Jack and Thorgil managed to get a ship to Horse Island from a slight man with a merchant vessel. He spoke the language of the Northmen, and despite the slight accent on some of his words, the bracelet strung with boar teeth on his wrist showed that he was not truly a Scot.

Thorgil, with her keen eyes, had spotted the bracelet of boar's teeth and amber while they had been walking along the harbor. She pointed it out, and then led the way to the man, who got a strange look in his eyes when he saw Jack's white cloak and wizard's staff. He began to say something in the language of the Scots, but Thorgil cut the man off.

"Læsa," She said to the man. She spoke in her own tongue. "We are looking for passage to Horse Island, and you have a ship."

Jack leaned against his staff, drawing attention to the gnarled ash. He took advantage of the charm on the man's wrist when he said, "Freyr would surely smile upon your hospitality, if you gave us transport."

"And we have gold," Thorgil said. She fingered the gold studs and hoops in her ears. "If you are interested in that sort of thing."

"Stop this intimidation nonsense," the merchant said. Well then, Jack thought. "I do not need blessings, nor do I need gold. I need something else."

"What is it?" Thorgil asked him. She looked pleased that she wouldn't have to give up any of her jewelry.

"You are a skald?" the man asked Jack.

"I am Dragon Tongue's heir," Jack told him.

"Good, good," the man said. "I am Loni, by the way."

"Well, what do you need, Loni?" Jack asked.

"My ship," Loni said. He got right to the issue at hand. "Do you have a charm to stave off damage to it? It was damaged badly in the winter storms of last year. You remember."

Jack didn't remember, nor did Thorgil. The Islands of the Blessed were in a constant state of summer. But the young man nodded his head, concurring with Loni. "I remember."

"I do not wish for my ship to be damaged again. I thought a skald may be able to keep her safe."

"Er, well-"

"I can do it," Thorgil said. She turned to Loni. "Do you trust a Saxon to keep your ship safe, or one of your own?"

"As long as it is done I d-"

"This boy does not know of the runes that will keep a ship safe from the tempers of Ægir. Let me help."

Jack tried not to be too bothered by Thorgil calling him a boy. She was right, of course. Thorgil knew the runes to invoke to create all kinds of charms and staves. And besides, the life force would not want to be invoked to keep a human's ship afloat. Not for an extended period of time, anyway.

Loni nodded. "What do you need to have this happen?"

Thorgil smiled, stretching the scars on her cheek. "A knife," she said.

And so, four days later, Jack leaned against the mast of Loni's ship, which had a new stave carved a few feet above his head. It was an angular design, scratched deeply into the wood. A brownish-red stain covered the wood- blood from Thorgil's hand. Typical of the magic Northmen practiced, Jack thought, all about sacrifice. He wouldn't complain out loud, of course, because in the end it got the job done. They were on the open sea, Loni and his crew guiding the boat through the water. The sea was peaceful, and the wind was not blowing hard enough to push the ship the long distance to Horse Island. So, the men rowed.

As much as Jack loved the ocean air on his face, and the rolling of the deck below his feet, there was not much to do on the wide merchant vessel besides bail out the water that always found its way around your boots. Thorgil had abandoned him for the crew, trading dirty jokes and curse words with the diverse group of men. With no one else to occupy his time, Jack turned to Loni.

"Teach me to sail?" he asked the man.

Loni's hair was brown, but streaked with grey. It was bound in a low tail, that streamed in the wind blowing from the East. The man didn't decorate himself, besides the bracelet on his wrist, and his beard was shorn shorter than most of the Northmen Jack knew.

"Why?" Loni asked. "Saxons do not sail."

"What am I doing, then?"

"Lazing around while my men sail," Loni said, simply. "I would have thought that a skald would be more busy."

"We usually are," Jack smiled. "Calling to the life force, honing our skills. For a long time I have studied, learning many things from the earth. You could say this voyage is my well-earned rest."

"Is that all it is? A rest?"

"Not exactly," Jack said, edging around the question. He didn't want to reveal much about his quest. "My companion and I are heading north, to complete a task. Once we reach our destination, our schooling will be essentially over."

"But you will not say where it is you are going?"

"I'm not sure if it would be wise. It is not in this realm, however," he added.

"Ah," Loni said. "Continuing the Saga of Thorgil Silverhand, are we?" So the man knew who they were.

"It is my story as well," Jack told him, a little miffed. He had written the ballad, after all. "It is just a little conceited to write about yourself. And Jack the Farmer's Brat is not the awe inspiring epithet of Silverhand."

