Finally, he and the youth he'd saved were ushered into a room with lots of shiny implements and asked to lie down on a bed each. They were then covered with blankets, much to Einarr's relief. A man in a white coat examined the youth, listened to his heart and asked him a number of questions. He gave his name as Gus. Angus. Einarr savored the name in his mind. He liked the sound of it. Just as his eyes appreciated the shock of red hair on the youth's head, and his skin, pale as the snow on his mountain.
The young man, Gus, looked warily at Einarr, as he told the doctor, “I must have slipped. One minute I was walking on the deck and the next I was in the water. I don't know how it happened. I only know if it hadn't been for this man,” he nodded toward Einarr, “I would have drowned.”
Even from the cursory glance Einarr had given the ship's railing when he'd been hoisted aboard, he could see no way you could slip over the side. The doctor had the same sceptical look. “And you were with him and jumped in to save your friend?” the doctor asked Einarr.
Gus interjected quickly, “I don't know this brave man. We've never met before. He must have heard me or seen me fall and dived in afterwards.”
Einarr was relieved because it would not do to tell this human that actually he had been expelled very rudely by the volcano god of Eyjafjallajokull, had hurtled miles into the atmosphere and had landed, very fortuitously indeed, right near the ship. He may have been a troll but he was quick-witted with it, unlike some of the others who gave all trolls a terrible reputation for stupidity. He had been fast enough to realize the humans on the boat had accepted that he was one of their kind, and that he had rescued Gus in a act of bravery. Well, he'd let them think that until he could get his bearings and then, under cover of darkness, make his way back home. He'd find a crevasse or cave to live in on the mountain until his home had cooled down and the insurance had covered renovation. Now was his opportunity to get that vibrant claret-colored quilt for his bed. Damn it! It was unlikely to still be in the store. He'd coveted it over a hundred years ago. It was as likely as not, crumbled away to dust now. He really did need to act on his impulses more quickly rather than let them slide.
“You'll be fine,” the doctor said to Gus. “A good night's rest should do the trick. I'll keep an eye on you for concussion. You may feel a bit stiff and sore from where you hit the water. But, no bones broken. Now, you foolhardy but brave man, let's see how you've fared.”
Einarr closed his eyes as he felt the doctor run his hands across his body. He knew there was no ulterior intent but just another living creature's touch set off sparks in his body.
“You are a fine looking specimen,” the doctor said as he examined just about every inch of him. “You'll be extremely popular with the men when you do your act. I look forward to seeing it as well. Just for tonight, though, I think the two of you should get some rest. Bed down here so I can pop in every few hours just to make sure you in particular Gus, are getting on all right.”
Gus mumbled something that Einarr did not quite hear and the doctor scowled before leaving the cabin with yet another comment about how much he was looking forward to seeing ‘the act.’ When he'd gone, Gus sat up although his head was spinning. He looked as if he were about to fall off the bunk but Einarr was beside him in a flash, laying him back gently.
“The doctor thinks I'll harm myself,” Gus said miserably. “That's why he wants you to stay here tonight with me.”
“Will you?” Einarr asked.
“No, I learned my lesson. I didn't know staring death in the face could be so scary.” Gus shuddered at the memory.
“Am I really that ugly?” Einarr, who had spoken mainly troll for past few millennia or so, except for the odd occasion when a scholar dropped in unexpectedly from the rim of Eyjafjallajokull, was unused to the ways of modern language. He didn't understand why Gus laughed.
“I thought you were an angel,” Gus's voice took on a dreamy quality. “You were the most beautiful man I had ever seen.” Einarr flushed as Gus checked him out again. “You still are.”
Einarr's smile would have lit up the entire ship if it could have been harnessed. His cock beamed too. And it was obvious because Einarr was now totally naked having been deprived of his torn underwear by the doctor during his examination. Gus stared at the erection that was bobbing just a few inches from his face. He could scarcely believe the size of this good-looking Adonis.
