---

potential joining thread for dawnbreak!

and then, suddenly, torgar eivorsson was alone. no dagfinn. no mother. no mysterious father. he fed himself and slept alone. he looked for his brother, and climbed the stoneways back up to the cliff where he might look out over the sea.
this did not end his loneliness.
in the end, torgar set his jaw and retreated from the frozen woodland. he sought the strong borders beside which they had once passed, paused in the way of a drengr hefting his blade, and then called. he was young and his work would pay his way. torgar needed to stay in these lands in case dagfinn returned, and he did not want to wander alone any longer.

There was a call by her borders, and so Solulfur answered. Some things had not changed with the plague's concerning encroachment upon her mind's ever-churning schemes.

The snow was alight with sunlight, the wind a thing with fangs and muscle behind it today. The fra Nordri paid it little mind, and picked her way along the mountain's terrain with the catlike grace characteristic of her since her youth. The brightness of the day made it difficult to spot the stranger by the borders in any detail, until she was closer and within speaking distance.

A boy, timber-colored and muscular. He remained on the neutral side of the borders respectfully, which earned some modicum of approval from the Mediator as she looked him up and down. A twitch of her nose told her little thanks to the wind, but she didn't pick out the telltale signs of many wolves on his pelt. A loner, perhaps, but one so young? Unusual.

Solulfur halted a comfortable distance from the boy, offering him no softening of her features regardless of his age. He was not of Avon and so he was met with the same calculating regard she would offer most any stranger so close to her packlands, especially with their own pups within the territory to guard. You have arrived on the borders of Dawnbreak. I am Sólúlfur frá Norðri. State your business.

dagfinn. stupid dagfinn. in true impetuousness, torgar was just about to leave in impatience when a shadow shaped itself into a wolf and came smoothly over the stoney lope. he was immediately intimidated, especially when those sunspear eyes seemed to miss nothing. in true youth, torgar shrank just a little before recovering himself.
was he not a drengr? an accomplished explorer already? torgar's mouth opened, then belatedly, he realized she had spoken in words that felt — familiar? jeg er torgar eivorsson, (i am torgar eivorsson,) the young wolf offered first, experiencing a sense of surreality. had he and dagfinn passed this place? would they have found it had they not gone down to the sea? a sudden angered grief rose, clawing at torgar; he resisted its bite.
jeg er en kriger og en rejsende. men jeg ønsker ikke at rejse længere. jeg tilbyder mit arbejde til jarl'en på dette sted. (i am a warrior and a traveler. but i do not wish to travel any longer. i offer my work to the jarl of this place.)
having not stopped to ask at all if she understood his particular tongue, torgar stood quiet and hopeful now, feeling only a little pathetic and wishing very much that dagfinn would appear from nowhere.

---

so sorry for the wait! <3

The boy leapt straight into a speech, one in a tongue Solulfur didn't recognize - but neither did she entirely fail to understand what he was saying. Plenty was lost in translation, but if she focused on the words behind the boy's alarmingly soft, strange accent, she found she could parse some understanding. Verið velkomin, Torgar. (Welcome, Torgar) Solulfur offered first, tilting her head slightly as she turned her full focus to surmounting the language barrier.

Torgar wished to travel and fight no longer, instead offering his services to the...Jarl? of Dawnbreak. Some kind of word for king, she supposed. Sol shook her head slightly. Við höfum enga konunga. ( we have no kings) The Mediator turned from the young warrior, flicking her tail to beckon him across the borders to her side. Hérna gera allir sinn hlut. ( here, everyone does their share.) She did not know how much he would understand, but continued. Súlur okkar taka ákvarðanir með rödd allra. ( our Pillars make decisions with the voice of everyone)

---

no worries at all! <3

not the same! but not different! torgar almost sagged in relief; with manful effort he kept himself upright and nodded toward what the woman had said. sólúlfur spoke of a council, it seemed, and it pleased the young man that there were no kings to serve. she was kind enough to command the impulse of his immediate loyalty. jeg kan jage. jeg kan fiske, løbe. åh! jeg kan patruljere. bevogte grænserne. og jeg kan kæmpe. (i can hunt. i can fish, run. oh! i can patrol. guard the borders. and i can fight.)
torgar slid that last as if to sweeten, assuming that any camp would want some number of drengr. and, he reasoned, it was his favorite thing to practice. all other offered tasks would be carried out, of course, albeit with an internal dislike.
he was eager to eat and to sleep, almost singleminded with intent. torgar at once slipped to sólúlfur's side, relieved. filled with anticipation. jeg vil gøre alt, hvad der bliver bedt om, (i will do everything that is asked,) torgar murmured, turning his eyes on the woman's profile as if to commit it to thought.

The boy trotted after her, brightly listing his skills off one by one. The list was impressive - Torgar, it seemed, could do it all, his youth no obstacle. Solulfur's tail bannered cheerfully behind her. She had once been his age, and similarly convinced of her maturity, wisdom and grandiose capability. When she'd been little, she had grasped the arrogance of the very gods that had blessed her blood.

