Storied By Josh

When the rains came heavy the sea would turn a tumultuous gray. It would raise up and twist itself as it tried to bring the boat into itself and there would be a little bit of fear in men. But unless it became very bad and the sea became very greedy against the boat the men would joke and laugh loudly. If it fought over the railing they would sing swear words against the ocean and life. If it became the worst they would become quiet with focus.

Lorth’s grandfather, Papa, told him he had only been in a situation like this three times. Twice the men were quiet and worked to keep the sea out of the boat in a terrific frenzy. Resolve turned to relief as the clouds finally broke.

The third time Lorth’s great uncle was drunk and cursed the moon and the sun and the waves and all the women and men of the world. The ship began to reel and lift. His brother quieted into silence.

The last time he saw his brother, he was fighting a roped sail. Then the ship rolled violently. As the sea swallowed the men around him he screamed for his brother. There was nothing but the shriek of the sjøen, mocking the terror.

When he told Lorth this story, his eyes teared up. His voice cracked, then stone.

Papa didn’t take Lorth fishing properly until Lorth turned ten. Papa said he was finally close enough to a man to learn the sea. Fishing was quickly becoming extinct now. The country decided it wanted fish from a different place, far away. It was cheaper. Sometimes Papa said unkind things against the country and then immediately asked forgiveness from the land.

Papa first taught Lorth to tie knots when Lorth was six. “Every good fisherman must know these knots.” His calloused hands ran over Lorth’s hands, popping sometimes as he flexed them. He manipulated Lorth’s tiny fingers to tie it correctly. Then he made Lorth tie again and again and again. The soreness crept up Lorth’s arms and they burned. Papa finally let him stop. “Tomorrow we will do it again.” Then he massaged Lorth’s hands. Sand paper on playdough.

Lorth had now been out to sea five times. Papa said he was fast becoming as good as his great uncle. “Just stay away from the drink, it causes evil.” Lorth had tried alcohol before, it made him feel warm and stupid and invulnerable. He listened.

This fifth time Papa said the ocean was probably too angry to find many fish. The village was in dire need of the fish however, so they trusted the gods to keep them safe and do their best to bring home food to the people. They had been fishing for four days.

The sea had been grumbling against the boat for a day. Papa said with any luck it would not decide to test their bravery. Lorth looked out over the bow and saw fins in the water splash against the surface. “Those are mermaids?” Lorth asked.

Papa smiled down through his beard as he fit a net. “No, those are great fish.”
Lorth nodded. “Gilt says mermaids are not to be trusted. Have you ever seen one?”
Papa looked at him for a moment. “Who is Gilt?”
“A boy from school.”
“Yes I have seen a mermaid.”
“Did they try to steal you into the ocean?”
“Our mermaids never do this. They warn us of dangers and trials ahead.”
“But aren’t they dangerous?” Lorth asked.
“Ja, but all great things are dangerous.” Papa replied. He put the nets down and motioned for Lorth to come sit beside him.

“I was a few summers older than you when I saw my first mermaid. She was more beautiful than the sea and looked so young, but as mermaids are, she must have been older than our village.”
“That is very old. Did she speak to you?”
“Yes.”
“What did she say?”

“This is something no man can explain to another. It is something only age can see.”
Lorth furrowed his brow at the non answer. “What did she look like?”
“Her hair was thick and stuck together like seaweed. She was freckled like a beach and her skin was soft ivory, like the tusks of a walrus. Her eyes were the sea.” Papa paused.

“She was sad you know.” He finally admitted.
“Why?”
“Because all mermaids are. They see the future and it makes them sad.”
“Why would seeing the future make them this way?” Lorth asked.
“Because they see it as we see the past. It is like a memory and they cannot change it, not even for themselves. They cannot force us to avoid it, so they watch us make the same mistakes and they wish they could change the world, but they are not allowed to. They are only allowed to warn.”
“Will I ever see the mermaids?”
“Maybe, but those times are almost over. If you do, it is because they allowed it.”