"Maybe not," the Northman agreed. "But there is more to you than being the son of a farmer, skald." Jack was about to say his thanks, but Loni stopped him. "You wish to sail, then, Jack Farmer's Brat? Follow me."

Jack left his place against the mast and followed Loni to the bow of the ship. He motioned Jack towards the seat next to the rudder. The man who had been using it walked off, probably to go have a drink of water.

"Do you know what this is?" Loni asked him, as Jack sat down. Jack laid his staff across his knees, not wanting it to touch the bilge water washing over his boots.

"It is the rudder," Jack told him. "It steers the ship."

"Aye," Loni agreed. "You have the arms of a newly hatched chick, so this is all you will be able to do on my ship. Do you know how to use it?"

Jack didn't protest his arms being compared to a baby bird, as it was a little true. Despite years of working his father's farm, he had little muscle to speak of. He was not sturdy like Giles, nor did he have the lithe and sinewy grace Thorgil possessed.

"I keep it steady," Jack said. "I keep my hands on it, and I don't let the waves or the wind take it from me."

"Good man," Loni said. "Do that for a few hours and come to me if you still want to be a sailor. Keep it steady." He walked away, but turned back around after a few steps. "And I'll try to keep the shield maiden from teasing you."

He failed, of course. Nothing could keep Thorgil away from an easy target.

"Little skald," she crooned. "Doing manual labor." She had a boffin in her hand, taking a bite out of the dried apple, chewing it with her mouth open. Away from her homeland for six, seven years, and she still kept their manners.

"I asked for this, actually," Jack said, blinking sweat out of his eyes.

"Did you? This was always my job on Olaf's voyages," Thorgil remembered. "I kept Lucy next to me, and pinched her whenever you locked eyes with me. How it made you squirm!"

"When we first met," Jack told her. "I wanted to kill you." I sometimes get the same urge now, he thought. He didn't say that out loud. He wasn't sure if his friend would laugh or punch him in the neck.

Thorgil hummed in response, a smile on her face. "I know," she said. "It was good fun to poke at your wounds, to see the little Saxon lash out. I was almost happy to have you and the little álfr on the voyage, because I finally had the opportunity to threaten someone in Allyson's language."

"You did not seem very happy to have us there," Jack pointed out. "I remember a scrawny little thing pouting at the rudder, disappointed that Olaf stopped paying you attention in favor of little Lucy." It was easy to poke fun at the situation now that it was close to a decade ago. Jack did not think it something to joke about at all, at the time. He had been terrified for his life, surrounded by pirates and slavers and a grey-eyed boy intent on harming or killing him and his sister.

"Is that how you remember me, truly?"

Jack tried not to smile. It was always pleasing to have Thorgil hanging off of his words. He liked it when she wanted to talk, instead of sparring (with weapons or words), or just simply knocking him over the head to 'see what he would do'. "For a bite of that apple, and your response, I'll tell you my first impression."

Thorgil passed him the apple, saying, "I should have asked this before. I am truly curious."

"Are you?" Jack asked. "Which first impression would you like to hear?: When I first saw you , and you tackled my six year old sister into hard-packed dirt, or when I saw you on the drekar?"

"The second one," Thorgil requested. "And I did not tackle her! I put a knife to her throat. My heart-father did the tackling."

"And that is much better," Jack said, trying not to roll his eyes. "When I first saw you on the ship, after I recovered from puking over the side of the ship…" He bit into the apple. "I saw you and thought 'what a sullen boy!' and then I realized you were the one who captured Lucy. And then I wanted to kill you."

"There is more than that, surely!"

"Is there?"

"I can tell! I was many things when I was twelve, and sullen was not the only thing. Let me hear it. The whole truth, else I take back my apple."

Jack replied to that by taking a huge bite out of the fruit. "Well," he said, letting the food roll around in his mouth. "The whole truth is that I thought you were rather handsome, but in need of a nice bath. You had a greasy leather cap on, I remember, and it made your hair hang down in strings. And you smelled like damp sheep."

"I am quite good looking," Thorgil said. "Thank you for noticing."

"Is that really the only thing you got from that?"

The shieldmaiden didn't respond, instead saying, "My turn!" She pointed at Jack. "I thought you were scrawny, and your curly hair was strange to my eyes. Olaf carried you back to the ship over his shoulders, and you moaned after every sudden movement. I thought you quite weak. I hated you, and then somewhere in Jotunheim I just stopped. You sang my heart-father into his death. I think it was when you threatened to bash me in the head with a rock when I began to respect you."

