FicWad

Arcil Scherwiz was a pirate. It was written all over him, from his weatherbeaten and scarred face down to his heavy leather boots, and detailed in his tattered clothing, finally punctuated by the variety of cutlasses and knives thrust in his belt. At a single glance, anyone could tell that this was a rogue who looked as though he could take a life as easily as he might take a breath. Yet there was something about him that jarred with the impression -- perhaps it was in his slumped shoulders, or in his sad stare out to the iron-grey sea. A pirate he was, but one with a deep trouble in his heart.

A scarred, calloused hand reached into a vest pocket and withdrew a small whalebone carving of a little boy. It was masterfully created: detailed to the buckle on his belt. But its most striking feature was the boy's face. It was happy, joyous, full of life. He beamed a gap-toothed smile up at Arcil -- loving, eager, plunging himself into life next to his pirate father. Arcil kissed the little carving and tucked it back into its pocket. "Denley... oh, Denley, I wish yeh were still 'ere," the man murmured, looking up at the blanket of clouds that covered the sky. Two years. Two years ago to the day that he had lost his boy, Denley, lost him to the raging sea, and it still pained him like a lance in his heart. A treasure more precious than any gold or jewels... my boy, my Denley.

He shook his head, staring at the gravel as he walked down the beach. Nothing had been the same after that. The sea no longer seemed to call to him as it once did, neither gold nor silver shone as bright as they once had; the excitement of sea battles and the exhiliration of seeing another vessel haul its colors down had all lost their splendor. He had not set foot on the deck of his old ship for six months after losing Denley. Now, it had been three since his last voyage. The Star Sapphire had sailed away without him. None of his old mates could persuade him to go with them.

It was gone.

The question of what he would do with himself was one that he dodged. Brandy usually turned a blind eye to his unpaid drinking. She had plenty of other crews in and could ignore the one grieving man who sat for hours drinking ale after ale after ale. Brandy understood, even if she didn't like it. They didn't talk much, not anymore. Denley's death hadn't been any easier on Brandy than it had on Arcil, but she had been able to pick herself up after it... maybe because she hadn't spent as much time with the boy as Arcil had. Shoulda lissened t'her. Shouldn'ta taken 'im with me so much. Maybe then...

Maybe. If only. What if. It didn't seem like he could ever get away from it, could he? Two years was such a long time, and still...

"Hello?"

Arcil stopped in his tracks, looking around wildly. A voice!

"Jenica?!"

A child, a young one... in the driftwood. Something, some longboat from a ship had beached on the shore. Arcil ran towards it as the child shouted for "Jenica" again. His heart hammered. What if, what if... He skidded to a halt, shoving aside the dark, twisted branches and dropping to his knees next to the battered little boat. With shaking hands, he reached for the white canvas sheet covering a moving lump and pulled it off.

It was a little girl that stared up at him with striking green eyes, pushing bright violet hair out of her smudged face. She stood up, wearing a yellow dress that must have been very pretty. Now, it was torn and battered by the sea. She stared at Arcil with a clenched jaw, as though she was trying to stop herself from crying.

"Where did yeh come from?" Arcil asked, bemused, curious.

"You're not Jenica."

The pirate grinned and shook his head. "Me name's Arcil. Wha's yers, lass?"

"Farfifa." The little girl glared at the bottom of the boot. "Farfa," she said, stomping a foot. "Ff, ff. Farifa."

"Righ', well," said Arcil, realizing that she couldn't pronounce it properly. "Why don' yeh come with me?"

'Farifa' looked at him, bit her lip, nodded. Grinning, Arcil stuck his hand out and helped her out of the boat.

Maybe.