Hoshor Plains pretty like the wind

His accent was so familiar, but so different to her. In some ways, it settled the rankled parts of her. This was not Rhaegal, not the sea-hawk who left her for the open seas. This was someone else, more settled, his feet on the earth and his eyes on his family. Njord was elk-heart man, much in the same way Vairë was doe-heart woman. The kinship between them existed in her children, but she thought for a moment, that if he stayed, she could think of him as uncle too.

Her smile settled itself, grown wider with the thought of her children.

I told you I have three, two boys, one girl. Salaksartok Caraxes, Ipiktok Balerion, and Nasamiituuq Syrax. They carry your name of Sveijarn. Salaksartok is bold, he is cunning, I see in his future a huntsman. Ipiktok thinks, I see in him a medicine man or spirit-talker. And Nasamiituuq is gentle, but shy. She will be caretaker, I think. She happily explained to the older man, her tail beginning to wave.