The Tolling of the Bell
folder
Pirates of the Caribbean (All) › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
29
Views:
2,110
Reviews:
22
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Pirates of the Caribbean (All) › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
29
Views:
2,110
Reviews:
22
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own the Pirates of the Caribbean movie series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Chapter 5 - Numbing Chill
Author: Pilgrim
Title: Tolling of the Bell
Rating: NC-17 by the end possibly sooner depends on how the story progresses
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the PotC characters or movies (unfortunately); anything you recognize isn’t mine (god damn them to hell!) Before anyone asks yes, Oria is mine, who else could have thought up such a creature?
Feedback: Please! First time fan fiction writer and desperate for tips, tricks, advice, stuff me full of info please! I want to improve and take over the world with my genius mwhahaha! Lol, only kidding but feedback would be fantastic, send it to raukarwen_deomene@yahoo.com! VERY FRIENDLY PERSON WILL NOT KILL ANYONE FOR BEING POSITVE OR NEGATIVE! JUST TELL ME!
Chapter 5 – Numbing Chill
Jack glanced through the brawling crowd searching desperately for any sign of Oria. His eye instead caught Norrington’s. Expecting the man to come over and murder him outright Jack was more than a little startled when the Admiral looked pointedly back towards the wall of a tavern and sheathed his sword, a cruel smirk adorning his lips. Jack’s gaze followed the Admiral’s instinctively, his heart skipped a beat as his breath hitched painfully in his chest. Slashing at the nearest marine he made his way over to the wall as fast as possible in the packed courtyard, fearing what scene would greet his eyes. Few got in his way, the murderous glint staying many hands and swords as Jack made his way through the crowds post-haste.
He scrambled to the floor next to Oria, eyes locked onto the wound in her belly. “Tia Dalma. Take me to Tia Dalma,” she whispered desperately between stolen breaths as her eyes pleaded with him. Jack nodded dumbly; the voice was barely audible above the screams and cries surrounding them. Jack was still too dumbfounded for the words to transmit properly. Nothing was registering but the sight before his eyes. Gibbs and a couple of the more loyal members of the Pearl’s crew burst into the small area, cutlasses wielded threateningly at anyone who got too close to the Captain.
“Captain, there’s only more going to come, we need to get out of here and sharpish if we’ve any hope of surviving,” Gibbs shouted over the raucous. He knocked a marine away desperately only for him to be replaced with what felt like ten more of the blood thirsty blighters. Jack acknowledged the remark numbly, shaken back into the present by the pressing issue of the brawls surrounding them and the increasing potential for more damage to be done. Utilising great caution, Jack lifted Oria from the ground and began to follow the crew through the crowd. The marines aimed as much force as they could at the retreating party but the crew proved more than a match for the disorganised charge.
“Get this ship ready and get us out of here!” Jack bawled over the deck as he jogged onto the ship and headed straight for the cabin. Oria was as limp as a doll as he laid her on the bed, her eyes closed. He retreated with a heavy heart to ensure that the Pearl escaped the clutches of the HMS ships with as little damage as possible.
As Jack stepped up onto the helm deck his eyes rested on the burning silhouette of Tortuga. A lone figure stood on the beach, his hand on the hilt of his sword and eyes locked onto Jack’s. Jack glared at the man before turning his attention to the more pressing task of escaping the bay. Norrington would pay eventually; it was Jack’s next priority. He paused and glanced back, his mind whirring at some uncontrollable and distracting tangent. How in the world had Norrington known she could have been killed this time? How had he known to target her and that she would fall? The Admiral wouldn’t have walked away unless he had known that she could not return. Jack quickly shuttered the thoughts away as they neared the more pressing issue of the HMS blockade.
The Pearl fired all cannons angrily at the HMS ships but no cannon fire came in reply. The majority of their crews were on the island, killing and kidnapping as many pirates as they could lay their supposedly clean hands on. This left the HMS fleet as nothing more than several hulking shells of crafted wood and metal floating absently in the middle of the bay. “What do you want to do Captain? Sink them or leave them.” Gibbs stood next to him, casting an evaluative eye over the ships.
“Get us to Pelegosto, no stops, no pauses and no delays. I want the Pearl moving faster than she has ever before in her life. Haste, speed, don’t care what you call it just do it.” Jack demanded as he handed the helm over to Gibbs and turned back to the cabin.
