The Faithful Hound and the Bear

by TwoSkeletons

Once upon a time there lived a lord and a lady who had no children of their own. They were neither of them the greatest or bravest or wisest of lords and ladies, but they were decent enough sorts with love in their hearts that had to go somewhere, and so the lord and the lady gave it to a certain hound. This hound was so brave and loyal and clever than he was a joy to hunt with, and so gentle and playful that he was a joy between hunts as well. He could track a scent for days, bear down a wild boar with his jaws, and had lovely floppy ears and a fine droopy muzzle. The lord and lady of the manor loved this hound, and played with him in their free time, and he sat at their feet at meals and ate whatever fell to the ground.

One day the hound and his lord were out for a hunt, and the hound had gone on ahead to check the traps. One after another were empty, until he got to one which had snapped shut on the leg of a great brown bear.

"Well, well," said the hound, "a fine new rug for my master's hall, and a feast all in one!"

The bear grumbled. "And where's the sport in it for your noble master?" he asked. "To stand away and stab me with his spear while I can't move or fight? Show me the secret of this trap, master hound, and I shall repay the favor."

The hound always tried to be loyal to his master, but the prospect of being owed by a bear was an enticing one. Having thought the matter over, he showed the bear how to release the trap.

"Thank you, master hound," said the bear. "I am in your debt. Only howl three times, and I shall come to aid you."

The bear ambled off into the woods, and in the next trap the hound found a deer who was already dead, and would make for a fine meal.

A week later the lord and his hound went hunting, and again the hound went ahead to check the traps. One after another were empty, until he came to a snare which had closed around the neck of the great bear.

"Well, well," said the hound, "I am sorry you will not get the chance to repay me that favour."

"Why not?" asked the bear. "Would you let your master eat bear, and risk him getting sick if I am not cooked correctly? Show me the secret of this trap, master hound, and I shall repay the favour."

The hound considered, and thought that probably no dog had ever been owed two favours by a bear, and so he showed the bear how to loosen the snare and slip out.

"Thank you, master hound," said the bear. "I am doubly in your debt. Only howl three times, and I shall come to aid you."

The bear ambled off into the woods, and in the next trap the hound found a stag who was already dead and would make for a fine meal, with a fine rack of antlers to decorate the wall.

A week later the lord and his hound went hunting, and again the hound went ahead to check the traps. One after another were empty, until he came to a net which had fallen over the great bear.

"Well, well," said the hound, "I fear you must be more careful on your walks, master bear."

"I know, I know," the bear grumbled. "And I will be sure to be more careful next time, if only you will show me how to escape from this net."

The hound shook his head. "Not this time, master bear," he said. "What sort of hound would I be if I let my master's quarry escape three times in a row?"

"A very clever one," said the bear. "Think, master hound. Am I of more use to you on your master's plate, or at your beck and call? Show me the secret of this trap, and I shall repay the favour."

The hound thought it over long and hard, until he could hear the hoofbeats of his master's horse approaching, and finally he showed the bear how to slip out from under the net.

"Thank you, master hound," said the bear. "I am thrice in your debt. Only howl three times, and I shall come to aid you."

The bear galumphed off into the woods, and in the next trap the hound found a great elk who was already dead, and would make for two fine meals, with a wide rack of antlers to hang over the lord's chair.

The bear must indeed have been more careful, for the hound did not see him again on his hunts, and did not howl to summon him. In the spring of the year, though, the lord and lady were blessed with a baby boy, and were happy and thankful beyond imagining. The hound became second in their hearts, which he felt was as it should be, and did not begrudge the child. He laid at the foot of the boy's cradle at night, and the boy learned to walk with his hand clutching the fur on the hound's back.

The baby boy quickly became the centre of the household, and quickly realized this himself, and though the lord and lady's hearts were in the right place, the boy became rather spoiled. One day, he saw the hound playing with a ball in the yard, and decided that he wanted to play with it himself. He ran over to the hound and tried to grab the ball out of his mouth, but the hound pranced away. He thought the boy meant to take the ball from him as a game, and was excited to have a playmate. The boy tried again, and again the hound bounded away. Finally, the boy lost his temper, and he grabbed one of the hound's lovely floppy ears and pulled on it as hard as he could. Luckily this was not very hard, but it hurt and startled the hound, who dropped the ball and barked as loud as he could. This startled the boy, who let go of the ear and lost his balance and fell to the ground. And as he fell, he put his arms out to catch himself, and his right hand landed on a small, jagged stone which cut into his palm.

The boy began to cry, and the lord and lady and their servants came running, and when they saw the boy with his bloodied hand crying next to the sheepish-looking hound, they believed that the hound had turned wild and bitten him. And though they loved the hound, they were angry at him and loved their son more. So the lord sadly declared that the dog would be put down three days hence. They took the dog and locked him in an unused room in the castle.

