Wolf RPG

Ný Eldur.

Týrr stirred in his sleep, curled against a fallen cedar log, the soft moss that had grown around and up it provided an adequate bedding. It had served as the Rekkr's bed for since he had first pledged his loyalty to Tuwawi, Njal and Duskfire Glacier as a pack. It happened to be directly under a break in the canopy at the base of the mount, allowing him a perfect view of the star littered sky of night, sometimes treating him with the breath taking view of falling stars as they shot with glory across the velveteen darkness. It was a treasured spot, likely, where Týrr would dig his den when he ever got around to it. Originally, he had intended to find a cave but this had became his favored spot.

Ný Eldur.

The whisper was feather soft and seemingly right in his ear; chocolate color triangular ears twitched as if they were shooing away a fly buzzing past, and the Rekkr stretched in his slumber, muscles pulling taunt and quivering with the action before he drew his legs back to his body. Again, the two words whispered in his slumber and he jerked awake suddenly, eyes opening, pupils dilating to nearly swallow his crystalline irises whole leaving nothing but a small halo. For a second, Týrr was confused, having been fairly sure that a female had been standing there and whispering into his ear but there was no one. The only sounds he heard were the signs of life of his new pack mates and the chirps of crickets and the soft, soothed breathing of sleeping prey. Still, he did not forget the words that he had dreamed of.

New Fire.

Ný Eldur, Týrr repeated the words to himself in his native tongue, brow furrowing as he pushed himself to his paws, shaking his coat free of the debris that clung to it. He did not immediately recognize the significance of the words until he tried saying them as one word instead of two, how his father's named was Lothbrok. Two words strung together to make what these Southerners considered a sire name. Nýeldur, He repeated, speaking them together instead of separate. A new path, a renewed fire. All at once, with a soft breath it made sense. He would be known no longer as Týrr Ragnarsson. Now he was Týrr Nýeldur. Something new, something that was his.

It was only after Týrr had murmured his name, pronouncing it as one word instead of the two distinctive words that they were, did the Rekkr realize that he wasn't as alone as he had once made the mistake of thinking he'd been. Brow furrowed softly in confusion as he tried to make sense of the silhouette that cut through the shadows of night that stole over the lands at dusk as the sun sunk beneath the horizon which eagerly rose to meet it and swallow it whole. Crystalline blue eyes studied the figure which had lurched forward and began to move towards him, chocolate colored hackles bristling slightly in surprise, forgetting for nothing more than a split second that he was now apart of a pack. Long, had he traveled on his lonesome and becoming accustomed to pack regulations and the constant presence of others was strange to him. It was a novelty all over again. After that split second had passed he realized his place, that he was now apart of something greater than himself. His guard did not entirely lower, however, until he sniffed at the air, determining that the scent of the other male that was approaching was of Tuawai and Njal.

The closer the unknown pack mate came, the easier it was for Týrr to study him. It became apparent that while he knew next to nothing about the male that he, at least, recognized him on sight alone. He was the man that had tentatively scooped up Maera when the youngest Sveijarn girl had decided to throw a twenty minute temper tantrum that had delayed the caravan from Swiftcurrent Creek. Hello, Týrr broke the silence between them, though the world was hardly silent, filled with the lullabies of the night. Dawn was approaching, soon, the Rekkr determined from the position of the moon, sparing it a quick glance before his gaze went back to the other Glacier male; figuring that it didn't hurt to get to know a new pack member before he started on filling the caches he had already started in between patrols of the borders.

Týrr was not usually awake quite so early. The Rekkr was not a fan of oversleeping, because it made him feel lazy and sluggish if he allowed himself to sleep in past a certain time. Nevertheless, Týrr turned off his wandering thoughts for the moment, allowing his attention — all of his attention — to focus upon the other Glacier man as the gray man approached and stopped when they were about a wolf's length away from one another. The man whose name he did not know returned his greeting with a groggy 'morning', his voice still laced with the traces of sleep. A sheepish expression stole over the Rekkr's face as he contemplated that his spoken words might have woken up his companion. So wrapped up in the revelation of it Týrr had not realized that anyone had chosen to sleep so close to his favored spot. He had no proof that such was the case, of course, but he felt the guilt for not being more considerate to his fellow pack mates. Having this land no occupied by more than himself and occasionally Tuwawi was an adjustment.

I apologize if I woke you, Týrr spoke with soft chagrin, not wanting to make any excuses for himself. It didn't matter that he was used to being alone now, having traveled as such for so long — or at least since he left Swiftcurrent Creek unable to bring himself to return to Odinn's Cove while his rampant uncle ruled it. No, Týrr shook his head and spoke again in a softer, reassuring tone, — no, you're not intruding. He hoped that speaking the epiphany out loud didn't make him look like he was in the habit of speaking to himself. It is Icelandic. It is my native tongue, Týrr admitted with a slightly sheepish smile tugging at the edges of his lips. In my culture we don't really have surnames but sometimes nicknames can be adapted to serve a similar purpose. Nýeldur is my...adapted surname. It means new fire. Fitting I think given that it shares part of Duskfire Glacier's name. He explained with a wiry smile. He likened that he sounded very unorthodox but he was pleased. It was odd but it was his and he cherished the gift from Freyja and Frigg. Especially given that he had never really had “interaction” with the Gods in his dreams as Ragnar did.

I'm Týrr, by the way. He offered his pack mate his name since he hadn't had a chance to do it before.