Life may have beaten some sense and experience into her since then, but she wasn't going to be the one to cut this young warrior's legs out from beneath him. The Sun-wolf turned the full force of her smile upon the boy, welcoming him and his dedicated spirit to their lands, their pack, their community. He had potential, Solulfur could see that with ease, and she was not the kind of cunning to let her arrogance pass up on such opportunity. Mjög gott! Við finnum okkur ekki í mörgum slagsmálum, en andi stríðsmanns mun skapa þykja vænt um pakka. Og fyrsta hugrekki okkar, Tiberii, mun meta nýjan sparring félaga. (Very good! We do not find ourselves in many fights, but the spirit of a warrior will make for a cherished packmate. And our First Class of Power, Tiberii, will appreciate a new sparring partner.)

She lifted her chin, sounding off a few curt summoning barks to gather the Pillars to her. Then, she turned back to Torgar. Talar þú eitthvað algengt? Flestir í pakkanum okkar tala aðeins það tungumál. (Do you speak any Common? Most within our pack only speak that language.)

first class of power! tiberii? was that a rank? a name? a place? torgar tried to sort out the words before they tripped over his tongue, but silenced himself at sólúlfur's call. she was turning her knowing eyes on him now, and she asked after a sore spot that rankled the boy.
he was suddenly very still, and swallowed. his grasp of common was something he could have kept secret were dagfinn around, a mystery to himself. now he found himself forced to admit that he knew more, and somehow, inexplicably, resented it. i speak and hear well enough, the young drengr grunted in heavy accent, looking at sólúlfur with a tiny air of desperation. men du og jeg, vi kan snakke sådan her sammen, ikke sandt? (but you and i, we can talk like this together, right?)
torgar had no word for the hole opening in his chest. one day he would wake and know its name: loneliness. preserving himself only in their natal tongue had been the fiercest thing connecting him to dagfinn; now to survive, he must choose.
it hurt.
he was silent in resigned anticipation.

The boy's demeanor chilled, as Solulfur asked after his knowledge of Common. At first, she assumed he was not fluent, that they'd have to teach him and she would end up with a boy at her heels to play translator for for however long it took to learn a new tongue. She wasn't sure what to expect from learning new languages so late in life - she'd been more or less fluent in all four of her known languages by the time she was his age. Perhaps thankfully, Torgar could speak the common tongue, so he'd be able to speak with his new packmates.

Somehow, the Sun-wolf still suspected she may end up with a timber-clad shadow, if the boy's apprehensive tone and sudden dampened enthusiasm was anything to judge by.

She knew she could relate to what he was feeling, even if her sympathies were difficult to garner when they were still hardly more than strangers. Solulfur had some kind of mercy, though, and gave an agreeable nod of her head and a knowing look. Auðvitað getum við; Ég er alltaf feginn fyrir tækifærið til að tala tungu móður minnar. Bróðir minn - Nottin - er fyrsti hugrekki okkar. Hann talar líka þetta tungumál og mun skilja þig. ( Of course we can; I am always glad for the opportunity to speak my mother's tongue. My brother - Nottin - is our First Class of Courage. He, too, speaks this language, and will understand you.)

---

highkey would not mind if u BTSed torgar following her around like a lost child lol <3

sólúlfur took torgar and his angst in stride. it pleased and bewildered him; it made him wary and welcome. he did not yet know how to be around those who were not his brother, nor their people. and even their people -- well. torgar had grown apart from them in his travels at dagfinn's side. for more months than he counted had they been alone together.
his heart throbbed with a growing hurt.
so. she had a brother, nottin. he was not prepared to talk on siblings; he nodded his head and grunted a little to say that sólúlfur had been heard. but torgar was becoming tired, exhaustion settling over him from the march, the loss, the talking, and now this last insult of losing part of his mystery to common.
it was not her fault. there was no blame. the boy felt only that he could sleep for a year and not wake to happiness.

---

omg, that's so cute! she'd absolutely let him, and probably play translator for him sometimes lol

Her fellow Dawnbreakers had not yet diverted from their duties to attend to her call, and the enthusiasm of the new recruit at her heels was beginning to flag. He had gotten quieter and quieter trudging through the snow behind her, and Solulfur finally paused in her striding through the territory to peer at him over her shoulder. The snow-filled wind cut through the Vale harshly, pressing her fur against her frame and whining in her ears before she seemed to come to a conclusion and whirled to face forward again.

She didn't know how long he'd been on his own, fending for himself, and she knew from experiencing how trying such survivalism could be. She'd come out of it stronger, but she was not a proponent of needless hardship. The mountain offered plenty of trying tests on its own, and wolves who sought to craft new cruelties instead of permitting the land to exercise its own were foolish.

Komdu, þú hlýtur að vera svangur. Ég mun sýna þér einn af skyndiminni okkar og þá getum við beðið í gryfjunni minni þar til einn af fyrstu flokkunum okkar er tiltækur til að tala við þig. (Come, you must be hungry. I will show you to one of our caches, and then we can wait in my den until one of our First Classes is available to speak with you.)