The door slammed closed behind him as he stared at the bed dumbly. “Oria?” He whispered, his voice painfully loud even to his ears in the eerie silence. No movement answered him and for a second he thought her breath had stopped and his heart constricted in a deadly pain. He stepped forwards warily and waited silently with bated breath, praying that it wasn’t true. Slowly her chest rose and fell, shuddering with the effort of the small action demanded by her will. Jack released a sigh of relief that he hadn’t realised he had been holding.
“Jack.” Her eyes were still closed in an attempt at saving energy from sight and using it to fight off the steadily increasing chill. Jack sank onto the bed next to her, brushing several stray strands of hair from her face, swallowing nervously. She was deathly pale, whiter than snow, the golden sun glazed hue gone. “In chest, small chest.”
Jack frowned in confusion but decided to run with the tortured words. He knelt in front of his chest flicking the lid open hastily and rooting through his various belongings, mainly shirts, britches and the occasional weapon or belt. His fingers brushed the bottom of the chest but instead of being greeted with the rough wood that should have been there the tips of his fingers registered a smooth and polished surface. Grasping the edges he dragged a small rectangular chest free. Polished ebony wood greeted him, an intricate gild pattern swirling over it in contrast and a tiger in glittering gold in sharp relief against the charcoal colouring of the wood.
Jack slipped the lid open and stared dumbly at the De Monara dagger, the ebony handle interrupted only by the tiger figurine carved from tiger bone and inset into the handles wood. A faint sound came from the bed and he swiftly reappeared next to Oria, the chest in his hands. “Give Tia.” She swallowed convulsively and grimaced as the chill crept about her heart, tendrils of ice spearing through it.
“Oria?” Jack whispered desperately awaiting an answer. “Oria?” His voice rising slightly in growing panic as no response came and her chest no longer rose and fell in the comforting signs of life. Scrambling towards her the chest forgotten at the base of the bed, he pressed his fingers to her throat and searched for that all elusive heartbeat.
Nothing met his fingertips, silence echoed eerily about the room, reverberating in his ears as if a drum beat there. His own elevated heartbeat was pounding through his senses in a mocking fashion; he was alive it declared noisily, and he was alone. Slowly he sat back staring dumbly at the lifeless, pale form of Oria who was for the first time in her life still and silent.
A chilling numbness he could only attribute as akin to despair trilled through his body, he hadn’t felt like this since he had lost the Pearl and Oria to Barbossa. Now it racked his body with grief. Stiffly he rose from the bed and went over to the desk collapsing into the chair.
He felt small, as if the world was crushing him down into nothing more than a speck of dirt. Tugging a drawer open his trembling fingers gripped a bottle neck and tugged the cork free before hurriedly tipping a vast majority of the contents down his throat. The sharp burn was a welcome relief to the ice that had settled in his very bones and soul with the knowledge that nothing could be done.
No tears fell and no sob rose, just a cold numbness that threatened to consume him but was kept at bay by the torturing burn of the heated rum. Slowly his eyes trailed back to the prostrate form, a clamping of his heart almost choking him. Swiftly his eyes retreated, the sight too painful to watch for long.
:/
Jack jumped at the sound of fists hammering on the door and glanced down at the rum bottle; it was almost empty, another completely empty one greeting his gaze as he glanced up and winced at the light from the single candle. Putting the almost empty one aside he rose stiffly to answer the door, wondering absently how long he had been sat there in a catatonic state. Slowly he creaked the door open and Gibbs rain soaked face beamed in, the viciously angry tempest outside bouncing off the decks furiously.
“Just came to check on Miss Oria.” Gibbs shouted over the roll of thunder, the smile fading at Jack’s still stationary face. The Captain slowly opened the door further to admit the man with a half-hearted flap of his arm. Gibbs stumbled through as the ship lunged down a wave and he stared at the bed dumbly. Jack sliding the door back closed to keep the foul storm out. “Asleep?” Jack took a long swig of the rum, his eyes on the floor as he swayed with the ship.