Now in those days there were a sort of small goblin folk called hobyahs, which used to come up out of the ground now and then at night and make mischief, and though they were smaller than other goblins, they were much wilder and fiercer. When the hobyahs got going they were known to trample whole fields of crops, tear down whole houses, eat people up and carry off little children back to their lairs. Mostly they only troubled the common folk, but as the hound lay sadly in the locked room, he heard little voices coming from the hall.

"Hobyah, hobyah, hobyah!" they whispered, "Steal whatever we can, and carry off the little boy!"

Hearing this the hound grew frantic, and scratched furiously at the door and barked as loud as he could, but no one came, so at last he remembered what the bear had said and he howled three times. Soon he heard heavy footsteps outside the door.

"Well, well," he heard the bear say, "A sturdy enough door for man or hound. Let me show you the secret of this trap." And then the hound had to scamper out of the way as the door crashed inward under the bear's heavy paws. Without stopping even to thank him, the hound rushed out between the bear's legs and ran to the boy's room, where two of the little hobyahs were struggling with the boy, trying to put him into a sack. The hound snarled and seized one of the hobyahs in his jaws, but after a moment it managed to tear itself free, and the two hobyahs jumped out the window.

The lord and lady heard all the commotion and came running to the boys room, and they saw the boy's hand bleeding again, for his struggle with the hobyahs had reopened the wound, and they saw the hound with his jaws red with the hobyah's blood, and they drew their own conclusions, and the lord seized the hound roughly and dragged him out into the yard and tied him up with a stout rope for a leash.

The hound stayed there all day, feeling very sorry for himself, but when night fell, he smelled a familiar smell, and then saw three little shapes moving across the yard.

"Hobyah, hobyah, hobyah!" they cackled. "Steal whatever we can, and carry off the little boy!"

The hound leapt to his feet and strained at the rope, and whined and barked, but no one came. He saw the three hobyahs running back out of the house, carrying above their heads a wriggling sack. Finally the hound threw back his head and howled three times.

"Well, well," said the bear as he ambled up, "A stout enough rope for man or hound. Let me show you the secret of this trap." And then he tore at the rope with his great claws and teeth until it was torn to shreds, and the hound raced off after the hobyahs. He could easily smell them, and it wasn't long before he caught up to them, and it and tore at the hobyahs until they dropped the sack and ran for their lives. The hound tore the sack open the sack and found that the boy had fainted from fright, so he gently took the boy's arm in his mouth and dragged him back to the house.

The lord and lady had heard the commotion and came running into the yard, and saw the hound dragging the senseless boy in his bloody jaws, and the lord seized the hound roughly and threw him into the pigsty. When morning came, he had a locksmith come and fit a heavy lock onto the gate of the pigsty to ensure the hound would not escape again.

The hound stayed there all day, feeling sorry for himself, though at least he had the pigs for company, and they were glad to have somebody new to talk to. But when night fell, he smelled a familiar smell, much stronger than before, and saw a horde of little shapes streaming into the yard.

"Hobyah, hobyah, hobyah!" they cried, "Tear down the manor, eat up the lord and lady, and carry off the little boy!"

The hound put his paws on the gate and barked and barked, and could see lights coming on in the house, but already the hobyahs were breaking down the front door. So the hound threw back his head and howled three times.

"Well, well, " said the bear, as he ambled up, "A heavy enough lock for man or hound. Let me show you the secret of this trap." And he reared up on his hind legs, and with one crash of his great claws he smashed the lock clean off the gate. The hound bolted out of the gate and began tearing and biting and clawing at the hobyahs that were still in the yard, and the bear ambled back to the forest, eating up any hobyahs that strayed into his path.

When all the hobyahs in the yard had died or fled, the hound ran into the house and began tearing into all the hobyahs he found there, all the way to the boy's room. The boy was struggling with the hobyahs, who were trying to pull him out of his cradle, but the hound leapt in and tore them all to pieces. By now the lord (who slept near his sword) and the lady and all their servants had fought off the rest of the hobyahs, and the lord and lady ran to the boy's room to check on him, and when they saw the hound standing there surrounded by dead hobyahs and the boy still in his cradle, they realized their mistake at once, and the hound led them into the yard and showed them the stone where the boy had cut his hand, and the lord wept to think that he had so mistreated such a loyal animal.

After this the hound was once again second in his masters' hearts, as it should be, and the boy learned to play nicely and once again became good friends with the hound. The hound kept his family well fed for many, many years to come, and the hobyahs stayed far away, and the bear was far too careful to be trapped again.

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