"You've a keen eye," the kennel master had said, and Luke had felt - not for the first time since meeting the man - a strange combination of emotions. There was a little glow of pride, no small amount of gratitude, and under it all, a small tremble of nerves. What if the man was wrong? What if Luke didn't meet his expectations, and was in fact a stupendous failure? Of course, Luke - being seventeen and full of teenage arrogance - refused to let the nerves, the worries, show and decided the best course of action (externally, at least) was to fake confidence until he actually felt it.
It was rather difficult to feel confident, though, when the first dog he could call his very own was Sasha. He'd found the puppy scrounging for food on the Castle grounds and had (secretly) loved her ever since, but there was rather a lot left to be desired. She was ugly as sin and stupider than a box of rocks, a scrawny little mutt with dense, wiry white fur and big, soft brown eyes; she might've had a chance at looking at least a bit more handsome if she wasn't several sizes too small for her parts. Big goofy paws tripped the fool constantly, while her droopy ears and too-big nose made her perpetually top-heavy, and she was forever knocking into things. But what Sasha lacked in grace, she made up for with a nose so keen that she could track a small mouse through all the cracks and crevices of the castle without ever losing its trail. She'd make a fine tracker, one day, Luke was sure. It was just getting her to that point that was going to take some time, particularly since the pup didn't seem to understand a lick of English. Lucy, Luke's best friend, always added to his assessment of the pup by saying that she had the cheerful, uncomplicated personality of an angel, and would make a lovely companion when she grew into herself. Lucy was pretty damn smart (for a girl, he always added, simply because he liked watching her wrinkle her nose at him in disapproval), so Luke decided she was probably right about Sasha's potential. It was just hard to see that potential when she kept doing silly things.
"Stay put," Luke said, nudging Sasha into one of the kennels. The pup gave a low moan, the most she could manage from her severely swollen mug at the moment. The idiot had snapped at a bee, promptly coughed it up, and then - because what else was she going to do? - swallowed it again. One vet bill later - the equivalent of a weekend's worth of hauling crates of dog food - Luke had been thoroughly reassured that the little idiot would make a full recovery, but he had no intention of letting her out of his sight to get into more trouble. As soon as Luke stepped out of her eyesight, the pup let out a horrible series of whimpers and whines, the sort of cry designed specifically to irritate their caretaker, and almost immediately the other dogs took up the cry. Grumbling under his breath about his poor choice in dogs, Luke gathered his things (including the kennel master's prized journal, which held a wealth of information he was eager to share with Luke) and settled himself in the kennel next to Sasha. Content now, the pup flopped upside down at his feet and promptly settled in for a nap. Isaac, who was still adjusting to the noise and smell of the kennels, was perched higher up, observing the goings-on with keen dark eyes, and was the first to hear the sound of approach.
"I think you've got a customer, Luke," he called, scrambling along the edges of the stalls until he could hop onto Luke's shoulders. Grumbling once more, Luke put his things out of Sasha's reach (she was a gnawer, the naughty minx) and stepped out of the stall. In his hurry to get the meeting over with, he swung the door shut without paying close attention, and made his way towards the entrance just as Theoden walked through.
"Are you looking for a dog, sir?" he asked, barely taking time to peek around and make sure none of his friends were around to hear him sounding so... helpful. "We've got several fine beasts available, depending on what you're looking for."
Sasha, several seconds behind the rest of them, galloped from the stall - the door had not shut properly, it seemed - and, barking like the mad thing she was, charged right for Theoden. Or, at least, it seemed like she was for the first few steps, but then abruptly veered off-course and ran face-first into a nearby post. Luke sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose in a long-suffering expression.
"Except her," he admitted, with just a bit of reluctance. "She's my tracker..." The pup, recovering from her run-in like a champ made a beeline for Theoden's shoes, wiggling as Luke swept her up. "Or, she will be... someday." I hope, Luke added silently. |