Episode 27: Fear and Loathing

There was one Viking who did not feel much like cheering when Beurel the minstrel returned from his trial of manhood with the blood of a ferocious wolf smeared across his face... alive. He was almost heartened when at first the sun in his eyes concealed from him Beurel's unmistakable form, swaggering just behind Ivan as they emerged from under cover. Then his vision cleared, and his face fell.
He would have much preferred to see the midget alone survive. Though the blond rowman still bore the marks of a chafing rope round his neck and his voice was not quite back to its former clarity and depth, he respected Ivan for his courage, fortitude, and above all, ingenuity. Beurel was another matter. The rowman knew that he was duty bound to honor any man who withstood the trial. Nevertheless. He sat down sullenly as cheers erupted from his fellow Vikings, and he continued to sharpen his weapon as he watched the victorious other man disappear to have honors bestowed upon him and the blood cleaned off.

While Trout and Ivan were running naked in the woods and slaying wolves the previous day, Jnii was going through her own, equally lethal rite of passage. She found herself, briefly, in a sewing circle. Before this excruciating turn of events, things at camp were beyond dull. The Vikings were good at occupying themselves with menial tasks, but not as good at occupying guests with non-menial tasks. Euphrasia, not quite recovered yet from her injury, seemed happy enough to rest with Gareth and the sleeping Dool by the shore of the Velais all day. Jnii, on the other hand, was a permanently restless sort and had been since childhood. Because she could not repair mail, sew sails, or lift her own body weight, there was little she could do around camp. There was also no one with whom she cared to converse, since all the men were busy and there were only beasts, brownie-sized magicians, Euphrasia, and village women in the general vicinity. Jnii liked women well enough--after all, she was one of them--but drew the line at actively seeking them out for conversation. So the young girl occupied herself for most of that morning in walking the grounds.

Her first mistake was in wandering into the forest. She found a path there and followed it for a half-mile, until she turned a corner by a cliff of rock and came upon a small cottage. Jnii stopped short and began to turn, but found her arm stuck in something that turned out to be a village woman's hand. The woman, smiling all the time, and not listening to Jnii's protests, dragged her into the cottage, where Jnii was faced with nothing short of pure hell.

The sewing circle was comprised of six women, of varying ages, all of them with smiles plastered over their faces. A half-completed quilt lay across each of their laps. Jnii cried out to them that she was not a good seamstress, but "Nonsense!" they all cried in unison, pushing her into an empty seat and handing her a needle.
"We needed an extra hand for this one," one of them said, smiling.
Another one, smiling, said, "It's lucky you came along!"
But after a few moments, when Jnii had calmed and begun to work, hating everything, each of the six women began to cast worried glances over at her hands as she clumsily stitched patch to patch.

It was undeniably true. Jnii was no seamstress. Her mother tried to teach her the domestic arts when she was a younger girl; she gave Jnii the simple task of hemming her skirts and darning her father's socks. Even this, Jnii botched. In her teen years, Jnii's attempts to stitch together her own clothes were failures as well, and her dresses were in danger of falling apart all around her at the slightest bend of the waist. Her mother considered the petticoat a kind of armor against intrusions of the male kind, and desperate, she insisted on mending her daughter's clothing herself. Good stitching would keep her daughter good, the poor, mistaken woman thought.

As Jnii randomly poked her needle through bits of fabric, her mind wandered to Trout. She was suddenly filled with regret, sitting there among these soulless women, and wondered if it had been a mistake to send her lover to his certain doom.
"Er," one of the sewing circle said, her smile fading as she watched Jnii, "you're one of the Viking company, aren't you?"
"Yes, I am," Jnii said dreamily, staring at the fireplace.
"Oh! And those two going on their rite of passage!" another woman cried out, seemingly delighted with the whole thing.
Jnii shivered slightly.
"Well," another of the circle said quietly, "that wolf was ferocious enough. I was there. I saw."
The youngest of them giggled. "Oh, but they'll have quite a time of it with Jared's cat!" And she giggled again. The others shushed her and looked at Jnii nervously.
It took a few moments for this to sink in. When Jnii realized what they were referring to, her head buzzed. Jared's CAT? The very thought that Trout might NOT be in danger (or, at least, might only be in danger of being killed by one, rather than two, beasts) sent her into a rage. She poked her thumb with her needle accidentally, and she sat with it in her mouth. How dare he? How dare he make her conscience guilty when he was probably living it up all naked in the woods, having all the fun?
At that moment, a great howl rose up in the trees. It was the wolf.
The women of the sewing circle all leapt to their feet.
"They can't come this close to the cottage, can they?" one of them cried.
"Of course not," another answered. "Don't be a stupid shit."
The six of them left their chairs and crowded around the open door, looking out into the trees as if they expected to see something there. Jnii, seeing her chance, rushed to the window and dove out, with little regard for her own personal safety. Now she found herself rolling down a hill. As Jnii made her descent, getting nicked with twigs and covered in leaves, something snapped inside her. Something very rageful. By the time she reached the bottom of the hill, Jnii was determined to leave Trout.

