It's an Odd Coincidence

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Phoebe Turner: Thanks. I'm glad you did.

Miss: I'm glad you thought so. It's a relief to write something about slightly more mundane things sometimes.

Chapter 56: Eternity

Night had fallen, but in the great hall, where the celebrations were still going strong, it was as bright as day. Well, almost. An inordinate number of lanterns had been lit. The Gondorians were more practical than elves when it came to lighting, because their lanterns looked more like light bulbs than mini glass ships with crew members so lifelike that one could expect them to move.

Great trestle tables had been set out, and they were piled high with food. One table in particular had been dedicated to alcoholic drinks. Usually, that would have attracted Logan the way magnets attracted iron dust, but not this night. He was too busy searching for someone to attempt to get drunk —not that he ever succeeded in doing so. There were so many people in the great hall. He was starting to become overwhelmed by the cacophony of smells. Some people just didn't know that less was more when it came to perfume.

"Are you searching for someone, milord?" asked the voice he'd been wanting to hear for months. He whipped around and if that constricting tunic hadn't reminded him that this was a very formal situation, he would have swept her into his arms.

"Yeah, but she found me first," he said, unable to stop grinning like an idiot. She was as beautiful as he remembered her to be, and despite her formal words and tone, her eyes were sparkling with unspoken delight. "God, I missed you."

"I missed you too," she said searching his face, but she soon looked down, no doubt out of habit. "I trust that you are well, milord?"

"I am now," said Logan. This was awkward. He wanted nothing more than to kiss her, but people were watching. Public displays of affection were probably considered uncivilized in Middle Earth. Aragorn hadn't even kissed his bride yet! No one would be amused if Logan went ahead and kissed a woman who wasn't even his fiancée yet. "Man, I was always thinking I'd be the one to go and get you, but you beat me to it." She blushed, making her seem a lot younger than her one hundred and fifty years. Scrap that, she always looked a lot younger than her one hundred and fifty years.

"You do not think I was too bold in coming here when we are not even...?" her voice trailed off.

"What...no, no!" Logan took her hands in both of his. There were some raised eyebrows, but he ignored them. This was in public, dammit, and they were only holding hands, not putting their tongues down each others' throats. It wasn't as if there was anything promiscuous about some contact. Sidhien let him, although she looked a little nervous, whether it was about the hands thing or about something else, he could not tell. He only knew that it had something to do with him. He really was doing a wonderful job. "You...you know I'm not good with words, right?"

This made her smile. She looked up at him with shining eyes. "Yes, Logan. I know," she said.

"So...I think I'm gonna do this all wrong, but I'm just gonna say it anyway because I really can't keep it in any longer." He took a deep breath. This was it. "I love you, Sidhien. I can't stop thinkin' about you. I know I have problems, many problems. I can't stop insulting people. I can't even remember anything other than the past twenty years or so of my life even if I've lived a lot longer than that. Trouble's always on my tail and I can never outrun it. But the truth is, I really really love you, and I want you in my life...should I ask you for your hand in marriage first, or should I ask your father?"

Sidhien wanted to laugh. She wanted to cry. She wanted lay her head against his chest so that she might hear his strong steady heartbeat more clearly. "Ask me first," she told him; it took all the willpower she possessed to stop her voice from shaking. "And if I say yes, then you may go and ask my father."

"And are you gonna say yes?" asked Logan with a mischievous grin. Surely he knew the answer!

"I do not know," she countered. "You have yet to ask me."

"Right. Y'know, I was thinkin' of doin' this properly like the way they do in the movies—the stories in my world, with a ring and all that, but I haven't exactly got one." It felt as if everyone in the great hall was watching them as Logan got down on one knee, still holding her hands in his large rough ones. This was a man who lived off the fruits of his own sweat. He stared up at her, and she could sense that he was nervous. She waited. He cleared his throat in the manner of anxious mortals. "Marry me?" he asked. There were only two words, three syllables, but it was enough to make her heart beat so quickly that she felt as if it might just leap out of her chest.

