i mourn my dog, i am Hundrvíður: we are the "dog-wounded".
There's a recently adopted Sanskrit loan word for someone who has lost a child: "vilomah". In the Norse Lore & Sagas there are quite a few instances where in the honor/revenge cycle, or due to other unfortunate events, parents lose their offspring. Egil Skallagrímsson's immensely moving Sonatorrek poem on the loss of his sons totally comes to mind.
What I'd wondered is if there was an Old Norse equivalent to "vilomah", and then even more specifically, if there's an ON word for someone grieving their dog who has departed upon the Hel-Road.
In Njal's Saga, Gunnar is gifted the Irish dog Sam, who is possessed of human intelligence, but during the planned assault on Gunnar's hall, Sam is first lured away & then killed by the attackers, and given the rapid fire course of bow-heavy events, I don't think Gunnar is given any time to self-label as a pet-mourner the sad loss of his very exceptional hound. By contrast, the regicide of Saurr the Talking Dog King of Norway (in Gesta Danorum and Heimskringla) was probably cheered by most since that liberated them from being vassals of Sweden, but I'm willing to put silver on the table that someone rather missed their talking dog. And archeologically, more dogs have been found in Viking Era regional graves than in any other culture, so they must have been regarded as beloved enough to sacrifice & inter to accompany their masters. But if their dog instead died first, and in light of that must-have-in-death importance then deeply missed by that mourning master, what would that grieving person then call themselves? And if there isn't a recorded word, can an ON neologism/portmanteau be constructed to fill this need?
After asking around, I haven't gotten any answers that give those so aggrieved a helpful self-label or a societal identifier for who they are now in their grief. Given NorsePlay's purpose and ability to push things forward, I have proactively skalded a word into existence for us:
Hundrvíður.
Poetically this is "dog-wounded", (well, if I got the tense right), which is meant in the same sense people now talk about the "dog-shaped hole" in their hearts when their dog has died.
I mourn my dog, Buddy Guillermosson.
I am Hundrvíður.
We are the "dog-wounded", and we are the Hundrvíður.
Guillermo Maytorena IV knew there was something special in the Norse Lore when he picked up a copy of the d'Aulaires' Norse Gods and Giants at age seven. Since then he's been fascinated by the truthful potency of Norse Mythology, passionately read & studied, embraced Ásatrú, launched the Map of Midgard project, and spearheaded the neologism/brand NorsePlay. If you have employment/opportunities in investigative mythology, field research, or product development to offer, do contact him.
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