"I'll never see him again!" she said to herself as she stomped away into the woods, removing pieces of leaves from her hair. "I'm done with him forever!" She did not consider that their parting might not be voluntary, but a result of his untimely demise.
Jnii was filled with a sense of betrayal. She was insulted; she felt abused. In short, she was blaming Trout for everything that she had done to him and feeling everything that he should have been feeling about her at that moment. At that moment, however, Trout was tossing Ivan across a large chasm and feeling rather good about himself.

It was late in the afternoon before Jnii found the trail back to camp. She trudged along, hot and annoyed, and came to the edge of the treeline. A rustling made her stop and peer into the shadowy underbrush. The hacking sound of a man clearing his throat just behind her made her jump and spin around.

Standing there, by a tree at the very edge of the woods, was the blond rowman, his exposed neck a little raw where the rope had choked him.
"Oh, perfect," Jnii thought. "He's going to kill me."

But the blond rowman did not want revenge. He stared hard at Jnii from underneath his mop of blond hair, as he was wont to do, and handed her a tiny bouquet of blue wild flowers.
"Oh," Jnii said, hoarsely, "uh... thank you! How... nice."
He nodded his head at her, cracked a very brief smile, and then strode away to continue his work. Jnii also emerged from the trees, watching him go off to his fellows by the river.
She stumbled back to her companions' campfire, completely mystified, clutching to the flowers. Gudmund was sitting on his haunches near to Euphrasia, and he looked up and saw them in her hands.
"Ah, you!" he said. "We were all wondering where you'd gone to."
"Yes," Jnii replied. "I was in a sewing circle."
There was a short but uncomfortable pause as the Viking, Euphrasia, and Gareth all looked at her with curiosity.
"Well, em, I see Oleg found you," Gudmund continued.
"Oleg?"
Gudmund pointed to the blond rowman, who somehow felt their eyes on him and turned to look.
"Oleg," Gudmund said, nodding. "I had meant to say something to you before, but you ran off. And I forgot. That is Oleg."
Jnii looked down at the flowers. "Well, this was nice of him." She was getting nervous.
"Oleg has asked me if he can have you."
Jnii was startled. "Was he going to ask me?"
Gudmund looked at her quizzically. "Why would he do that?" There was an awkward pause. He shrugged. "Anyway, he means if Beurel dies in the trial."
The thought of Trout dying sent a wave of panic through Jnii's being, in spite of her previous resolve to kill him herself. She drew herself up.
"Sir, I cannot be another man's woman, I will not be another man's woman. Even if Beurel should fall--"
"You could do worse. Oleg's a fine rowman, strong as ten oxen." Gudmund pointed with his knife to Oleg, who was singlehandedly hauling a massive heavy chest, his blond hair falling over his eyes again, his biceps bulging.
Jnii glanced over and then turned back to Gudmund, reddening a little.
"Of course, there is the future to think about," she said. "I can't always count on Beurel to be--"
"You must think of protecting yourself, supporting yourself. Who better than Oleg, if not Beurel?" Gudmund cleared his throat again. "Leif's a little sore about it, but then Leif doesn't want to, ahem, marry you."
"Marry--"
"Aye, we all think Oleg's a little crazy. Dozens of nice, pure, Northern girls back in our homeland, and he has never wanted any for his wife. Then he goes mad with passion for a dancer already sullied!" Gudmund snorted, then looked at Jnii from the corner of his eye.
"No offense."
Jnii did not respond. She looked over at Oleg to find him still busy with ropes and heavy objects, but Leif was standing near him, grinning at her from ear to ear. She colored and smiled back quickly, looking away.
"You'll like Oleg. He's very gentle," Gudmund added.
A smashing sound made Jnii turn again. Oleg had a monstrous axe in one hand, bits of wood strewn out all around him. He looked over at Jnii, raked his arm over his brow, and smiled shyly at her. She straightened, smiled back, and met his gaze for as long as it took her to realize that Gudmund spoke with a great deal of surety.
"Wait, what makes you think Beurel won't return?" she asked in alarm.
Gudmund just looked at her.