"Yes," she whispered, not trusting her voice. "I think I shall, milord." Her tears of joy were making her vision blurry. Logan leapt to his feet, his grin so wide that it threatened to split his face.

"So...can I kiss you now?"

She was at a total loss as to how to answer. It wasn't that she didn't like the idea of having Logan kissing her, but it was so improper, especially in public when everyone could see them. In fact, she was confused as to why he would suggest it, unless it was not considered improper amongst his people. "I do not think my father would approve," she said at last, "and you have yet to ask his permission."

"Oh, man," he muttered. "Here comes the final test. Meet the parents."

"I am certain that they will come to see what I see in you, milord," said Sidhien, giving him a playful smile to try and alleviate his tension.

"And what do you see in me?"

"Well, that is hard to say," she said. "Right now, I see a very handsome man. This tunic suits you."

"Really?" he said. "Well, you'd better take a long look because this'll be the last time you'll see it on me."

He felt like a specimen being analyzed by overly observant scientists. When Sidhien's mother had first set eyes on him, her look of shock would have been comical if he had not been too nervous to appreciate it. In fact, she could not have looked more shocked if Sidhien had brought a mûmak to show her. Indeed, to these people, he was more like an exotic specimen from far off rather than a potential son-in-law, or at least he felt that way.

"And you have no family, Master Logan?" asked Maethor. Sidhien's father was a tall elf with chiselled features —like all the other elves— and a very serious countenance. One would not have thought that he was any older than twenty two until one looked into his eyes. He was rather like Legolas in this respect, except Legolas had a sense of humour that was never far from the surface. If this elf had any humour, then it was very well hidden.

"None left alive, I'm pretty sure," said Logan. This was an awful answer. He sounded so crass and cold.

"What happened?" asked Sidhien's mother. She seemed to be the easier one to win over, although looks could be deceiving.

"They...died in a war," said Logan. He supposed Victor did die during a war, only he didn't mention who had killed him. He didn't want to sound like a deranged psychopath. Tragic heroic soldier, yes, but definitely not killing machine. And he was pretty sure his father had been shot, so that wasn't so different from dying in a war, was it? As for his mother...well, the only thing he could remember about her was her horrified and disgusted whisper, asking him what he was. He'd been...what, eight or nine at the time? No, this was definitely not something he wanted to mention.

"That is a tragedy," said Maethor. "I am sorry."

Logan inclined his head in acknowledgement. And was that a glimmer of empathy in Maethor's eyes? Maybe he had lost family in battle also.

"What is it that you do for a living?" asked Maethor. Apparently, the Spanish inquisition was not over yet.

"Right now, I'm a soldier," said Logan, "although technically, I'm a teacher." He glared at Berenon as the elf snorted. Maethor noticed his son's reaction to Logan's answer and he raised an eyebrow in Logan's direction.

"I teach self defense," said Logan rather defensively. "The kids—" Oh dear. Now Berenon was trying to conceal his laughter with absolutely no success whilst his parents looked horrified at the prospect of having a son-in-law who taught young goats.

"That is what Logan's people call children," said Sidhien hurriedly. "He is not a teacher of young goats."

"It is a very odd dialect that you have," said Maethor. He had recovered from his shock, although he seemed to be the only one. Sidhien's mother was still staring at Logan as if the latter had grown horns on his head. The Wolverine self-consciously ran a hand over his hair, quite aware that the two peaks did look rather like horns. "Where do you come from?"

Now he was in trouble. He was pretty sure the elf wouldn't like it if he found out that the man who wanted to marry his daughter came from a completely different world, perhaps even a different universe. At that moment, however, Legolas chose to make his appearance.

"Ah, Logan!" cried the elven prince. "You are just the wolverine I was looking for. I need you to be a judge." Before the Wolverine could respond, being so stunned, Legolas had dragged him away to one of the tables where a huge crowd had gathered.

"What'd you do that for?" Logan hissed to the prince.