It would take some time to get back into the habits of pack life, of remembering that he was not the only one to inhabit the space around him. There was a part of Týrr that was disappointed that he had not adjusted more quickly — after all they were social creatures. Well most of them were social creatures by nature. There was, he amended, always that black sheep that lived for solitude. They were nothing if not adaptable though; they had to be. The Rekkr felt his jaws part in an spontaneous, involuntary yawn before they snapped shut and he blinked sheepishly at his pack mate, hoping the older male did not think that he was boring him. That wasn't the case at all. Apparently, the last traces of sleep had not entirely disappeared from Týrr and subtly the chocolate colored Rekkr stretched again, hoping that it would help to wake him up a bit more.

Týrr's ears cupped forth when his companion spoke again, agreeing that it was fitting. Týrr was not sure if he could take credit for coming up with it, so instead nodded once in a grateful gesture. Regardless of if he could claim the credit for it or not, or if it belonged to Freyja it was his nevertheless. It was almost a strange concept to disconnect himself from Ragnar with the simple acceptance of a name, of an identity, he supposed. Nice to officially meet you Malachi, Týrr murmured with an amiable bow of his head. I come from a pack called Odinn's Cove, in the farthest reaches of the North. While being bilingual had been impressive in the Cove, and while it had certainly came in handy in the Teekon Wilds he didn't think it held as much of the necessity that it had back in the Cove. Not many spoke Icelandic here, from what he could tell, and Týrr had adapted accordingly.

Half of the time the brutality of his culture kept those who ventured towards the Odinn's Cove and it's sister pack Freyja's Moors from inquiring and those that had lived near and were subject to their winter raids fearful. The own inhibitory inquisitiveness that Týrr was afforded caused him to respond in kind. Often times, he was curious but not curious enough to pry or become intrusive in his desire for knowledge. Unlike his father. Words were weapons and knowledge was undeniably priceless but there was a line that needed to be drawn. Assorted morals that defined how far you were willing to go in your quest for it and where you crossed the line. Where you looked to what was to come if you continued digging and clawing and said no more. The sound of his companion's voice broke Týrr out of his revere. A slight shake of his head was given to chase the last tendrils of wandering thoughts away &mdashl hoping that Malachi would mistake it for a gesture to rid himself of tiredness instead of a lack of attention on the Nýeldur's part. A patrol sounds like a good idea, Týrr concurred with an amiable flick of his tail behind his haunches. Týrr hesitated only slightly before he moved forward, his designated direction chosen because it would take them to the borders quicker than most of the others. It was a path that Týrr knew well and he hoped that Malachi did not mind that he had taken the initiation despite that it was not his idea. Are you going for the Warden trade as well? Týrr inquired of his companion in a conversational tone. It felt like one of those questions whose answer would either be stupidly obvious or surprisingly not what was expected. Týrr made the assumption that because Malachi had suggested taking a patrol together as opposed to a hunt that it signified that the other male, too, was aiming for the Warden trade.

Or, simply, it would signify what happened when Týrr made assumptions.

Týrr was not a huge fan of spacing out in front of company, but attributed his relapse into what he considered to be a bad habit from his time spent alone. It had only been months but even so it had been enough for the Rekkr to have to get used to things like being in almost near constant company again. He enjoyed pack life, of course, it was in his nature as a wolf to do so, just as he enjoyed the companionship that pack life offered. The thrill of working in a unit, of being apart of something bigger than himself brought with it joy. However, it also was taking an embarrassing amount of time for him to relearn. It wasn't like he'd been years without a pack — he wasn't nearly so old to have gone years without a pack. Even so, solitude had a way of doing that, Týrr assumed.

Týrr was relieved that Malachi didn't seem to have taken insult that he had taken the lead. Týrr could never be sure how others would react to the way in which Týrr did with a naturalness that often times, surprised him. Some didn't like it, whether it was because they were higher ranked, or because Týrr was younger than them. If Malachi had, had an issue with it he didn't voice it, or show it and so Týrr continued forth at the lead, picking his way easily along the path, black, leathery nostrils flaring as the scent of the borders strengthened alerting to them that they were decreasing the distance between. Týrr tilted his head to glimpse back at Malachi over his shoulder when the other admitted that he hadn't thought about it, making Týrr feel a little embarrassed. After all, he had assumed and everyone knew what happened when you assumed something. Ears slicked to rest at half mast atop his skull for a few moments before his pace slowed as they approached the scent markers, strong and fresh with the scents of Njal and Tuwawi prominently. Yes, I am, Týrr responded to Malachi's question in regards to if Týrr was pursuing Warden or not.

Chronicler is what I am aiming for as my primary. It is relatively easy to remember our history, The earthen colored male said with a slight hint of jest. Despite the newness of Duskfire Glacier, whose history was his primary target, he'd been trying to collect the histories of other packs, too. As far as Týrr was concerned it might come in handy some day.

Definitely, Týrr concurred at Malachi's statement, letting out a soft, amused snort, as they walked along the length of the borders, his eyes moving from his companion to the territories outside of Glacier. Not that I'd be opposed to learning a well established pack's history, Týrr added as an afterthought, not wanting Malachi to think that he was lazy. I think it works in my favor though, being apart of everything, apart of the history. It makes it more personal, And in the long run, as far as Týrr was concerned it would make retelling the history less like he was reciting it. It's one thing to know it, but it was a whole other ball park to have been apart of it.

Týrr fell silent after that, taking a leaf from Malachi's book to turn the full force of his focus upon the borders. The Rekkr, too, had picked up the musk that clung to the wildcats within the Glacier's territory. Crystalline eyes lifted to Malachi, lips forming into a hard line as he nodded in agreement. I know, Týrr had picked up on their comings and goings before but hadn't thought too much of it because for the most part they had let him alone and besides he didn't think that it would have been a good idea to go up against a family of cats all by himself. Týrr understood the severity of the situation well enough. The last thing anyone wanted was one of the children getting hurt by the felines.