Of course, Trout did return, and in triumph. And with Trout's return, Jnii forgot for a time about her resolve to leave him, and the blond rowman, Oleg, was denied his bride.

They were readying themselves and the ship for the journey northwards the morning after the trial was finished. Ivan sat near his wolf skin, which lay stretched and smelling across a wire between two trees near the dock.
"Have they not cleaned it yet?" someone said behind him.
It was Oleg. He slapped the skin slightly and wrinkled his nose. "Fwah!" he exclaimed. "It stinks of rot!"
Ivan watched him, warily, and fingered the sharp arrowhead he held in his left hand. He knew someone would come to take his skin.
Oleg turned and saw that wild look in the boy's eyes.
"There's no quarrel between us, is there?" the Viking said.
All of Ivan's muscles tensed as Oleg stepped forward. The Viking stopped and gave him a curious look.
"No bad feelings about how Grom hung you over the side of the ship on account of me, eh?" he said. "After all, you did hang me up by the crow's nest." Oleg laughed heartily. "I think I got the worse part of the bargain. I've never known such pain. Good work."
Ivan still did not speak. Oleg scratched his head and then pointed his thumb at the skin.
"I'll clean that for you. Done it a thousand times. I have a bear skin at home, head attached. I killed it myself, on the ice."
This piqued Ivan's interest, but he only betrayed a slight twinkle in his eye. Oleg was sharp, a trait evidenced by how quickly he caught onto Ivan's earlier plans to steal his belongings and then maim him... though at that particular time, he was a little too late. Oleg caught the boy's interested gleam.
The Viking stepped closer to Ivan and knelt down in the dirt.
"And when we get to our homeland..." Oleg paused and thought. "... yes... I'll give you my bear skin. It's yours."
Ivan drew back a little.
"Just... put in a good word with your friend."
"Trout?"
Oleg now was the one to draw back and look in confusion.
"No. Jnii. Who's Trout?"
"Oh... that's just something we call Jnii. I don't know why."
Ivan averted his eyes and rocked back and forth on his sit bone. Oleg seemed a bit concerned by this latest piece of news and was about to comment when the real Trout came up and merrily thrust his hands onto his hips and forced a loud laugh.
"Well, it's a fine day, is it not?" Trout exclaimed.
"I've seen better," Oleg said and started to scowl. He caught the scowl in time, however, and stared back at Trout with a slightly curled lip and a surprised look on his face.
Trout's smile froze as he returned the Viking's stare. "Well," Oleg continued, "I'd best get to work. You, Ivan, be sure to remember your wolf and bring him aboard. I'd best get going. Uh, are we agreed, Ivan?"
Ivan nodded.
Oleg shot a dark look at Trout and stalked off towards the gangplank. Trout's smile remained frozen on his face as he rolled his eyes over to Ivan and said, through his clenched teeth, "What was that about?"
Ivan shrugged. "Beats me, G.T."
Trout looked at the boy suspiciously. The midget was up to something, he thought to himself. (Since that first lie he told the Vikings about Ivan, it was becoming increasingly easier and more entertaining for Trout to think of Ivan as more of a midget than a child.)
"You know what's in for you if I find out you're lying?"
Ivan got up and started to pull his wolf skin off the wire. "I dunno, he wants me to talk about him to Jnii or something."
"O-ho! Oh, does he?" Trout folded his arms and looked back at their Viking compatriots on the dock, loading the smaller boats that would transport them back to the longship. "These Vikings sure are hard-up, aren't they? They sure are--" He saw Jnii run up to the dock. "--hard. Up." He saw Oleg rather awkwardly bow his head to her and say something with a smile. "They sure... are... I'll be back."

As Trout hurried over to the dock, Ivan looked after him wonderingly. Sure, Ivan liked Jnii well enough (as much as he ever liked any girl), but he didn't understand why men went crazy around her. The fact was, Ivan didn't know the half of it. Jnii herself was wholly mystified by her power. A couple years before, when Ingram Black's three eldest brothers, Silas, Jeebus, and Croat, returned from their military service, they decided simultaneously that each was madly infatuated with her. Most of those summer months were spent in separating the brothers and trying to avoid spilt blood. This was no fun for Jnii at all, and in fact very boring. In the end, the Black brothers decided they weren't in love with her after all. They returned north to the city, closer to each other than ever, and Jnii was left alone, unsatisfied, and with a hole in the wall next to her window. Jnii tried to tell her father that the hole was made by rats, tall ones, but Falti seemed unconvinced.

