This is a work of fiction and is not to be sold in any way shape or form. It is simply for my amusement and the challenge of writing these characters in a strange and dangerous world. All the characters are owned by Disney and I do not claim ownership of any of them. Please let me know what you think in the comments below! Without further ado, welcome to The Kingdom.)
High above the forest floor, Mowgli, along with Simba, Timon and Pumbaa, rode atop the dragon Elliot as he beat his wings and soared along the air currents over Neverland below. Their plan was simple. They would barge right into Pan’s cave and demand that Pan no longer hunt or kidnap animals from other lands and that, furthermore, he give them safe passage on his flying ship off the island. Mowgli figured a lion and a dragon were enough to scare anyone straight.
It was night now, and as they looked ahead of them, they could see a cluster of bright stars on the horizon, glowing brilliantly as if waiting to be wished upon.
“Look at the stars,” said Mowgli to the small crew. “Beautiful right?” But as they stared, the stars began to move erratically, as if with a mind of their own. Suddenly, they were racing back and forth, up and down.
“Kid,” said Timon, uneasily. “I don’t think those are stars.”
Like torrent of insects, the white lights converged on them, swarming. Mowgli felt stinging pain in his arms and legs. Looking down, he realized that the creatures were cutting him. His flesh was bleeding and all around them, the little lights, which he now noticed were actually tiny glowing people with wings, were jabbing at them with little swords.
“We have to get out of here!” yelled Simba.
Mowgli pulled left on Elliot’s fur and the huge dragon spiraled to the left, shaking off the fairies. At the same time, he opened his mouth and sprayed out a jet of flames which caught some of the fairies, burning their wings and sending them plummeting towards the Earth below.
Like a flock of birds, the fairies shifted as one entity, re-aimed and launched towards them, ready for another assault. They converged on them once more, stabbing at skin, scales and fur alike.
“Hold on!” yelled Mowgli. With everyone bracing themselves, Elliot flipped upside down and sprayed another blast of fire towards the faeries who had been naive enough to not fly away. Another batch of them fell away, their thin wings burning into dust. Elliot flipped back upright and continued to fly.
“We need to get lower!” yelled Pumbaa. “They’re coming back for more.” The warthog looked worse for wear. He too had been jabbed by the little monsters.
“You heard him Elliot,” said Mowgli, attempting to learn to steer the dragon under very short notice. “Down into the trees.”
“Oh no,” said Timon. Mowgli looked back, confused, but then saw that Timon’s eyes had gone wide as he stared forward, horrified. Mowgli looked ahead of them to see the old frail man, Peter Pan, floating in mid-air with his fists at his waste. If Mowgli didn’t know better, he would have said that Pan looked like a hero.
The old man smiled crookedly as he pulled a small sword from a sheath on his waste and then rocketed towards them through the air, flying as easily as a fish could swim.
“Turn turn turn!” yelled Simba, but Elliot was simply to large to make fast maneuvers. Before they could veer away, Pan slammed into Mowgli, pulling him from atop the dragon. Mowgli reached out, attempting to grab on to Pan or Elliot or even the air, but it all slipped through his fingers and he plummeted towards the jungle below.
With a few heavy thwaps, he ricocheted off of several tree branches, pain shooting through his body as he did so. He felt his arm turn a direction it wasn’t meant to and his back screamed for relief. With one last thud, he slammed into the jungle floor, the foliage cushioning his fall, but still managing to knock the air out of his lungs. He took several gasping breaths, forcing himself not to lose consciousness. Pan was most likely still behind him. After all, he could fly!
Mowgli grabbed at the dirt in front of him, dug his hands into it and pulled himself forward. His blurry vision was starting to ebb. His lungs were beginning to fill with air. He could do this. He just needed to get up. He needed to run. The jungle was his friend. He was strong in the jungle. He knew how to move quickly through it. If a fight was going to be had with Peter Pan, Mowgli couldn’t have asked for a better backdrop.
He dragged himself to a large tree and then used it for support as he forced himself up from the ground. He took another breath and then rolled his head along his neck, lifting his shoulders a few times to get out the kinks in his spine.
“Come out and fight me you big codfish,” came a voice from beyond the trees behind him. Mowgli took off into the thickest patch of bushes he could find. He ran along the path, swinging from vines over small streams and leaping across large crevices in the earth. The trees behind him rustled as Pan continued to follow in pursuit. He turned to look back, to make sure he was safe, but all of a sudden the ground dropped from beneath him. In his attempt to look back, he’d failed to see the enormous hole waiting in front of him. He toppled down a small hill, slamming into several rocks which jutted from the cliff wall before sliding to a stop in front of wide stream which bubbled through the forest. It was dark here, and as he gasped for air once more and tried to push himself up from the soft, soiled sand, he realized that he was very deep in the jungle indeed.
His eyes stopped as his gaze fell on a small shaft of light which came down from above and settled on what appeared to be a dark, thick wooden stick which protruded from the water at the center of the stream. But as Mowgli looked closer, he could just make out a design on the stick. A strand of silver spiraled tightly up it and at the top of it was silver plating with a design etched into it. Whatever he was looking at, it was not just some ordinary stick.