"Saving you," Legolas whispered back, "and helping to recommend you in an indirect manner."

"What the hell are you on about?"

"I am of elven royalty, whether you remember it or not. To your lady's family, my opinion matters, and if they see that I trust you, then they might not be so hostile towards you. Now, come. Neither of us emerged as the champion of the last drinking game we had, and I think we had better have another round, after Gimli proves that he is a better drinker than Boromir, of course."

"The Prince seems to think rather highly of him," Maethor observed. It took all of Berenon's willpower not to mention that Logan was the only one in the world who would dare to tell Prince Legolas to 'shut up'. After all, he was supposed to be on his sister's side, and telling his parents that would not improve their opinions of the man.

"And he seems to be acquainted with Lords Elrond and Glorfindel," said Bronweth as she watched Logan speak with the two elf lords. They were too far away to hear what was being said, but they seemed affable enough. Of course, Berenon had heard rumours about how Logan had told Lord Glorfindel that he looked neither male nor female, although he was quite certain that even Logan would not be brash enough to insult the elf lord who had slain a Balrog. Then again, this was Logan. He tended to do what people did not expect him to do.

"But he seems so..." Maethor's voice trailed off as he tried to search for a word to describe his prospective son-by-marriage. He glanced at Sidhien and then left the sentence unfinished. Even the least observant person could tell that the young woman was truly in love with the man, no matter how unworthy he was of her. Berenon knew that he was being biased, but he truly did not think that Logan was good enough. He was a mortal, for the love of the Valar! He would bring Sidhien nothing but pain in the end.

"So, you got any tips for convincing her parents to let me marry her?" Logan asked Legolas as the other men cheered Gimli and Boromir on. Beer was splashed everywhere. A terrible waste, but he guessed the boys deserved to have their fun after everything they had been through.

"What makes you think that I have any knowledge when it comes to convincing a father to let you marry his daughter?" asked the elven prince. He held up his hands, with palms facing upwards. "As you can see, I am still unmarried."

"Oh, come on," said Logan. "You must have seen other people try it, and they must have told you about the things that don't work. Don't you have married older brothers?"

"Well, yes, but I would not take advice from them," said Legolas. "After all, my only married brother required my father's aid in convincing his wife's father."

"Well, your dad seems quite knowledgeable about these things," said Logan. "Imagine what sort of advice he'd give me."

"He would tell you not to bother, because you are simply not good enough for her," said Legolas with a devilish grin. "However, who am I to dash the hopes of clawed men who are hopelessly in love?"

"We're going around in circles and getting nowhere, Legolas," said Logan. He was beginning to get impatient. He was in no mood for joking. "Seriously, I need help. You're the closest thing to an expert, bein' a prince and all that."

"Diplomacy is not always a prince's strength," said Legolas wryly. Upon seeing Logan's face, however, he shook his head. "You take my advice at your own peril. "Do not use any of your 'slang' and try to be civilized." Then he was thoughtful. "Do they know that you are immortal? Part of their reluctance could stem from their concern for your lady's future happiness." The elf glanced at where Aragorn and Arwen were sitting, their heads close together. They weren't even talking, but they seemed unnaturally happy. "The first time an elf married a mortal, she gave up her immortality. I doubt that Sidhien's mother and father would want their daughter to do that. If they know that she will not have to, then perhaps they will stop the...spannerish inquisition?"

"Spanish," said Logan. "Spanish Inquisition." He rubbed his chin. "So you're sayin' that I should go up and tell them outright that I'm gonna live forever? Are you sure they're not gonna think I'm off my rocker?"

"I thought only infants needed rockers," said one very confused Prince of Greenwood. Then Legolas shook his head. "Ah, you and your strange language, Logan. I suggest you use words that everyone can understand if you want to convince your lady love's family that you are indeed a suitable match for her."