Mostly the farmer's doubts stemmed from the small chalk message written on the outer wall, a message of which Jnii was unaware, that said, "JEEBUS WAS HERE." In truth, Silas had written this in a vain attempt to create a diversion, to get Croat to fight with Jeebus so that Silas could slip away and visit Jnii in her room. The hole was made when Croat and Jeebus found Silas climbing into her window and decided to put his head through the wall instead. Falti was a heavy sleeper.

Trout hurried over to the dock, but Oleg had already left Jnii's side. In truth, all the young Viking had said to her was, "A fine day, is it not, Miss Jnii," with a great deal of softness and meaning in his eyes, but a quick, stern look from a disapproving Gudmund had made Oleg turn on his heels and get to packing a boat with crates.
"Oh! Tr--Beurel!" Jnii cried as she spun around, blushing, when he tapped her lightly on the shoulder. "I didn't know you were there!"
"I've been writing a song," Trout said with a majestic sweep of his arm and a quick tilt of his magnificent hat. When his hand was free, he used it to grab the girl's arm and pull her to the other side of the dock. "It's about the fickleness of womankind and their betrayal of man."
Jnii wrinkled her nose and put a hand on Trout's arm in an effort to be placating. "I'm sorry about that, Leer," she said in her softest, most penitent voice. "I really didn't know how dangerous it would be." He didn't catch the menace in her tone.
But Trout was hardly softened. "Right. Well, next time you want to kill me, just, you know--" He pulled a dagger from his boot and handed it to her, handle first.
"Oh, Trout..."
"I could slap you dead."
She smiled. "Men are just as changeable as women. One minute you're threatening to beat me, the next minute you're singing to me about falling in love."
"No, the singing doesn't count. I -- I don't really remember much about that. That was a weird night."
"It was, wasn't it?"
"Yeah, I have my theories about it. Anyway, if you don't want me to leave you in the northlands, you better not gleefully sign off my life again. Also, no tumbles with the Vikings. I'm serious. Stop smiling. Stop it."
Both had forgotten about the dagger still held in Jnii's clenched fist, and at this tenderest of moments, Trout drew her to him a little roughly and, before their lips could even brush, found himself slightly stabbed in the side.

By midnight, the sails caught a breeze, and the longship sailed, and the rowmen rested at their posts. Below deck, Jnii and Euphrasia lay against Gareth's soft fur as the beast slumbered and made great, rumbling purring noises. Ivan slept in his corner. Trout lay supine on a cot near the ladder to the deck, but for some reason he found he couldn't close his eyes.
Literally. His eyelids would not close. Also, everything in the room was vibrating and the ceiling was getting lower. The thief slowly crept his hand down to his side, where Jnii had bandaged up his wound, which was not very deep. But Trout was sure that it was pulsing.

With a low whimper, he struggled upright and began to crawl for the ladder. Only Ivan was awakened by the small scuffling noises Trout now made. The boy sat up and watched in awe as the older man hung onto the ladder and swayed side to side as if being pitched around by the ship's movement. With difficulty, Trout pulled himself onto the ladder.
"Ship ho!" came a faint cry from the crow's nest above deck.
Ivan got up, careful not to make a sound, and peered through the half-light at Trout climbing the ladder.