Gibbs trudged forwards and stared as dumbly as Jack felt at the silent and stationary form. “Dead?” Gibbs whispered disbelievingly and glanced back at Jack. “She’s never dead. Jack, she’s a De Monara,” Gibbs stumbled towards him clasping the Captain’s shoulders tightly, “Oria’s not one to die, Jack. She can’t be dead. We’ve all seen the fight and strength in her! It’s not possible.” Jack met his gaze slowly, taking another swig of rum simultaneously. He brushed the man’s hands away and stumbled with the roll of the turbulent storm and the drink as he collapsed back onto his desk’s chair and sat there morosely. Gibbs glanced between the two silent figures in confusion, his mind not accepting the truth as much as Jacks’.
“Continue to Pelegosto as fast as is possible.” Jack slurred, his eyes no longer seeing anything in the real world but everything in his mind.
The angry glare she had first graced him with before their first duel, the battle of wills as he recovered from a fever and the teasing of the ‘tea cups of vengeance’ incident. The chill morning sunshine that had caressed her sleeping form on the first morning after she had taken to his bed combined with the sheer thrill of the night before fresh in his memory as he had watched her. Every morning and night then after that had solidified into his memory as clear as any picture. That one day when the sun had been setting in Tortuga and they had sat on the beach both imaging a future with the patter of tiny feet across the boards of the Pearl.
The surprise in her perfect eyes as she spotted him in the opposite cell to her in Port Royal after about 8 years forced apart. The desperate lie about Sara to make amends that fell apart mere weeks later and that had resulted in Sara’s untimely death. The look of despair and strength simultaneously in her eyes as Oria had handed herself back over to Davy Jones in exchange for a few more days for Jack to find the heart.
But, most importantly and most strongly, the truth and confession on the day of their release from Davy Jones contracts, “I love you.” The only words that had threatened to bring him to tears with relief and a swell in his chest. Now, the only words that tortured his soul and mind and refused to give him the relief or release he craved.
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
MANY, MANY THANKS TO MY REVIEWERS 'Lady Linwe' AND 'Michelle'! YAY, I AM HAPPY, I HAVE GOOD REVIEWS AND A 5 STAR RATING, AWESOME! I'M GLAD YOU'RE ENJOYING IT 'COS I'M REALLY LOVING WRITING IT! 'Lady Linwe' DON'T WORRY, KEEP READING! NOT ALL HOPE IS LOST!
MANY THANKS ALSO TO MY BETA, 'Grace'. THERE'LL BE LESS SILLY LITTLE MISTAKES NOW!
Title: Tolling of the Bell
Rating: NC-17 by the end possibly sooner depends on how the story progresses
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the PotC characters or movies (unfortunately); anything you recognize isn’t mine (god damn them to hell!) Before anyone asks yes, Oria is mine, who else could have thought up such a creature?
Feedback: Please! First time fan fiction writer and desperate for tips, tricks, advice, stuff me full of info please! I want to improve and take over the world with my genius mwhahaha! Lol, only kidding but feedback would be fantastic, send it to raukarwen_deomene@yahoo.com! VERY FRIENDLY PERSON WILL NOT KILL ANYONE FOR BEING POSITVE OR NEGATIVE! JUST TELL ME!
Chapter 5 – Numbing Chill
Jack glanced through the brawling crowd searching desperately for any sign of Oria. His eye instead caught Norrington’s. Expecting the man to come over and murder him outright Jack was more than a little startled when the Admiral looked pointedly back towards the wall of a tavern and sheathed his sword, a cruel smirk adorning his lips. Jack’s gaze followed the Admiral’s instinctively, his heart skipped a beat as his breath hitched painfully in his chest. Slashing at the nearest marine he made his way over to the wall as fast as possible in the packed courtyard, fearing what scene would greet his eyes. Few got in his way, the murderous glint staying many hands and swords as Jack made his way through the crowds post-haste.
He scrambled to the floor next to Oria, eyes locked onto the wound in her belly. “Tia Dalma. Take me to Tia Dalma,” she whispered desperately between stolen breaths as her eyes pleaded with him. Jack nodded dumbly; the voice was barely audible above the screams and cries surrounding them. Jack was still too dumbfounded for the words to transmit properly. Nothing was registering but the sight before his eyes. Gibbs and a couple of the more loyal members of the Pearl’s crew burst into the small area, cutlasses wielded threateningly at anyone who got too close to the Captain.