Einarr liked the young red-headed man, that much was blatantly obvious. He wondered why someone like that would want to end his life but he would worry about that later, right now he had to concentrate on the feelings that were racking his body, feelings so foreign he had experienced them only a few times since he'd taken up residence in the mountain. It was a troll's life to be without companionship and without pleasure, other than the solo kind, for their entire lifetime. And it was strictly forbidden to couple with humans. But he'd broken so many rules another wouldn't hurt, beginning with the fact both of them were male.
It was such heinous behavior trolls didn't even have a word for it although Einarr had met others who indulged in the practice through loneliness or boredom or drunkenness. He, on the other hand, had sought it out, accepting it as part of his nature. He wondered what the red-haired boy would do if he were to... but no, he couldn't think like that. He ran his hand through the salt-caked hair the color of fire, feeling the young man relax under his touch. He longed to wrap his arms around the vulnerable body, to keep it safe. But most of all, he wanted the feel of another warm body next to him. He had been denied it for too long. But he knew his advances would be unwelcome. Of course Gus said he was beautiful—it was the delirium speaking. He would have a very different reaction in the morning when he took a good look at his rescuer.
Einarr wasn't sure he could stand to see the look of pity on his face. He had to think. He had to get off the ship. There were a number of problems with that. He wasn't about to plunge into the icy depths of the Atlantic again; for a start he didn't know which way to swim. He could lower a life boat but again he didn't have his bearings and he most certainly did not want to be caught out in the open when the sun came out. He would be petrified, literally. His only recourse was to find a hiding place in the bowels of the ship, stay there until the vessel found port and then creep ashore. He just hoped that port would not be too far from his home.
Gus's gentle snore interrupted his thoughts as he caressed the boy one last time, leaning in to sniff him, to store his scent to add color to his future fantasies. With the recollection of his smell would come the vision of his face, and his pale body which excited him so. As if in confirmation, his prick began to swell again. He pulled the blanket up over the sleeping Gus and swept a recalcitrant strand of hairs from his eyes before going to the door of the cabin and letting himself out quietly. He knew Gus would be all right now. He had tried. And failed. It was a noble failure for it had taught him how precious his life was. He would not do it again.
In the passageway, Einarr had no idea which direction to take, standing indecisively until the sound of a cabin door opening spurred him in the opposite direction. He did not want to be seen and it would be very difficult to miss a giant naked troll walking about your passageway. But in fleeing one passenger, he rounded a corner and ran into another. A drunken young man was attempting to open his cabin door and having no success when Einarr almost fell over him. The young man was speechless, believing the troll to be his drunken fantasy. He reached out to touch what he believed was an apparition caused by a too plentiful consumption of booze. When his fingers touched flesh he didn't hesitate to move lower and wrap his hand around the magnificent cock that dangled half hard from below the washboard stomach. He was scared if he let go the stranger might disappear.
The feel of a warm hand around his privates, stroking him, transfixed Einarr. He was hard in no time and impatient to continue this very private encounter out of the public thoroughfare. But the drunken man was distracted, attempting to unlock the door of his cabin, Einarr grabbed the keys and expertly had the door open in no time at all. They almost fell into the cabin where the drunk sank to his knees and had Einarr's ample cock in his mouth before he could protest. As the stranger sucked expertly at his shaft and his balls, Einarr wondered why he had been intending to protest. He loved the feeling of a human mouth wrapped around his cock. He wondered why anything so pleasurable was so forbidden.
Then he remembered it was usually him who did the sucking, usually him down on his knees. When trolls came visiting, it was always Einarr who was on the receiving end. There was never any reciprocation but now a human male was pleasuring him with his mouth. He began to wonder if he was still asleep in his bed inside the mountain and this was all a very erotic dream that would result in him waking up all sticky so he had to wash himself with a cold flannel before he could get back to sleep.
Holding the back of the man's head he began to push his prick farther into his throat but he gagged and Einarr released him to let him set his own pace. The feeling was exquisite, no wonder trolls had taken to popping in unannounced at Einarr's for a bit of fun. He'd gotten a reputation for his skills. He wondered whether he was as good as the man on his knees sucking his balls dry. Perhaps he would get the chance to ask if they later traded positions.