Another longship had been spotted in the waters. Gudmund was awake, and he stood at the side of the ship, holding onto the railing and calling out to the other ship. The responses were too faint for Trout to hear from where he now lay at the top of the ladder. Nearby, with his arms slung over the massive oar before him, Oleg opened up his eyes and stoically watched the other man fall back and stare up at the night sky, breathing heavily.
"By the--By the--" Trout whispered, gasping.
All Trout wanted was to get out of that infernal basement where the ceiling threatened to close him in. All he wanted was to get out into the open--
"Who's your chief?" Gudmund could be heard shouting to the other ship.
--but now even the stars began to twinkle too brightly, and Trout had to shield his eyes. He gasped as they started to come closer, growing as large as flaming balls of lava. Trout turned his face to the ground and began to cry. Oleg still watched him, not moving an inch, the only awake one to even notice Trout's presence.
It was then that Trout's mind cleared and he heard Gudmund laugh uproariously and shout, "Ah-ha! Bless my soul! Ulf Grothek!"
Trout looked up with alarm and heard the faint echo of a familiar voice say, "I thought you were dead, Gudmund Polchek!"
"Oh crap!" Trout whimpered and started to scramble back to the ladder. "Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap."
Oleg watched this with furrowed brow.
The chicken thief did not even bother to get his legs to work. He let himself tumble down the shaft below deck, making quite a racket and giving himself a smarting pain in the head.
All his human companions woke with a start and jumped to their feet. All except Ivan, who was already awake and standing near the ladder when Trout came tumbling down on top of him.
"Get him off me!" Ivan's muffled screaming could be heard from under Trout's flailing, lanky frame. Trout rolled off, but seemed not to heed the boy.
Gareth got up off his haunches and made a low squawk.
"What goes on here?" the bird-beast whispered.
Trout made some insensible noises and scrambled on all fours to Jnii, whose skirts he now clutched to.
"Trout!" Jnii whispered harshly, scared out of her wits. "Trout, stop! You're making too much noise! What the bloody hell's wrong with you?"
"Jnii! The dagger--" Trout stammered, "the dagger! Where is it. Give it me! Give it me!"
Euphrasia put a hand on Jnii's shoulder. "Don't give it to him," the sorceress said.
"Like I'd give a raving man a weapon!" Jnii cried. "I already stabbed him today, kind of. He might be looking for reven--"
"Give it me!" Trout bellowed.
Trout's bloodshot eyes fell on the unmistakable handle of his dagger, lying near where Jnii had been sleeping. He scrambled forward, and before Jnii could leap back herself and steal it, he had it in his hands. Trout shivered with triumph. He brought the dagger up to his face, but his hands shook.
"Jnii!" he said, holding out the dagger to her. "Do something! Cut me... or something! He can't see my face!"
"What?!"
Trout closed his eyes and tried to speak slower so that she would understand. "There is a mad viking thing coming aboard this ship that will tear my face off with the ease with which a bear peels a banana, and I am very fond of my banana! Jnii! Cut me!"
Jnii, Euphrasia, Ivan, and Gareth all stared at the man, dumbfounded. His eyes were red and raving, his shoulders twitching. Trout had most certainly gone insane. Ivan was the first to speak.
"G.T., are you feeling all right?" he said.
Trout let his arms down, and the dagger fell to the ground. "No!" he whispered hoarsely. "I believe a fairy has drugged me!" This seemed to stir his mind somewhat, because he flinched and turned his eyes on Euphrasia. "You!" he rasped with a sharp point in her direction. The sorceress, alarmed, took a step backward. "You're the fairy!"
"Fairy!" Euphrasia echoed.
Trout got to his feet with difficulty and slowly advanced. "You drugged me!" he said.
Jnii furrowed her brows and looked at Euphrasia. "Did you drug him?"
The sorceress tried to remain dignified. "Of course I didn't--I didn't drug you. I gave you a sedative, and that's--that's all. A sedative for the pain!"
Trout smiled grimly and continued to advance as Euphrasia backed away. "I knew it! You're always mixing up those little potions with your sticks and your bowls and your wrists. All those stews. I always knew you were drugging us, you little fairy. Drugging us and making us sing and dance as if we were your little puppets!" He beat the palm of his hand into his chest. "I am a man! I do not sing and dance and puppet!"
"You were a minstrel at the time," the sorceress said in a venomous tone.
"I do not sing and dance like that! I do not spout of love to little bawds! Why--" Here Trout looked at Jnii and fell to his knees at her side, grabbing her skirts again. "Oh, I love--Ah!" He fell back onto the floor and beat his head with his hands. "I am a man! I am a man!"
And now Trout continued to repeat this in a low whimper while his companions retreated a few feet away to hold a whispered council.
"What did you give him?" Jnii hissed at Euphrasia.
"Nothing that could cause this kind of reaction. I don't know what he's suffering from." The sorceress paused and glanced over at him. "He's gone insane."
"Is everything all right down there?" a voice said from atop the ladder.
Jnii ran to the opening and looked up. "Oh, hello, Oleg!" she said, cheerfully. "Ivan just had a nightmare. He's been screaming a little, but he'll be all right."
"The effects should wear off with time," Euphrasia added in a quick whisper to Gareth and Ivan. "But who would slip Beurel such a drug?"
Oleg smiled down at Jnii. "Well, if you should need anything, just ask. We are all awake and rejoicing up here, for Ulf Grothek is with us!"
This announcement made Trout curl up into a tighter ball and cover his head in his arms.
"They're going... to kill me!" he said in a muffled whine from the crook of his arm.
Oleg disappeared, and Jnii looked back at the pitiful Trout.
"We need to help him," she said to the others. "He's terrified. I think he's terrified of Ulf Grothek." She paused. "Hold on," she said, and tiptoed up to Trout. "Ulf Grothek," she said in a loud voice near Trout's ear. He jumped. Jnii turned around in triumph and nodded.
Ivan glanced up the ladder to see the corner of someone's foot there. Oleg had not left, as he had appeared to. He was spying on them. Ivan decided to take advantage of the moment.
"You know," he said loudly. Everyone turned to look at him, a little shocked. "That Oleg is a nice guy, isn't he?"
Silence.
"What?" Jnii was the first to say.
"He's a nice guy. Coming to check up on us like that. Check up on--me."
Everyone's eyes but Trout's went up to the open hatch. Distracted as they were, they didn't notice Trout leap to his feet, darting his eyes around like a hunted animal. From somewhere on deck, there came a loud, raspy laugh. Trout screamed. He ran for the ladder.
"Catch him!" Jnii cried, but it was too late.
Trout scampered up the ladder, with Jnii close behind him.