“Captain, there’s only more going to come, we need to get out of here and sharpish if we’ve any hope of surviving,” Gibbs shouted over the raucous. He knocked a marine away desperately only for him to be replaced with what felt like ten more of the blood thirsty blighters. Jack acknowledged the remark numbly, shaken back into the present by the pressing issue of the brawls surrounding them and the increasing potential for more damage to be done. Utilising great caution, Jack lifted Oria from the ground and began to follow the crew through the crowd. The marines aimed as much force as they could at the retreating party but the crew proved more than a match for the disorganised charge.
“Get this ship ready and get us out of here!” Jack bawled over the deck as he jogged onto the ship and headed straight for the cabin. Oria was as limp as a doll as he laid her on the bed, her eyes closed. He retreated with a heavy heart to ensure that the Pearl escaped the clutches of the HMS ships with as little damage as possible.
As Jack stepped up onto the helm deck his eyes rested on the burning silhouette of Tortuga. A lone figure stood on the beach, his hand on the hilt of his sword and eyes locked onto Jack’s. Jack glared at the man before turning his attention to the more pressing task of escaping the bay. Norrington would pay eventually; it was Jack’s next priority. He paused and glanced back, his mind whirring at some uncontrollable and distracting tangent. How in the world had Norrington known she could have been killed this time? How had he known to target her and that she would fall? The Admiral wouldn’t have walked away unless he had known that she could not return. Jack quickly shuttered the thoughts away as they neared the more pressing issue of the HMS blockade.
The Pearl fired all cannons angrily at the HMS ships but no cannon fire came in reply. The majority of their crews were on the island, killing and kidnapping as many pirates as they could lay their supposedly clean hands on. This left the HMS fleet as nothing more than several hulking shells of crafted wood and metal floating absently in the middle of the bay. “What do you want to do Captain? Sink them or leave them.” Gibbs stood next to him, casting an evaluative eye over the ships.
“Get us to Pelegosto, no stops, no pauses and no delays. I want the Pearl moving faster than she has ever before in her life. Haste, speed, don’t care what you call it just do it.” Jack demanded as he handed the helm over to Gibbs and turned back to the cabin.
The door slammed closed behind him as he stared at the bed dumbly. “Oria?” He whispered, his voice painfully loud even to his ears in the eerie silence. No movement answered him and for a second he thought her breath had stopped and his heart constricted in a deadly pain. He stepped forwards warily and waited silently with bated breath, praying that it wasn’t true. Slowly her chest rose and fell, shuddering with the effort of the small action demanded by her will. Jack released a sigh of relief that he hadn’t realised he had been holding.
“Jack.” Her eyes were still closed in an attempt at saving energy from sight and using it to fight off the steadily increasing chill. Jack sank onto the bed next to her, brushing several stray strands of hair from her face, swallowing nervously. She was deathly pale, whiter than snow, the golden sun glazed hue gone. “In chest, small chest.”
Jack frowned in confusion but decided to run with the tortured words. He knelt in front of his chest flicking the lid open hastily and rooting through his various belongings, mainly shirts, britches and the occasional weapon or belt. His fingers brushed the bottom of the chest but instead of being greeted with the rough wood that should have been there the tips of his fingers registered a smooth and polished surface. Grasping the edges he dragged a small rectangular chest free. Polished ebony wood greeted him, an intricate gild pattern swirling over it in contrast and a tiger in glittering gold in sharp relief against the charcoal colouring of the wood.
Jack slipped the lid open and stared dumbly at the De Monara dagger, the ebony handle interrupted only by the tiger figurine carved from tiger bone and inset into the handles wood. A faint sound came from the bed and he swiftly reappeared next to Oria, the chest in his hands. “Give Tia.” She swallowed convulsively and grimaced as the chill crept about her heart, tendrils of ice spearing through it.
“Oria?” Jack whispered desperately awaiting an answer. “Oria?” His voice rising slightly in growing panic as no response came and her chest no longer rose and fell in the comforting signs of life. Scrambling towards her the chest forgotten at the base of the bed, he pressed his fingers to her throat and searched for that all elusive heartbeat.
Nothing met his fingertips, silence echoed eerily about the room, reverberating in his ears as if a drum beat there. His own elevated heartbeat was pounding through his senses in a mocking fashion; he was alive it declared noisily, and he was alone. Slowly he sat back staring dumbly at the lifeless, pale form of Oria who was for the first time in her life still and silent.