He tried rehearsing his speech in his head. Everything needed to be perfect. He had to be upfront, blunt, but not too blunt. All in all, he had to sound like a good guy. And while his friends had managed to convince him that he was a good guy, despite all his misgivings, no one was able to tell him that he sounded like one. Quite worrying, considering the fact that Sidhien's father was not likely to see him on the battlefield. Although, to be honest, he was quite badass during battle and very proud of it. Still, if he were in Maethor's place, he wouldn't want his daughter to marry a guy with seemingly no background and completely foreign mannerisms.

Logan rubbed his temples, trying to think of the right words. Ones that wouldn't make him sound as if he had a stick up his arse and at the same time, wouldn't make him sound like a complete philistine. If only he'd paid more attention when he'd be subbing for an English literature class when they had been learning about Shakespearian plays. That would have come in useful. Even a line or two from one of those poems...something about a ambivalent pentameter or something. They had sounded sophisticated.

The musicians had struck up a lively tune, full of twanging and acoustics. It reminded Logan of just how much he did not belong in these settings. Judging from the looks on the faces of everyone around him, they had grown up in these courtly situations and knew just how to behave. There was a lot of fancy bowing and curtseys as men turned to the women around them and asked them for the honour of a dance. Hey...hadn't they done just that in one of those movies concerning girls looking for husbands? Marie and her friends had been quite fond of them. Logan, of course, had taken one look at the screen and then bolted to the kitchen where the boys had been enjoying a bucket of Kentucky fried chicken. Did those movies talk about how to talk to a woman's parents? Hmm...this was completely different from parent-teacher conferences, not that he had been allowed to do one of those on his own, much to the disappointment of some of his more mischievous students.

This was the completely wrong topic to be thinking about when he ought to be finding ways to approach his future in-laws. Well, there was nothing for it. He couldn't possibly let them think that he was...well, slightly afraid of them. Elves had that effect on people, with their unblinking stares. Sidhien's parents didn't even have Legolas' sarcasm to make them seem...more human. The drinking game between Boromir and Gimli was still going on, although it was quite obvious who was winning. Despite his prowess on the battlefield, Boromir was no match for a dwarf, and especially not Gimli, who seemed to be a seasoned pro at this game. The Gondorian, however, seemed to be quite aware of his abilities. He held up a hand as someone held out another mug full of frothy ale to him. "I yield, I yield!" he said whilst holding onto the edge of the table for support. "Never again will I question the fabled endurance of the dwarves, and I pity the man who repeats my mistake!"

Éomer was grinning as he accepted his winnings from Faramir. "You must have known that your brother could not win," said the future king of Rohan.

"I did, but he is my brother," said Faramir. "I had to bet on him."

"Come, little brother. Do not make it sound as if I forced you to bet on anyone," Boromir slurred. If he hadn't been so nervous, Logan would have enjoyed the sight of his disciplined friend being so undisciplined. The Gondorian eased himself into a chair. "You could have chosen to be a spectator."

"What sort of brother would I be if I did not show some support for you?" asked Faramir. "Even, if I admit, that it was a waste of money."

Boromir laughed. It was the sort of open laughter that one seldom heard from him. "See here? So much for brotherly love. I am only a waste of money."

"Right now, you are also talking nonsense," said Faramir good-naturedly. "I think we ought to find you a wife to keep you sensible."

"Ah, now that you are due to be married, you seem to want everyone else to be married too! Spare me your match-making skills, brother. When the time comes, I shall find my own wife, and that will not be before certain friends of mine find theirs."

"Then you should get your wedding rings ready," said Logan. "Me, I'm almost there."

" 'Almost' being the key word," said Legolas helpfully.

"Milord, a moment please, if you will?" said Logan. This had not been his idea. He had skimped this off Faramir. What he was going to say next, he wasn't sure, but he knew that he wasn't going to go around in circles anymore. That wasn't him. He was blunt and straightforward, sometimes too straightforward. However, that was one of his virtues, wasn't it? Men could always trust him to be honest.

