The Question

There was a story I read as a child long ago, which was well-organized and well-illustrated, almost a little too well for my age to appreciate (I thought this at the time, and found the content a little creepy, but I would like to find that book again since I don't think it would scare me now).

It was a story of vikings, on a journey, with many 'legends' strewn and wrapped together, almost like an Odyssey for a Viking cast. I say 'legends' because I don't know enough about Norse myths and legends to tell if the author of this story made them up.

That was years, well over a decade ago, I'm sure. But images we find sometimes stay with us and return when we understand enough to make use of them.


One such image is the black dog:

Here is the story as best as I can remember to tell it:

There is a part of the story where the men re-enter their ship after some battle to find a black dog sitting on the deck, staring straight ahead. It is not theirs. Several men try to move it, but it is impossible. The dog effortlessly resists all attempts to push or pick it up, all the while staring straight ahead as if the men are of no consequence.

The leader of the Vikings tries to command it to leave. In response to this direct address, the dog answers, "There is one question I can answer, and that is not it." Enraged at this insolent uncooperativeness, the leader further insists that the dog depart the ship, asking why it is there. To everything the dog answers evenly, "There is one question I can answer, and that is not it."

There is another main character on the ship, I don't recall his name, but he is the - what I like to call - Odysseus character. He is clever and observant. He sees the tricks, he sees the big pictures, he knows the stories. He is the twist at the end of the plot.

He comes to the leader as he tries to argue with the dog (the dog is beginning to growl and bristle) to tell him that he knows of tales of men who return to find a black dog rooted on their deck. It the black dog of fate. As long as the dog on board, the dog will steer the ship to one of two destinations. Eventually, the men will find either an island filled with treasure beyond their wildest dreams or the roaring falls at the end of the earth. There is no way to move the dog, and there is only one question it will answer.

"Where are you taking us?" The leader asks.
"There is one question I can answer, and that is not it," says the dog.
"What question is that?"
"There is one question I can answer, and that is not it."

This goes on for weeks.

They cannot move the dog. They cannot know whether it will bring them to glory or destruction. They are in unfamiliar waters and cannot chart their course.
They can only hope.
And think
of what the right question might be.
They try questions all the time, but none of them are the right question.

One day, the leader gets fed up.
He thinks of a question and goes to ask the dog.

"There is one question I can answer, and that is not it."

Finally, the leader loses his temper.
He goes off shouting at the dog to get off his ship - it's his ship, he's the captain, and he orders the dog to get off! Where are you taking us? Are you going to destroy us? Where are you taking us? How do we get rid of you?

To each the dog responds,
"There is one question I can answer, and that is not it."

but it is not a forgiving dog. As the leader rants, the dog's answer becomes a growl, then a snarl, then malicious barking, but the captain goes on. He tries to forcibly remove the dog from his ship at which point the dog picks him up and begins spinning him in the air above his head, about to hurl him off of the ship.

Just then, the Odysseus character runs up through the chaos and directly asks the dog, "Who is your master?"

The dog immediately stops and puts the captain down. His eyes oddly glazed, he sits back and, like a robot, says "There is one question I can answer, and that is it."
He sits and tips his head back where the Odysseus character can see the dog tags around his neck. The dog stays stock-still as they approach to read them and allows the men to inspect its tags.
I don't remember the name on the tags, but I believe it was one of the sea or wind gods. The captain calls out, commanding the dog to return to its master. The dog howls such to tear open the sky and rises up, disappearing into a tumultuous wind.

It is gone.

The men erupt into shouts and cheering, but amid their voices, another sound is growing and tugs at their attention.

"What's that noise?"

The dog had left their ship, but not before steering it well on the way to its fated destination. The noise, coming from the rim of the horizon, only grew louder. The dog had taken them to the falls at edge of the earth.

There was little time to prepare.


****

He who has ears to hear,
let him hear.