I own nothing except the Dragonborn character in this story. All rest belongs to the Mighty Bethesda.
The soft sound of leather armor met his ears where he sat at the small table across from the elder Companion. From the side of his eyes he could see somebody approaching down the hall, but elected to ignore the newcomer and continue his conversation with his Harbinger. "But I still hear the call of the blood," he commented. The scent of the outdoors filled his nostrils, reminding him of the forests around Falkreath as the person drew closer.
"We all do. It is our burden to bear. But we can overcome," Kodlak responded.
"You have my brother and I, obviously. But I do not know if the rest will go along quite so easily," he retorted. He knew that Aela and Skjor continued to answer the call of the blood as often as they could. Convincing them to turn away would be a difficult task.
"Leave that to me," Kodlak returned, seemingly unconcerned about how difficult the task may be. He turned his attention away, signaling that the matter was closed.
Vilkas took the opportunity to examine the woman who had walked in. She was an elf, a Bosmer, with dark hair that she had cut short. The tips of her ears peaked out between the strands of hair and she wore a circlet that was made of an oddly colored blue metal. Her eyes were dark, nearly black in color and there were three jagged scars that ran down one side of her face, from cheekbone to chin.
He was amazed to see her armor looked to be made of dragon scales and was fitted to her like a second skin. She had a bow on her back which appeared to be made of bone, possibly dragon, and two daggers on her waist. He noticed that one had a Daedric character engraved on it and momentarily wished that he had a better knowledge of Daedric artifacts. He inhaled slowly and deeply, again detecting the scent of the forest but underneath it was another smell, something raw and fiery, something dangerous.
She nodded in greeting to Kodlak before speaking. "I would like to gain entry to the Companions," her voice was soft yet strong and though she spoke lightly, it filled the room.
Kodlak's eyebrows rose. "Would you now? Here, let me have a look at you. Hm. Yes, perhaps, a certain strength of spirit."
Vilkas' eyes darted over to Kodlak. "Master, you are not truly considering accepting her?" he sputtered.
Kodlak sighed slightly and replied, "I am nobody's master, Vilkas. And last I checked, we had some empty beds in Jorrvaskr for those with a fire burning in their hearts."
Vilkas snorted and answered, "Apologies. But perhaps this is not the time. I have never even heard of this outsider."
At his words her eyebrows shot up and a small smile played at the corners of her mouth. Kodlak didn't seem to notice and continued, "Sometimes the famous come to us. Sometimes men and women come to us to seek their fame. It makes no difference. What matters is their heart."
Vilkas smirked. "And their arm," he added.
Kodlak nodded and turned back to her. "Of course," he said and looked her over again, "How are you in battle, girl?"
The small smile grew a bit and she shrugged one shoulder before responding, "I can handle myself."
Kodlak frowned, "That may be so. This is Vilkas. He will test your arm. Vilkas, take her out to the yard and see what she can do."
She looked at him expectantly and he rose, leading her down the hall, upstairs and out to the yard. They got a few odd looks as they walked through Jorrvaskr and he noticed that Farkas and Aela both followed them out to the yard to watch.
He turned and unsheathed his sword, adjusting his shield at the same time. "The old man said to have a look at you, so let's do this. Just have a few swings at me so I can see your form. Do not worry, I can take it."
She unsheathed her two daggers, twirling them around in her hands before dropping into a fighting stance. She shifted around him, making no move to attack as she slowly circled. He echoed her movements, making sure to keep the shield between them. After one full circle she attacked. He barely pulled the shield up in time to block her first dagger, but not the second as it slipped passed his neck, nicking the skin slightly. She danced back a smirk playing on her lips.
He could hear the chuckles from the porch where the audience watched and shrugged them off, sheathing his sword and dropping his shield. "You might just make it," he said as she adjusted the daggers on her hips. "But for now, you are still a whelp to us, new blood. So you do what we tell you," he added, grinning when she looked up at him sharply. "Here is my sword. Go take it up to Eorlund to have it sharpened. And be careful, it is probably worth more than you are."
For a reason unknown to him she laughed, the tinkling sound lingering and mixing with the sounds of Eorlund's hammer. "I would be glad to," she added reaching out and gripping the large two-handed sword, easily throwing it over her shoulder and giving him a nod before she headed towards the Skyforge.
"Whelp," Vilkas called after her. She stopped and turned her head in his direction, eyebrow raised. "Do you have a name?" he asked.
She paused before answering, "I have many names. For now, 'Whelp' will suffice." With that she spun and took off at a light jog, disappearing around the corner before he could comment.