It wasn't to be. When Einarr could hold off no longer, he shot great streams of sperm which the young man gulped down hungrily. When he'd sucked every drop out and even licked up the residue from the head of Einarr's prick, he rose unsteadily to his feet and flopped face down on his bunk. There would be no reciprocation tonight.
It would be good if he could find the galley for he realized he hadn't eaten in the past one hundred and fifty years except for that snack of fermented goat's head he got up for when he was feeling peckish about sixty years back. He stumbled along the quiet passageway, trying a few doors but they were always locked.
The law of averages was working in his favor because, eventually, he found a doorway that opened. There were no shrieks of surprise, no men sleeping in the bunks, no one to stop him from falling into the soft warm embrace of an empty bed, hunger forgotten, as he welcomed the embrace of sound sleep.
He awoke next morning with the arrival of Gus and the over familiar doctor, who had his hand rather provocatively placed on Gus's butt cheek. “Hello,” Gus said warmly. “I wondered where you'd wandered off to. I guess my snoring kept you awake and you found your way to our cabin.”
Something in Gus's eyes pleaded that Einarr support the story.
“No, not your snoring. I was hungry and I went looking for something to eat and got lost. I couldn't find my way back so I came here.” His stomach grumbled as if to confirm his story.
Gus, who had initially panicked when Einarr began his rambling story, looked visibly more relaxed by the time he finished it. “I'll order us some breakfast and then we better start rehearsals for tonight's show.”
“I'm looking forward to it tremendously. Angus promises it will be something special.” The doctor couldn't seem to get the smile off his face at the thought.
Einarr wished he knew what they were talking about.
Taking his leave, the doctor warned them to seek him out immediately if they became dizzy, disoriented or had a severe headache, in case they had concussion. It was still a possibility. When they were alone, Gus went straight to the small desk against one wall of the cabin. He turned to Einarr.
“Where is it?”
Einarr took the pages of notepaper from under his pillow. “You have really neat writing.”
Gus was flabbergasted. “You read it?”
“If you don't want people to read your suicide notes then you should hide them out of sight.”
Gus sank into the chair, putting his face in his hands.
“That Rob character must be some piece of work,” Einarr said.
“Oh, believe me, he is.” Gus was expecting ridicule, contempt, anything but concern.
“You followed him on to the cruise even though he told you it was all over?”
“Not exactly. The cruise was booked out so I had to find another way to get on board. I knew they were looking for entertainers and this being a gay cruise...”
Einarr looked puzzled. “Gay? That means the men on this ship...” he almost couldn't bring himself to say it the idea was so potent, “...like sex with other men?”
“Oh my god! You're straight!” Gus blurted out.
Trolls weren't considered the most intelligent of the universe's creatures, what with being asleep for hundreds of years at a time, meaning they were at a severe disadvantage when they awoke, language, history and the cost of a good podiatrist to curb those unruly toe and finger nails that kept growing in the interim, being totally foreign to them. The powers that be therefore decreed that they got a little extra cranial lobe with the ability to absorb a new culture with its attendant language skills as well as a workable knowledge of what had occurred in the intervening period while they were asleep. However, like a lot of things these days, it was a rushed job and was put to work before it had been adequately tested. Sometimes there were whole gaps in memory and recognition.
Einarr had to repeat the question it was so beyond his limited comprehension. “Everyone on this ship is gay?”
“I can't speak for the crew but the passengers, yes, they're either gay or bi.”
Einarr rubbed his hands with glee. “Smorgasbord.”
Gus didn't know whether to laugh or cry. One second he believed the man he was losing his heart to was straight. That was a disappointment he could live with it. A second later, he discovered he was gay, or at least bi, but his heart sank because he was also a slut.
Einarr had an idea. Hesitantly, he asked the question which was supremely important to him. “You, too?”
“Of course, me, too. What did you think Robert and I were doing? Playing Monopoly?” He would have to rethink his attraction to Einarr, the guy seemed to have a tentative link to reality. Perhaps it had something to do with English being his second language. Or with that body he was simply a Neanderthal. “Sorry. Yes, I'm gay.”