The boat rocked gently in the water. Lorth thought for a moment.
“Papa can I ask you a question?”
“Yes.”
“Did they tell you about…about Uncle?”
Papa looked away. Then quietly and forceful, “Yes.”
“Did you not tell him?”
“I tried.”
“I’m sorry.” Lorth touched his grandfather’s arm. Papa reached with his wrinkled hand and held Lorth’s.
They were still as the rest of the men began to pull the nets out of the water.

That evening the sea became angry. It smashed the boat this way and that way and Papa laughed with the other men. Lorth tried but he was too frightened. Papa’s beard was splashed with waves. His grandfather ordered him to begin pulling the sea out of the boat with a bucket.

Lorth did as he was bid to, only to have more pour back in. Lorth’s arms ached. The mast began to bend and Lorth was afraid it would break. He shouted to Papa and pointed.
“Do not fear, Lorth!” His grandfather called against the storm. “Fear will give it power!”
“I am not scared of the Shitty Boot’s storm!” Lorth shouted.

Papa and the men howled and laughed.
“Boys got balls of an ox!” One shouted.
“Same size as your mother’s,” Papa called back.

A wave smashed against Lorth and the cold sting of it caused him to gasp. He began to laugh at the pitifulness of trying to keep an ocean of water out of a tiny boat. Another wave drenched him through his clothes. “Hør meg, guder! Jeg har ingen frykt i magen! Den er full av sjøvann!”
The men shouted “Ja! Gutten er en mann og snakker!”

Just before dawn the sea became content that the men were brave enough to sail upon it. It settled into stillness. The light pierced across the sky as the sun rose, mirrored on a glass sea. Papa looked tired and Lorth’s arms burned to the bone. He was soaked but did not feel cold.

“Lorth, come to me.” Papa said from the bow. Lorth walked to him, his legs felt weak. “This is a good sign. You still have the spirit of the old men in you.”
“Papa, I am not afraid of this ocean now.”
“This is good. But you must always respect it.”
“Yes, Papa.”
“Go sit by one of the men and take a break, we will head home now. There are no fish today.”

A small group from the village greeted them at the shore as they always did when a boat came home from an angry sea. Lorth’s mother’s face relaxed when she saw the two of them cross the docks.
“Gods bless, you are home.” She said.
“Gods bless, we are home.” Papa replied. He hugged her warmly.

She pulled away and a smirk crept onto her lips. “No fish?”
“They were wise and avoided the angry waves.”
“What can my father be if he is not as wise as a small fish?”
“A donkey.”
Lorth couldn’t keep it in any longer. “I learned to not fear the ocean.” His mother looked at him and pulled him into her arms.

“We will slaughter a pig tonight.” Papa said. “It will be a feast for the lucky of the village.”
“Why is the village lucky if we caught no fish?” Lorth asked.
“Luck is not just about fish,” was all Papa replied.

They busied themselves offloading the boat after lunch. Lorth did anyway, as he eagerly walked back toward the shore he heard the loud sound of Papa’s peaceful snores.

The feast was a grand affair. Half of the village took part. Lorth saw Papa drink beer for the first time in years. He laughed with the other sailors and fishermen. Lorth’s mother gleamed with pride. He wasn’t sure if anyone else knew why they were celebrating, but it had been a long time since a feast had been thrown in the village and the people needed it. Big men with oak arms took turns shaking his hand. “I will call you ox,” one said to him.

Papa turned toward them and nodded toward the other man. “Good name.”

Lorth wrinkled his nose. “Better than Donkey. I guess.” Papa almost fell over from his guffaws.

Lorth’s mother rang the dinner bell. Papa called for a toast to the mighty sea, the land that sustained them and to the young who would carry the torch of the future. Late into the night the crowd dispersed to their own homes.

As Lorth lay in bed the day played again and again. His eyes became heavy. Shitty boot he thought to himself. The sound of the Sjøen slid him into sleep.