Witch's Marsh please let me blaze

this is a second version of this post b/c i accidentally hit a keyboard shortcut while typing and lost the original. ;-;

the first word she speaks 'pestilence' is a strange sounding word and far, far too complex for him to even attempt to grapple with — thus is goes largely ignored. yet, the second word ignites an understanding that transcends their language barriers. god, gleipnir repeats the word with familiarity. ég á guði. he murmurs in the old tongue. i...i gods. he tries to translate, but frustration at himself, at never heeding siv's lessons, causes his brow to furrow.

i don't need to know how to speak their words, he can recall telling his milkmother. i only need to know how to speak war. fear is a universal language. arrogance at its prime.

she repeats his name, and asks him a question that he, once more, grapples with to decipher. gleipnir. he repeats with a firm nod, motioning to himself with a small gesture of his muzzle. gleipnir. he affirms a third time, hoping that he answers her mostly gibberish ( to him ) question.