“Where…are…YOU?” came Pan’s voice from behind Mowgli. He turned for just a moment to see the the forest above trembling as Pan searched for him. There was no more time. Pan would find him any second. He was out in the open and his energy was gone. He couldn’t run anymore. With a leap of faith, he pushed himself off the ground and towards the stick, grabbing at it as he fell into the water.
“THERE!” yelled Pan from above. He could hear the swarm of fairies. He could hear Pan laughing maniacally as he descended down the hill.
Mowgli stood from the water and wrapped both hands firmly around the stick, which he now realized to be a handle. With a mighty pull, he lifted the handle from the water, revealing its other end, a massive, rectangular block of stone which looked as though it could crush anything it came into contact with. The stick in the stream was actually a huge hammer. But it didn’t feel heavy in the slightest. It felt light in his hands, like air. He imagined there was more to this thing then met the eye. Suddenly, a blue lightning began to burst from it, spiraling around the metal of the hammer. Mowgli turned as he heard Pan’s yell behind him.
On instinct, he pushed the hammer out in front of him. With an explosion like thunder, the hammer shot a flurry of electricity out towards Peter Pan, catching him mid-flight and jolting his entire body. Pan screamed in pain as his body twisted and smoke rolled off his skin. With a final burst of electricity, Pan went flying into a nearby tree. The lightning stopped and the hammer returned to normal.
Mowgli shivered with shock, not believing his eyes. He ran over to Peter and knelt down beside him, dropping the hammer to the ground. Peter looked up at Mowgli as he took deep gasping breaths, his body failing him.
“You have to leave this island…” he said. “The darkness has already taken us, but for you-” He coughed. “For you, there is still time.” A dark smoke began to roll off his body. Mowgli gasped, remembering the smoke that rolled off of Pete just before the ship had been destroyed. Peter coughed again.
“I’m sorry,” said Mowgli. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
“Neither did I,” said Peter. “When the darkness came, we didn’t realize it was consuming us, devouring our very souls, until it was too late.” Peter gave a weak smile. “Do not fret for me. To live, really was a great adventure. To die, shall be an even greater one.” He winced, putting a bony hand to his chest. “You know that place between sleep and awake, the place where you can still remember dreaming?”
“That’s where the darkness waits. Don’t let it find you.” He let his hand fall to his side and then looked up to the sky, singing a little song under his breath. “The second star to the right, shines in the night…for…you…” His eyes went still and his lips stopped moving.
Mowgli wiped a tear from his eyes and ran a hand over Peter’s face, closing his eye lids for him. He stood slowly and went to the hammer, picking it up and eying it. It was a curious thing, but Mowgli thought that if darkness really was coming for them all, he ought to have a weapon to fight it. He grabbed a handful of long blades of grass from the side of the stream and tied them together to make a strap for the hammer. He then wrapped it around himself, affixing the hammer to his back. With one last look at Peter, he walked into the jungle.
Before long, he found Elliot, Simba, Timon and Pumbaa. With as few words as possible, he told them of what had happened and together they went to Peter’s cave. The lost boys had run off, clearly terrified by anyone who could take out their leader. At the heart of the cave, they found the promised golden ship. It gleamed and sparkled, a veritable treasure amongst the wreckage of the island. Yet the gold had dulled over the years and now it only faintly glowed as they boarded it and looked it over.
Elliot evaluated it and declared, through a series of clicks and growls, that the ship had very little magic left in it and that soon all magic would be gone from the island. There was only enough to fuel one last trip.
“You three take the ship,” said Mowgli to Simba Timon and Pumbaa. “Go back to your home and make sure this darkness never gets their. Elliot and I will go the rest of the way to the Kingdom.”
They all said their goodbyes as Timon went to the helm of the ship. It lifted up through a hole in the top of the mountain, where once, Mowgli imagined, a great volcano had lived. Mowgli and Elliot hovered above the island for a tim, waving farewell to their friends.
As the golden ship faded over the horizon, Elliot turned and with Mowgli on his back they flew away from Neverland and out over the sea below. For days, they traveled, making camp at little islands along the way. They would eat and share stories every night. Elliot told him of the other children he’d helped and Mowgli told the dragon of his other animal friends. They made fast friends of each other.
One morning, as they flew, Mowgli saw land on the horizon. He peered at it, trying to make out what he was seeing as it glinted and gleamed in the early sun. Elliot whistled and clicked and Mowgli instantly understood. It was the Kingdom, the gold of the city creating reflections in the light. His heart rose, but then instantly sank.
In the ocean below, heading straight for the glowing city, was a dark shadow, like smoke, rolling over the water below. The evil that had taken Pan was heading for the city he’d come all this way to find. Someone had to warn them.
“Quick Elliot!” yelled Mowgli. With a mighty roar, Elliot flapped his wings heartily, heading for the city. Together they would race the shadow below. Mowgli only hoped they would make it there in time and that someone would believe their story before it was too late.