Page 5 of Black Dog

Ram knew that, indeed, one morning he would come to breakfast and realize that Helm’s line of vision was higher than his own. He wasn’t dreading that day. Ram had spent years in B Team with three taller teammates before Elora took Lan’s place. He didn’t care how tall Helm was so long as the boy knew that height was no reason to brag, anymore than any physical feature.

Helm had inherited some of his mother’s unusual physical attributes. He was every bit as beautiful and charismatic as his psychic auntie, Aelsong, had predicted before his birth.

“Good looks are no’ an accomplishment. ‘Tis a gift and nothin’ more. Ye have no reason to lord it over those less comely.” Ram repeated this sentiment or something like it every time he suspected Helm was feeling proud about his physical good fortune. And Ram hoped he was getting through on a deep and unforgettable level.

Ram and Elora had used their considerable influence with The Order of the Black Swan to arrange to have Helm educated as a non-prospect. The Order agreed that one of the training institutions was the best place for an adolescent male with Helm’s unusual abilities, not to mention the fact that he might someday choose to accept the mantel of King of Irish Elves. Black Swan thrived on discreet connections in high places and, therefore, agreed to make a place for him at the German unit. For the first time in the history of Black Swan, a student’s board and tuition was paid for by his parents.

Helm had started that fall. He was so eager to go he was practically jumping out of his skin. As he prepared to leave only one thing made his eyes sting and threatened to compromise his manhood with tears. Blackie.

He could manage without his mum, his da, and Paddy-Lovin’ sisters. But going for months at a time without a heart-to-heart conversation with Blackie while stroking dark silky fur? There’d be nothing fun about that.

For him,there was no such thing as a world without Blackie. The idea of that black dog was as constant as was the idea of his father, Sir Rammel Aelshelm Hawking, Black Swan Knight Emeritus, Prince of Irish Elves, and his mother, Lady Elora Laiken, Black Swan Knight Emeritus, former Princess of Britannia, Stagsnare Dimension. Helm was familiar with the grandiose pageantry of his parents’ titles, but didn’t typically think of them in those terms. He knew he had famous parents, but since he had no idea what it might be like to have other parents, that was of little consequence to him.

His earliest memory was the sight of a black muzzle appearing between the bars of his crib, subtly moving from side to side in time with the wagging of a thick tail. With intense and intelligent brown eyes, full of light, Blackie would stand at the side of Helm’s bed for long periods, staring at the young elfling like he was the most precious thing in the universe.

Helm had never confronted the prospect of surviving Blackie and simply couldn’t imagine life without the big black dog.It was impossible. Or if not impossible, then at least unthinkable.

Elora had been Blackie’s world. Until Helm was born. When the mistress breezed through the room, she would laugh and say, “Blackie. Are you staring at the baby again? Don’t you ever get tired of that?”

Blackie would withdraw his head so that he could look at Elora over his shoulder, wag his tail a little harder, then go right back to watching Helm as if the elfling might otherwise disappear.

After that he was Helm’s constant companion, being the self-appointed guardian and best friend. Blackie accepted that duty before Helm made his first appearance in the world. He’d kept the feral wolves at a distance while his mistress gave birth to the future king of Irish elves.

Helm’s mother didn’t mind sharing Blackie’s love and loyalty. It was a pact made silently between the mistress and her dog. ‘We’ll take care of the elfling together.’ Then she’d winked. He didn’t know how she did that, closing one eye and not the other. It was disconcerting at best and disturbing at worst. It was one of a long list of elf behaviors that worried him and prompted him to seek reassurances that all was well, in the form of soothing words and pets. Maybe treats, too.

In the last days before Yule it was cold and there were a scant seven hours of daylight and no hours of sunlight. The time was too precious to waste. So Blackie took full advantage of the enjoyment derived from his perch on the rise. From there not a single movement, no matter how slight, escaped his notice. It was the nature of Alsatians to stay close to the pack and be perpetually alert.

And the Hawking family was Blackie’s pack.

He heard the buzz of the old woodie’s engine coming up the road. He sat up and watched the progress of the car from a mile away. It followed the intricate in and out of the curved and narrow country road until it pulled past the gate to his farm.

Blackie was contemplating whether or not he’d make the effort to trot downhill and greet Ram returning home from some errand. He was still trying to decide when the passenger door opened and he heard Helm’s voice.

Helm followed the direction Ram’s finger was pointing as he said, “Somebody’s glad to see you.”

Blackie was sprinting down the hill so fast he was little more than a streak, Helm’s joyful laughter spurring him on. Helm barely had time to kneel before Blackie plowed into him, unable to contain his exhilaration. Helm allowed Blackie to knock him over and cover him in wet kisses, while keeping a paw on the elfling’s chest as if to proclaim that Helm was his.

Such a thing wouldn’t have been possible without Helm’s cooperation. It would have taken more than a powerful dog weighing nine stone to knock down the son of Elora Laiken. Helm had a bit of his mother’s dense, alien muscle and the extra weight that went with that.

Ram stood and watched the display of dog reunited with his elfling, thinking that Elora would be brought to tears by the scene. “Come on, you two. The mist is turnin’ to drizzle and may freeze on your face.”

Blackie ran to the mud room door, went through his custom-made door flap, and stood wagging his tail when Ram and Helm entered. He wouldn’t dare go ahead of Elora, but everybody else let him get away with pretending he was second in command. Dogs who are very smart must have their amusements.

“We’re home!” Ram called.

Elora was in the kitchen making Irish stew and soda bread, Helm’s favorite. She dropped the big wooden spoon in the pot and wiped her hands on her apron as she hurried to the mud room. Letting Helm go away to school was one of the hardest things she’d ever done, but after countless nights talking it over with Ram, she’d agreed it was the best thing for him.

Where had the time gone?

Helm smiled brightly when Elora came into view, tears already forming in her eyes. “Mum!”

She grabbed the sides of his head and peppered his entire face with kisses while he chuckled, partly from the delight of a mum who thought he was the best elf ever born, and partly from knowing that his face had been covered with Blackie’s ‘kisses’ minutes before. Knowing his mother, she probably wouldn’t have cared. He was sure she loved that dog as much as her own children.

When she let him go, she said, “Welcome home, love.” She grabbed his collar and looked at the top of his head. “Did you get taller? You DID, you little stinker. I told you to stop growing.” She looked at her mate. “Ram. He’s taller isn’t he?” Ram shrugged. She turned her attention back to Helm and bathed the room with her megawatt smile. “And handsome enough to blind the sun.”

“Mum. You’re startin’ to sound like an Irishwoman.”

“I’ve been takin’ lessons from your da for fifteen years. It’s a total immersion program.” She lowered her voice. “Nobody does silver tongue better.”

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