A chilling numbness he could only attribute as akin to despair trilled through his body, he hadn’t felt like this since he had lost the Pearl and Oria to Barbossa. Now it racked his body with grief. Stiffly he rose from the bed and went over to the desk collapsing into the chair.
He felt small, as if the world was crushing him down into nothing more than a speck of dirt. Tugging a drawer open his trembling fingers gripped a bottle neck and tugged the cork free before hurriedly tipping a vast majority of the contents down his throat. The sharp burn was a welcome relief to the ice that had settled in his very bones and soul with the knowledge that nothing could be done.
No tears fell and no sob rose, just a cold numbness that threatened to consume him but was kept at bay by the torturing burn of the heated rum. Slowly his eyes trailed back to the prostrate form, a clamping of his heart almost choking him. Swiftly his eyes retreated, the sight too painful to watch for long.
Jack jumped at the sound of fists hammering on the door and glanced down at the rum bottle; it was almost empty, another completely empty one greeting his gaze as he glanced up and winced at the light from the single candle. Putting the almost empty one aside he rose stiffly to answer the door, wondering absently how long he had been sat there in a catatonic state. Slowly he creaked the door open and Gibbs rain soaked face beamed in, the viciously angry tempest outside bouncing off the decks furiously.
“Just came to check on Miss Oria.” Gibbs shouted over the roll of thunder, the smile fading at Jack’s still stationary face. The Captain slowly opened the door further to admit the man with a half-hearted flap of his arm. Gibbs stumbled through as the ship lunged down a wave and he stared at the bed dumbly. Jack sliding the door back closed to keep the foul storm out. “Asleep?” Jack took a long swig of the rum, his eyes on the floor as he swayed with the ship.
Gibbs trudged forwards and stared as dumbly as Jack felt at the silent and stationary form. “Dead?” Gibbs whispered disbelievingly and glanced back at Jack. “She’s never dead. Jack, she’s a De Monara,” Gibbs stumbled towards him clasping the Captain’s shoulders tightly, “Oria’s not one to die, Jack. She can’t be dead. We’ve all seen the fight and strength in her! It’s not possible.” Jack met his gaze slowly, taking another swig of rum simultaneously. He brushed the man’s hands away and stumbled with the roll of the turbulent storm and the drink as he collapsed back onto his desk’s chair and sat there morosely. Gibbs glanced between the two silent figures in confusion, his mind not accepting the truth as much as Jacks’.
“Continue to Pelegosto as fast as is possible.” Jack slurred, his eyes no longer seeing anything in the real world but everything in his mind.
The angry glare she had first graced him with before their first duel, the battle of wills as he recovered from a fever and the teasing of the ‘tea cups of vengeance’ incident. The chill morning sunshine that had caressed her sleeping form on the first morning after she had taken to his bed combined with the sheer thrill of the night before fresh in his memory as he had watched her. Every morning and night then after that had solidified into his memory as clear as any picture. That one day when the sun had been setting in Tortuga and they had sat on the beach both imaging a future with the patter of tiny feet across the boards of the Pearl.
The surprise in her perfect eyes as she spotted him in the opposite cell to her in Port Royal after about 8 years forced apart. The desperate lie about Sara to make amends that fell apart mere weeks later and that had resulted in Sara’s untimely death. The look of despair and strength simultaneously in her eyes as Oria had handed herself back over to Davy Jones in exchange for a few more days for Jack to find the heart.
But, most importantly and most strongly, the truth and confession on the day of their release from Davy Jones contracts, “I love you.” The only words that had threatened to bring him to tears with relief and a swell in his chest. Now, the only words that tortured his soul and mind and refused to give him the relief or release he craved.
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
MANY, MANY THANKS TO MY REVIEWERS 'Lady Linwe' AND 'Michelle'! YAY, I AM HAPPY, I HAVE GOOD REVIEWS AND A 5 STAR RATING, AWESOME! I'M GLAD YOU'RE ENJOYING IT 'COS I'M REALLY LOVING WRITING IT! 'Lady Linwe' DON'T WORRY, KEEP READING! NOT ALL HOPE IS LOST!
MANY THANKS ALSO TO MY BETA, 'Grace'. THERE'LL BE LESS SILLY LITTLE MISTAKES NOW!