Of course a threat on her life would make Thorgil enjoy my presence, thought Jack. Northmen are strange folk. "And what do you think now?"

Thorgil considered that for a moment. "You are not weak, at least in the mind. Your arms are still skinny. I am glad we are friends."

"I feel the same way," Jack smiled. Or perhaps he felt a little bit more, but that was his business wasn't it? "Is that the last heartfelt thing you say to me for the next year or so?"

"You can count on it," Thorgil grinned wolfishly, not even flinching when Jack threw the apple core at her. "I'm going to learn how to curse in Latin. Have fun with the rudder, blíðr."

He did not have fun at the rudder. The novelty of (somewhat) sailing quickly wore off as his arms got tired from being in the same position for hours. He appreciated the term of endearment from Thorgil, though. It was rather sweet of her, but the effect was ruined when he heard her shouting (presumably dirty) Latin from the other end of the ship. By the end of his time at the rudder, the sun was going down in the West, and the crew was settling down to eat their evening meal. The crew was not all Northmen, so there was a steady buzz of conversation as the men ate. Thorgil sat by Jack and Loni, but did not speak. She had a pleased smile on her face as the crew let out burbles and hisses and trills and caws that Jack interpreted as rather filthy insults. Thorgil was given a gift, the creatures of the air talked freely with her, and she used her skill to teach grown men curse words. Jack wasn't sure what else he could have expected from his friend.

Jack cast out his mind to the swirls and eddies of the life force around him. As the years went by, he found himself being able to immerse himself better and better. Oftentimes, he could find himself slipping in without even trying. When he was calm, he just found himself being embraced by the calming warmth of moving life all around him.

With this development, this familiarity with the life force, Jack also found himself being able to reach out to the powers around him in times of stress. Such as when they were two weeks into their voyage, and a fierce storm tossed Loni's ships between the waves.

Loni walked with his head bowed to the bow of the ship, where Jack was gritting his teeth, his arms shaking with the effort of keeping the rudder steady. St. Columba's staff was laying across his knees. Thorgil was feverishly bailing water out next to him, cursing richly whenever salt water got into her eyes. Everyone on the ship was drenched with rain and ocean water alike. Men were moving quickly on the ship, taking down the sail, wrenching their oars out of water and into the boat. Many were like Thorgil, bailing out the ship with anything they had that could hold water. Some were rushing to cover the goods at the prow of the ship with oilskins, doing their best to keep things dry. Other men were just looking at the thrashing sea around them, clutching charms and talismans that hung from their necks.

Loni put a sturdy hand on Jack's shoulder, not commenting on the fact that the narrow shoulder was literally shaking with effort.

"Skald," the captain said. "Is there anything you can do to stop this storm?"

Jack looked up at the Northman, then snapped at Thorgil in Saxon, shouting "Róðor!".The two switched quickly, in practice with each other's movements after so long a time together. Thorgil threw the bucket to the deck, where it floated uselessly in the steadily rising bilge water. She sat down on the bench as Jack stood up, gripping his staff in shaking hands.

"Don't speak," Jack told Loni. "Go to the prow, and leave me here with Thorgil. I need quiet."

Loni walked as briskly as he could, following Jack's orders, and telling his men to hush.

"That's you too, Jill. Hush now."

Thorgil stuck out her jaw, keeping a tight hold on the rudder. The look on her face clearly said, 'Does it look like I feel like talking right now?' Or perhaps her angry expression was because Jack called her Jill.

Jack ignored the rain beating down on him, breathing deeply. He cleared his mind, as well as he could, and then suddenly the drumming rain was a secondary sensation. A feeling of weightlessness replaced it. It was more than feeling. It was… being. Jack felt almost nonexistent, being tossed between the battling wills of sea and sky, along with the life around him. He felt the creatures flitting about below him, smaller fish, skinny eels, and bigger things as well. Beings that had not been in the North Sea for thousands of years moved throughout the water, not actually creating movements, or ripples. Only their memories remained. Above Jack, there was no life. There was rolling energy, the sight of noise, the howling of the wind, and the smell of the heat that lightning cast off.