Maethor turned, seemingly surprised that the rough man with the strange accent had suddenly become so formal. However, the elf didn't say anything, but just regarded him with those grey unblinking eyes. ." Beside her father, Sidhien was looking at him strangely, although the smile she gave him was encouraging, as if she knew that he had thought long and hard about how to address her father. Logan swallowed. 'Here goes nothing,' he thought. "Look, I know you think I'm not good enough for your daughter, and certainly not worth her givin' up her eternal happiness."

"It seems we understand each other perfectly, Master Logan," said Maethor. "Since you said it first, then I shall not hesitate to be completely honest with you. No, I do not think that you are worthy of her sacrifice, and I am quite reluctant to give you her hand in marriage."

"Ada, I love him," Sidhien protested before either of the men could say anything. "You might not think he is good enough for me, but I believe he is good enough. More than good enough. I would give up anything for him, even immortality."

"You don't have to give up immortality for me, baby," said Logan, before he realized what had come out of his mouth. Baby? Really? Ah, well, he was just going to have to plough on and hope that Sidhien's father did not notice. "We've got eternity to spend together."

"Eternity?" echoed Maethor. "What do you mean?"

"Immortal," breathed Sidhien. She moved away from her father, all the while never taking her eyes off the man who had netted her heart almost from the moment they had met and learned each others' names. "You are immortal..." She was so close to him that their bodies were almost touching. "Why didn't you tell me?" Her eyes never left his the whole time. She did have the longest eyelashes and the smoothest skin that Logan had ever seen. And her scent...it was intoxicating. He just wanted bury his face in her soft —and unfortunately, braided— hair. No, no. He shouldn't let his fantasies get away with him, at least not while he was standing in public in front of his prospective father-in-law.

"It never exactly came up in our conversations," said Logan. It never occurred to him that it would matter either, until now.

"An immortal adan?" said Maethor, looking at Logan in an entirely new light. "How is that possible?" He shook his head. "Of all the edain my daughter can fall in love with, she falls for one who will live forever. Ai! 'Tis the will of the Valar, I deem, and how can I thwart the Valar's will?"

"So you are saying yes, Ada," said Sidhien. She seemed to be reluctant to tear her gaze away from Logan's face.

"Yes," said the older elf. "I can say no more on this matter. It was more than coincidence that brought the two of you together, and I would be too cruel and foolish if I forcefully separated you."

Logan grinned, unable to think of anything to say. He wasn't the most eloquent man in the world. Surely if Maethor could accept him, claws and all, as a son-in-law now that he knew he was immortal, the elf could deal with awkward moments of speechlessness. The older elf took Sidhien's hand and placed it in Logan's. "If you, in anyway, cause her grief, you will answer to my sword," he said to the man.

"If I cause her grief, I'll extend my neck for your sword," said Logan.

"If you cause me grief, I shall deal with you myself," said Sidhien.

"I guess I can kiss you now, huh?" asked the Wolverine. He bent down so that their noses were almost touching. It was such a beautiful and intimate moment. What a great pity that it never bore any fruit.

"Absolutely not, young man!"

It had been a hectic year. Gondor had mostly been rebuilt. The men had spent an inordinate amount of time hunting stray orc parties and trolls and wargs and whatnot. Logan finally got his warg skin, although is future mother-in-law insisted that it was hideous and therefore should not be displayed so prominently on a wall. The hobbits, Legolas, and Gimli had all left for home, although they had all sent word recently that they would all be in Minas Tirith in the first month of spring.

At last, after many months of proper courtship, dealing with orc parties, cultural education and ordering rings, Logan and Sidhien had finally set a wedding date. Originally, Logan had wanted it to be a simple affair, but his friends and his future in laws were having none of it.

"This is quite a significant event, Logan," said Aragorn in one of his few spare moments when he was not bogged down by paperwork or negotiations with foreign chieftains. The Wolverine had discovered that being king was not an enviable job. The pay was certainly not enough to make up for the workload. He sometimes wondered if Aragorn got any time to sleep at all. He always seemed to be needed at three places at once. "You are one of the heroes of the war, whether you admit it or not. Therefore, your wedding must be conducted properly."