The vikings heard some screams, followed by the minstrel and his dancing woman falling out onto the deck. Ulf Grothek smiled with bemusement and looked to Gudmund for an explanation, but Gudmund looked as amazed as he did. The minstrel ran for the side of the ship and made as if to jump overboard, but luckily Oleg had been very near to the hatch below-deck, and he grabbed the minstrel before any such foolish attempt could be made. The blond rowman held to the minstrel fast.
"Thank you, Oleg!" Jnii gasped. He smiled and nodded to her, pushing his elbow into Trout's wounded side, away from her sight. Trout winced and cried.
Gudmund laughed. "Ah! Ha! Well... it looks like our minstrel has been overdoing it with the drink! Ha!"
By this time, Ivan and Euphrasia were above deck as well, leaving Gareth below.
The Vikings, including Oleg, laughed heartily, though the blond rowman showed more teeth.
Ulf Grothek, however, had turned deadly pale.
"Asgrim?" he cried.
The laughing stopped, and Oleg, in shock, let go of Trout.

Trout, as white as a sheet and sweating profusely, giggled. "Well... uh. Greetings! Ulf."

And he dove for the side of the ship. Oleg's arm shot out and caught the minstrel by his shirt.

"Asgrim!" Ulf Grothek said again, taking a few steps nearer. "You're supposed to be dead!"
Oleg let go of him again. "He's not dead is he?" the rowman said, blessing himself with a sign against the devil.
"He doesn't look dead to me," Ulf replied, his face darkening.
Gudmund cleared his throat. "He, uh, told us his name was Beurel."
It was decided, then and there, that the only recourse was to take Asgrim the Lanky back onto Ulf Grothek's ship. And so Oleg again seized the minstrel, and two of Ulf's men grabbed his flailing legs, and the three Vikings carried him, protesting loudly, towards the boat that would bring him back to Ulf's ship.
Jnii was unable to follow anything that had just gone on -- in fact, none in her company quite knew what their minstrel was in trouble for now -- but she cried out in a shrill voice, "Wait!"
The Vikings paused, and Trout stopped screaming and looked back at her.
"Wait!" she cried and ran for him.
The Vikings let him stand on his own two feet, and Trout looked at Jnii wonderingly as she threw her arms around his neck. She pressed her lips to his for as long as she could before one of Ulf's men gently pulled her back.
Trout, for a moment, was confused. As was Jnii. They stared at each other for a moment as the Vikings once again started pulling him towards the side of the ship. And then Trout started screaming.

"No!" he shouted. "No! This can't happen now! Not now!"
Jnii stared, in shock, putting her hands up to her face gingerly. "Oh fuck," she whispered.
Oleg was nearby. As Trout and Ulf's men disappeared, he put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry, Miss Jnii," he said, softly. "I'll take care of you while he's gone. I'll take care of you so good."
And Trout, once again trapped in Jnii's body, replied with a short, "Yeah."