a waitress. One comes over carrying a tray with several mugs of rum, and she passes one to each of us. We don't drink from them just yet. I feel the eyes of everyone around the table on me. I suspect that my father has given them a vague idea of why we made port. With a deep breath, I address the table.
"So, I've made the decision to begin my own adventure. By myself." Everyone is silent in anticipation of my announcement. "I'm going to the Isle of the Lost. I don't know what I hope to find there, or do, but this is what my heart is telling me to do." I drum my fingers against my mug uncomfortably. I can feel all the eyes around the table on me, and it's making me uneasy. I look up at the sound of a chair scraping against the floor to see Master Gibbs standing, holding out his mug to the center of the table.
"To Miss Enna's new adventure," he says, smiling proudly. My father is the first to rise and toast in response, then everybody else collectively rises and puts their mugs forward. The mugs are thrust together, sloshing rum over the top of the table. I look up at the six proud, smiling faces, and I feel an overwhelming sense of love for my family and friends. I stand and push my own mug into the middle, and we all shout "Cheers!" and begin gulping our drinks down. My father finishes first, followed by my granddad, myself, Gibbs, Pintel, Marty, and Ragetti. We all sit back down.
"So you're going there by yourself?" Ragetti asks worriedly.
"Yeah," I answer. "I'll be fine, though. Sure it's an island full of villains and their kids, but how bad can they be? I fought off a panther and killed it. I think I can hold my own around some mad kids."
"What are you going to do there?" Pintel asks.
"I'm not sure. Just go with the flow and that sort of thing. Whatever happens will happen, and I'll deal with anything accordingly."
"How are you gonna get there?" Marty asks.
"I guess my dad can drop me off at one of the piers or something." I look at my dad, whose smile is growing. He starts shaking his head in disagreement.
"I most certainly will not," he proclaims. I scrunch my eyebrows in confusion, as does everyone around the table.
"What? You're gonna make your only daughter swim all the way to the Isle?" Gibbs asks angrily.
"Don't get your britches all tied up, Gibbs. Enna won't have to swim anywhere," Captain Teague speaks up. Everyone but Jack and Captain Teague are in utter confusion, including myself. My father and granddad both stand, and Captain Teague puts some money on the table for the bill. "If all of you would follow us. Enna?" I step towards him, and he takes my red sash off of my hat and ties it around my head, covering my eyes.
"I can't see a bloody thing!" I complain.
"That's the idea, sweetie," he says with a laugh. He puts his rough hands over my shoulders to guide me. I may not be able to see through the red scarf, but I can feel that we are moving towards the door of the pub. By the difference in temperature, I can feel that we have gotten outside. Granddad spins me around a few times, making me dizzy, and disoriented. We begin walking again, and since I have my eyes covered, I am paying more attention to smells, sounds, and feelings. We are walking past a bakery, and I can smell freshly baked bread. My boots kick stray pebbles from the cobblestone road. I can hear cart wheels squeaking and rumbling against the road, and the smell of dirt and carrots fills the air. We continue walking, and turn a corner. I hear seagulls crying, and smell raw fish. A salty wind blows through my hair. We are near the docks, and there's a fish stall, apparently. We stop, and My granddad takes off the scarf. As I suspected, we are standing on the docks, and Everyone besides my granddad is blocking something from view.
"Enna, your father and I both pulled together from our hoard and used the money to buy you this." The men step aside, revealing a small boat. It's not a ship, but a dinghy. It's larger than most, though, but I should have no trouble sailing it on my own. Tears prickle my eyes and a grin stretches across my face. I rush down the dock and climb into my new boat. I run my hand over the white fabric of the sail, and the wood of the railing. There is a small cabin, with a single cot, and some storage areas. There is more storage under the deck through a trapdoor.
"You'll have to come up with a name for her," my Father says from the dock. I rack my mind for a moment, then come up with the perfect name.
"Sparrow's Nest," I say, smiling. At this point, I've been smiling so much my cheeks hurt. Marty brings me a small can of white paint and a brush. Using my dagger, I pop the top off, and dip the bristles of the brush into the thick, white liquid. I climb out of the boat onto the deck, and crouch down to paint the name onto the side of the boat. I paint it neatly, with large, swooping letters that will be easily distinguishable from a distance. I carefully sweep up any drips with the brush before closing the paint can and putting it into my new boat. I rinse the brush off in the seawater. I toss the brush into the boat as well, and stand, running to my father and granddad, crashing into them with a hug. They wrap their arms around me, and we stay like that, just lost in the family embrace. I feel the others join into the hug. "Thank you," I say to no one in particular, but I squeeze my father and granddad more tightly. After all, this may be the last time I see them for a while.