"I am certain that your bride will appreciate it," said the queen. After their initial meeting, where Logan had tried unsuccessfully to flirt with her, and in front of her then-fiancé and her brothers, their relationship had become like that of aunt and nephew, or of a wiser older sister and brash younger brother. "Women often appreciate the finer things in life more than men."

"Fine, fine, whatever," said Logan. As long as Sidhien was happy, then he was happy, and he would suffer even the most uncomfortable tunic if it would make her smile. He drew the line at shaving though. "But let's do it the way it's done in my world, all right? At least, make it a bit of a mix." Although this was his wedding, he seemed to have very little say in it because there were far too many important people who were only too happy to organize everything for him. All he had to do was show up.

Surprisingly enough, Lord Elrond's company, and the Lady's company, were still in the city. No doubt they wanted to spend more time with the queen before they left the shores of Middle Earth forever. It was a depressing thought that all the elves were leaving. Despite the fact that Logan did not get along with many of them —Lord Goldilocks being one such elf, although they had reached an uncomfortable truce— he did appreciate them the way that a man could appreciate a tiger. Their leaving marked the end of an era, and also something else. Middle Earth was becoming ordinary.

Gandalf had also stayed in the White City, although he had almost gone to the Shire when the hobbits sent word that they'd encountered and defeated Saruman there. However, seeing as Merry had everything under control, the wizard saw no need. The new king needed him by his side to give him advice on many matters. If King Elessar was the equivalent of the president, then Gandalf would be...well, Logan didn't know what he would be.

All of them got an invitation to Logan's wedding. He had made some suggestions about the guest list, but seeing as he didn't know all that many people in Middle Earth and also did not know how to read their language, he was happy enough to let Sidhien do it with help from her mother and her brother. As for him, his only task seemed to be going to the fittings for his —horror of horrors— wedding robes. Yes, he had been forcefully persuaded to wear robes. He thought he looked ridiculous in them, and Berenon seemed to be of the same opinion, although his future brother in law delighted in sniggering at him as he stood helplessly on a stool at the mercy of the seamstresses. At least they were black, and not green, as his mother in law had wanted. That was, until she'd seen him in that forest green and decided that he was not a man who was well suited to elvish colours. And they were not floor length, which was something to be grateful for. He would die if he had to show up to his own wedding with a gown that was prettier than his bride's.

Even Princess Diana's wedding to Charles hadn't been so grand, of that Logan was certain. Actually, he remembered ignoring the entire royal wedding so perhaps he had gotten it wrong. Still, there was no denying that this was a huge event. They'd even rolled out the red carpet for him and Gandalf was going to be the celebrant. And there was a king attending this wedding; a king who could actually be king instead of a pretty picture. That had to make this even more significant than Charlie boy and Di, right? Even they hadn't had wizards and kings and elven princes and real-life heroes attending their wedding.

He tugged at his tunic again. Apparently, stag parties were not a part of Gondorian culture. His best man —of course he'd asked Boromir, who'd been a little confused about the whole best man custom, but had agreed in the end— hadn't even known about the fact that he needed a party before he gave up bachelorhood forever. His last night of being an unmarried man was spent in solitude, because he hadn't been allowed to see the bride either. Weddings in Middle Earth were indeed taken very, very seriously.

Logan had to admit that he didn't look too awful with the robes; he just looked like he was getting ready to attend Comic Con, that was all. If his students could see him looking like such a geek, they would have taken multiple pictures of him and then pasted the pictures all over the school website. Actually, maybe they would have been able to convince Bronweth that he didn't need robes and then they would have definitely thrown him a bachelor party, even though he'd probably have ended up paying for it. Logan sighed. It was too bad that they didn't even know about the wedding.

