Good morning Smár Einn!
Thank you to Mel and Jill!
.: Þrír Tigir ok Sex :.
The sweeping views of the fjord are enough of a distraction that I don't notice the rocking of the ship until we hit the open ocean. Katla is still in my arms, though she is clinging less tightly now, focused on playing with a small smooth stone in her hands. Foli and Erik have both asked to help row the ship, and though they are much too small, they are given seats and together work to move the oar with the rest of the sailors.
Not all rowers are men, and I wonder if I will be asked to take a turn before the voyage is up. I can't see it going well, but if the boys can do it, the least I can do is try.
My eyes frequently land on Edvard, who is rowing near enough that I can watch him while pretending to watch Katla.
His strong arms handle the oars easily, and the natural rhythm of his body falling in pace with the drummer at the back of the ship tells me he's as confident here as he is on land. I watch his arms flex, each muscle rippling as it's put into action, from his fingers down to his strong legs.
It's almost shameful how much I want him.
Katla provides a good distraction for me, but it never lasts. At any and all opportunity, I watch Edvard, mesmerized by his sheer strength.
When all signs of land fall away, staring at Edvard is the only thing that keeps me calm and grounded. The sea is a foreign landscape to me, and though I grew up near a beach, rarely did I venture into the water.
The air is cool and sharp, despite the summer sun above us. My skin is flecked by tiny droplets of salt water as we row farther out to sea. The square sail snaps above our head, filling with the wind, and as soon as it does, the rowers ease their work.
I look back at Edvard, for I had turned to the sail as it snapped above me, and see that he's looking at me.
His gaze fills me with heat, and suddenly the cool ocean breeze is welcome.
"Bella?" Rúna says, getting my attention. I look away from him to join the conversation between the women, though for the life of me, I cannot concentrate on anything they say.
Every moment on this terrifying journey is one minute closer to our destination where I hope that in some way or another, I'll be allowed to reunite with Edvard properly.
…
The sail is still full, the wind pushing us cleanly through the waves. The rowers have eased in their positions, and I've been allowed to sit closer to the water. Katla is with Eydís, and without a child clinging to me, I feel free to lean a little closer to the edge of the ship and take in the fathomless depths below.
The water is the darkest sapphire, though the surface where the sun is shining on it is almost silver. It is terrifying and dizzying to think of all that could lie beneath us at this very moment.
I fear the sea. It is not somewhere I feel welcome or safe, but despite my unease, I cannot help being drawn closer and closer to the surface of the water.
"Careful, Smár Einn," Edvard says, coming to sit beside me. He is a respectful distance away, on the next bench over, but I'm still acutely aware of his body. "You don't want to fall in."
I lean back, looking up at him. He shines out here in the sun, like a golden beacon. The shades of red in his hair and beard are brighter; bronze and copper and brilliant under the sunshine and reflective sea.
"Can you swim?" I ask him, leaning back on the boat so that I don't accidentally fall in. I feel reasonably sure I won't, but I don't want to risk it.
Edvard smiles softly. "Yes. I swim."
I look out at the water. "I've never seen this sea." I sigh. It's a fair assumption that I haven't. I've only ever seen the Pacific Ocean, and based on my guesses, this is the Atlantic. But I haven't been able to figure out the difference in words for sea and ocean let alone ask about a name for this body of water.
"Tell me of your sea," he requests. I look at him in surprise.
"Oh." I clear my throat and frown. "It is cold," I say, after giving it some thought. "Cold and full of rocks. The water is black and grey and so is the sky." I think back to the few memories I have of the sea. "There are tall green trees on the shore, and when you're in the water, they are bright like jewels."
My mind is lost, falling into the faint recollections I have of swimming. I remember the first time we went to the beach; remember the reckless abandon I felt, charging into the waves.
For some reason I felt invincible.
I remember looking back to shore, realizing how far out I'd gone, realizing I couldn't reach the ground anymore.
The heat seeps out of me, and it is replaced by bracing, burning cold.
I whimper as I am drawn deeper.
My head slips below the water, and when I surface, my lungs burn as I suck in air.
I can't breathe.
"Smár Einn?"
Edvard's voice brings me out of the terrifying cold that is still haunting my memories. I look up at him, shaking my head.
"I'm not very good at swimming," I tell him quietly.
He nods.
"Do not worry, Smár Einn. I will not leave you to these waters. You are safe."