A chorus of many voices was around him, and Jack realized it was the voices of the rain, of the water coming down from the sky. He revelled in the sound, the reverberating feeling he felt deep within him. Every living thing on Earth needed water, and the water sang to the living things it nourished. The song was the soft drip off of a leaf in the midst of a dappled forest. It was the gurgling noise of a waterskin filling up. It was the pounding, the steady drumming that churned up mud and green things from the dry earth. It all came together in one song. The rain came from the clouds, from high heaven, the hard force of it coming from the harsh blowing of the winds from the East.

The wind.

Jack tore his mind away from the song that filled him up, calling him to life. He focused on the winds, instead. The first time he called the wind, he thought of the energy as a flock of birds, in everlasting flight. The winds swooped and soared, the sound of a million wings filled his ears and stirred in his gut.

Jack's first calling to the spirits of the winds also resulted in a waterspout, and the near-death of the entire company that was escaping from the land of the Light Elves. He showed a little more restraint than that, almost seven years later.

Come to me

Spirits of the air

Soaring on feathered wings

Ne'er to touch the ground

Come to me

And end the song fair

The storm that stings

The torrent all 'round

The rhyming would have sent Thorgil scoffing if she could hear it. She would have called Jack extravagant. To call to the life force, one only needed an honest request and a great deal of calm- or anger. Contrary to what many people thought, it did not take a book of spells or complicated runes to do magic. Those things aid in the final product, but ultimately they are not needed. One just needs a connection to life, and the emotions that come along with it.

Even so, Jack was fond of his music, and his poetry. So he rhymed.

He repeated the charm three times, clutching St. Columba's staff tightly in his hand. As he finished the incantation, he felt the wings of the air stir above him, joining the song of the rain. It was not howling, but more like a soft whistle through a chimney, or the rattling of reeds. The sound of wind filling a sail. Jack felt himself slipping, slipping out of the life force. His senses returned him to the gentle rolling of the ship. Yes, gentle.

The smell of salt was carried on the wind that drove the ship steadily towards Thorgil's homeland. Some of the men on the crew were relaxing on their rowing benches, oars pulled into their laps. Others bailed water, a never ending task. As still others checked on the goods the ship carried, the bilge water receded to a filthy inch that washed gently over everyone's boots.

Thorgil was looking at Jack when he turned around to catch her eye. She had a loose hold on the tiller, her hands scarred and altogether normal looking. Jack wondered if she ever missed having her silver hand, her wound sustained from fighting the Hound of Hel.

Her hand was windblown, and looked rough from all the seawater that had gotten into it. It was getting long. Short hair was a sign of thralldom, and since he had first known her, she had been steadily growing it out. It reached halfway down her back. Idly, he wondered how it would feel to run his fingers through it, to weave the long tresses into golden braids.

Then, Jack realized he was staring. He shook himself from his thoughts, and ignored Thorgil's smirk as he looked past her, to the stretch of sea they were leaving behind them.

"We are making good time," he said. "We should be in Skakki's halls in a few days, I would think."

"In two or three," Thorgil agreed. "I look forward to sleeping in an actual bed."

"And cooked food."

"And a bath," Thorgil said, longingly. Jack made a face at that. "You need one more than me." she accused.

"Just because I do not bathe every week does not mean I am dirty."

"Yes," she said. "Yes it does."

Jack chose to change the subject of the conversation. Instead of insulting Thorgil right back, he said, "I wonder if Skakki has grown any more."

"He will be the size of three Jacks."

"Maybe four, if he drinks too much beer."

"His belly will add a Pega or two to his size," Thorgil laughed. She then straightened up. "Jack, tell me how you calmed that storm."

Jack thanked the Lord, and whoever else was listening, for his sun browned skin. Thorgil wouldn't be able to see his blush as he stammered out his explanation, rhyme scheme and all.

A/N: Hi, I'm not dead! Just sort of being killed by all the courses I'm taking this semester. I hope everyone likes this chapter, and doesn't hate me too much for putting in an OC. Loni is the name of a dwarf in the Eddas, but we will just ignore that and pretend it is a name for any old Northman trader. Also, sorry if Jack's magic seems a little weird... I've never written a spell and I tried my best.

For the next chapter... we will see Skakki and some of Olaf's old crew on Horse Island! There will be more magic, some loud bird noises, and hopefully as much Northman religion and culture that I can squeeze in. I'm very happy with where this fic is going, even if no one is really sticking around to read it.
To PJO and Hobbit friends: I swear I am trying to update Deicide and DTIA... stay tuned, please.
As always, thank you for reading! Sorry for these long notes! A favorite or a review is always appreciated! Until next time :^)