"Well, you look...dashing," said someone in the doorway. Logan whipped around, popping his claws and ruining a pair of expensive lamb-skin gloves. There stood Legolas, in all his princely finery, and with him was Gimli, only the dwarf was not half as controlled as the elf. Gimli had his back turned to Logan, but his shoulders were shaking and he was making some very odd noises.

"You try wearin' somethin' like this an' lookin' good," muttered Logan before he realized that Legolas would indeed look very good in these robes and shiny new boots. Not to mention the tight leggings that were cutting off his circulation. "If I didn't love her so much, I wouldn't be puttin' up with this."

"You annot not attend your own wedding in your own worn leather coat," reasoned Legolas. "Is it even wearable now? Do not answer. It matters not. I am certain your lady will appreciate your effort to appease her family."

"Y'know, I wanted to make them like me, but I didn't mean to bend over backwards to achieve it," muttered Logan. They'd settled on a black velvet for his robes, with gold —gold!— embroidery on the collar, the sleeves and the hem. There was even a cape, also with gold embroidery, as if he was some bloody super hero.

"Just smile and think about the fact that you are finally allowed to kiss her —in a few hours," said Legolas. "This is a happy day, Logan. Stop looking as if you have, what do you call it? A stick stuck up—"

"Legolas! I thought you were a prince!"

"I am merely trying to make you understand the situation, and using your language seemed to be my best chance," said the elf. He turned to the laughing dwarf by his side. "Now, Gimli, now that Logan is settling down, we really must discuss your romantic life, or lack thereof."

Gimli immediately stopped laughing, whipped around and started sputtering. "Me? Me? What about you, you unmarried ancient elvish princeling?" he demanded.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Weddings are not my forte. I prefer the type promoted by the Pirates of the Caribbean franchise. I'm just rounding things up now. The next chapter will probably finish things off...until the sequel.

Stay tuned...

A TERRIFYING SUSPICION...

Legolas: I may be...

Jack Sparrow: Mortal?

.

ONE LEGENDARY TREASURE...

Jack: Behold! The Fountain of Youth!

Will Turner: That's a picture, Jack.

Jack: We'll just have to make do for now until we get the real thing, savvy?

.

A MISMATCHED RABBLE OF LORDS AND THIEVES...

Aragorn: I cannot believe you would do this to me!

Jack: You'll thank me in a couple o' hundred years, mate.

Balian of Ibelin: This is Hell.

Barbossa: No; this be Heaven.

Paris: And I thought the Greeks were bad.

Jack is wearing a white wig and pretending to be a British naval officer. Gimli sits uncomfortably on a tall barstool in a dirty pub with drunken pirates whilst Paris fights off the advances of a woman in a low-cut dress.

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A DESPERATE ATTEMPT TO CHANGE FATE...

Paris runs towards something. Elizabeth screams. Balian slams someone up against a cliff-face.

Achilles: Jack, can you, for once, stop thinking about making a profit?

Jack: Errr...no.

.

SOME MUST FACE THEIR PAST...

A younger Jack glares at Cutler Beckett.

Jonathan Beckett: Blood is thicker than water, Sparrow.

Jack: [grinning] But it ain't as thick as rum.

.

WHILE OTHERS MUST TRY TO FORGET THEIRS...

Elizabeth: This isn't your fight, Balian. Not anymore.

Will brushes cobwebs off an abandoned anvil.

Achilles: In my day...

Jack: Oh, shut it.

.

FRIENDSHIP WILL BE TESTED...

Elizabeth: You left him there to die?

Paris: It was either him or everyone else!

Balian crosses blades with someone.

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AN ENTIRE WORLD IS AT STAKE...

Will: If he gets his hands on that...

Legolas: Then we are all going to...what is it? Go to Hell.

Paris: At least we won't be cold.

FROM THE AUTHOR OF THE CHANCE ENCOUNTER SERIES AND IT'S AN ODD COINCIDENCE COMES

CHANCE ENCOUNTER V: FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH

Jack: That's right, you'd better be afraid, mate.

Beckett: But not of you.