"You, you’re the southerner who wanted to see the dog?”
Gwetheril nearly jumped at the loud and booming voice of Hannu, who, contrary to many of the more reserved Lossoth did nothing without boisterous intensity. She smiled, subconsciously rubbing her arm as she remembered how he had yanked her into a swirling exuberant dance at the festivities the night before. Not that she minded.
He apparently had not forgotten either and broke out into a grin, “Ah yes! And do not feel bad about the dancing. You can learn!”
Well, she hadn’t felt bad about the dancing until then! Although it had been all she could do to stay upright with the way he whirled her around.
She nodded her head, “Thank you? But yes, my friend had mentioned a pup that might not be suited for the sled teams?”
“Yes yes, the lady with the white wolf. But come, you will like the dog I think. But we must see if the dog likes you. I think so, but we must see.”
Gwetheril smiled and got up to follow. As they reached the edge of the village, Hannu shouted something in the Lossoth language, and another man Gwetheril did not know emerged, holding a squirming puppy.
The unfamiliar man eyed her, taking an uncomfortably long moment before he turned and said something to Hannu. Hannu turned toward her and translated, “He wants to know if you’re the one who caught the other pup.” He pointed to where that troublesome puppy now played with her fellows, looking fortunately in no current danger of bolting into the wilderness.
“I went with some of the others to find her, yes,” It had been Emlineth and Enniliel that had been the most helpful with finding and coaxing the dog to return, but Gwetheril supposed she had at least been present.
He released the puppy, who stayed behind the man’s legs, watching the strange woman, with one eye of blue glinting in curiosity. The other was clouded and unfocused.
Hannu laughed his roaring laugh and squatted down, patting his leg for the dog who ran to him. He then gestured at Gwetheril to come closer, “This ones a mite shy, but he’ll get used to you.”
And indeed, reassured by the two Lossoth men, it did not take very long before his tail was wagging with such fervour that his entire body joined the wagging excitement.
Hannu stood, leaving the dog to get acquainted with Gwetheril while the two men conversed. After a brief conversation Hannu returned to Gwetheril, “Seeing new things will help this one not be too afraid. He will do well if you teach him well. But don’t worry, I’ll teach you to teach him. What will you call him?”
Gwetheril thought for a moment, and thought of the lights that streamed in the night sky of this pup’s native land, “Forchalad.”
Later that night she sat by the fire, woman and dog both tired from the day's activities. Before she knew it found herself speaking. The dog looked up at her voice, “I wonder how you will like greener lands, trees and grass and flowers bright. And the sea—I have all my life heard stories of the waves. And the Elves—I wonder, what will you make of the Elves?”
As the dog seemed to like the cadence of her speech, she recited a section from an old lay about a sailor of the Faithful fleeing through tumultuous seas for Pelargir. Her mind steadied as she thought on the journey ahead.
She realised in that moment that the dread that had become habit over the last weeks had not made its presence known that whole afternoon. She felt strange and unanchored without it, but lighter too, and before it could claw its way back she fell asleep between the warmth of dog and fire.
