I've Sailed the Seas

I walk down the main street of the town. Ahead of me, I see the market. Women are wandering around while men are standing behind their small shops, yelling out offers to the passing costumers.
I walk through the herd of people and am pushed more than once. Their hurried pace is stressing me, so I quickly find an alley to hide in for a minute.

As I stand there, at the edge of an alleyway, I view the terrain.

There are no buff men. All the men behind the counters of their ramshackle shops are either fat or thin, and women are never an option. Children are too much of a hassle.
I look through the crowd, and on the other side of the street, a few shops down, I spot a young man. His clothes are ripped and torn, and his hair is a dull and dusty dark brown color. Despite the few lines of dirt on his face, his skin is flawless. Despite his drooping posture, his body is attractive.
Despite all his imperfect features, he looks perfect.
His eyes catch mine, and he smiles before he quickly looks away and asks a passerby for – no doubt – money. The desperation in his eyes is easily read as a hunger for money.
With a quick check for human traffic, I jump into the crowd and snake my way through the mass of bodies.
I almost lose my way when a fat woman won’t move and I have to go backwards a bit, but I spot him through the crowd and walk over to him.
Once I’m in front of him, I realize how short he is.
He’s tiny.

He looks up at me with wide eyes and stretches his empty, dirty hand up towards me.

“Can you spare some change?” I didn’t realize I was even back in our own country, until I hear his comprehendible words. There’s a slight accent in his voice, but I actually understand his words.
I suddenly feel a certain connection with him. I don’t know why, but his words make me feel more at home than I’ve ever had.

“Of course.” His eyes light up brightly, and I feel my heart beat a little faster. I have to swallow down hard to keep my voice from sounding insecure.
“But you have to earn them.” A bit of the light in his eyes fade away, and I yearn for it to return.
Suddenly, the innocence and naivety in his eyes is gone, and a playful smirk appears on his lips. He scans my body up and down as the tip of his tongue strokes across the edges of his lips.
His eyes glisten with lust when they reach mine again.
I forget to breathe.

“Oh, I can earn them,” I hear him mutter, before he quickly switches back to being sweet, innocent and naïve. His wide, empty eyes confuse me. Did I just imagine that whole sexy scene?
I bite my lip.
“What is the job?” I can hear a tiny hint of taunting in his voice, but it is mostly laced over with credulousness.
I smirk. If he wants to play, I can play.

“I need your help.” I lift my eyebrows once, and I see his eyes bounce along with them. I smirk wider.
“I need to find a some hardy men.” He suddenly looks confused – truly confused.
“I need to find some strong men to help me.” And then, he looks disappointed. I almost giggle at how cute he looks – all sad and let down – but I keep a straight, superior face to maintain the upper hand.
He looks around the market place, and I can practically feel his sadness. It’s starting to dig at my heart and throat, and my smirk quickly fades along with my dominance.
He looks up at me.

“I know two men. They might not be the strongest, but they are strong and clever.” I cock an eyebrow.
This young man is very useful.

“Take me to them,” I demand, and before I can say it again he is on his feet. He looks at me hesitantly for a second or two, before he firmly grabs my hand and drags me through the crowd.
I almost slip out of his grip twice, but he tightens it both times.
And both times, I feel a little safer.

He pulls me into an alleyway and lets go of my hand, and suddenly the murky and dim walls of the small street is on the boarder of scary to me.

“Here,” he says quietly and when I look at him, he’s holding a door open for me.
I’m wiry at first at the thought of entering unknown territory with a strange, young man, but I – out of nowhere, it seems – find it in me to fully trust him and his word.
I walk into the dark room. The light from behind me disappears along with my long shadow that was in front of me, and I start feeling fear crawling up my back and clawing at my throat.
The young man grabs my hand again, and immediately the fear is gone.
“This way,” he says and tugs me through the dark.
“I’m Frank, by the way.” I silently grin at his bluntness.

“Gerard,” I tell the dark as Frank tugs me down a short flight of stairs.

“That sounds very…uhm…foreign.”

“My mom was French,” I explain quickly, before a door is opened and light floods into my eyes – blinding me.

“Frank!” someone yells, but I still can’t see anything.

“Hey guys.”

“Who is this?” another voice yells as my sight slowly returns – white dots forming in front of me.

“This is Gerard. He’s got work for you guys!”
The room goes silent and slowly the dots decrease in size and I start seeing again.
I spot two young men – a bit older, stronger and obviously taller than Frank – sitting around a table with a horn each and a carafe of – what I assume is – mead between them.

“What kind of work?” the blond one of them asks as he grits his teeth. I see Frank’s big eyes stare at me out of the corner of my eye – awaiting my answer.

“I need help on my ship.” My father will be livid if he ever finds out I claimed the ship as my own, but I need these guys trust before I start talking about my daddy.

“Your ship?!” The one with the big hair asks, finishing his disbelieving question off with a loud, guttural laugh.
I snarl at him.

“Fine,” I say through clenched teeth.
“My father’s ship.” I glare off to the side and try not to throw a fit at the guy who’s still laughing.

“Ray,” Frank says warningly, and the guy’s laughter slowly dies down.

“Alright, alright,” he says. I guess his name is Ray.
“How much does it pay?” I look back at him and see that he’s still grinning quietly. I bare my teeth at him to show my annoyance and how much I don’t care for or about his mockeries.

“Board and lodging.”

“That’s usually a bad deal,” the blond one says, before he takes a big swig of his horn – obviously emptying it.

“But it’s a deal, nonetheless,” Frank says. He sounds so sweet and caring.
That’s when I notice; Frank is still holding my hand.
I look down into his beautiful, golden eyes, before I look down at our hands. His look soft – very soft – which confuses me, since workers’ hands are usually torn and rough.
I look back into his eyes and am about to ask him if he works, but I melt as soon as the golden orbs meet mine.
They’re mesmerizing.
Even when he turns to his friends and starts talking with them, I still only stare at his eyes and the way they shimmer in the light.
They truly are golden.

“Listen, I know we’re a little tight on money and that we’re drinking stolen mead, but working on a ship either means rowing for Vikings or rowing for rich, stuck-up men, and I’m not about to do either of those!”
I suddenly snap out of my gaze and immediately my brain produces one, single thought:
I can’t leave this beautiful boy behind, but he is obviously not leaving without his friends.

“I have other jobs for you!” I quickly yell out, before I turn my head to face the two sitting at the table.
“We need help to man the sails. And if you are deft with a knife, I can get you a job with the chef. You will never see the underside of the deck.”
The guys look at me – studying me to spot any lies, but obviously come up short.
They share a look with each other, before they turn back to me – both with a smile on their face.

“Alright,” the blond one says and gets up from his seat. He walks over to me and holds his right hand out in front of me.
“You have yourself a deal,” he says, and I reluctantly let go of Frank’s warm, soft hand and grab the blond one’s. His is rough – broken.
“My name is Bob. This is Ray.” Ray comes over and shakes my hand as well.

“If you hold your promise, we will be loyal members of your crew,” Ray says smugly, and I laugh half-heartedly at his remark.