Tyrland sat alone at the Skyforge, the sound of metal on metal ringing in his ears as he brought a hammer down to bevel out a red hot blade he had just taken out of the red hot coals of the forge. He had sat at the Skyforge for a month, taking barely any time to eat or sleep, as every time he closed his eyes he saw Skjor being slaughtered by that merciless wretch Krev the Skinner. As he quenched the now dull red blade,Tyrland knew he would never forget that evening. It was not just due to how Skjor had died, it was the way he had lost control, and allowed the wolf inside of him to take over. He had taken his time with Krev, first by ripping her sword arm off at the shoulder, and beating her about the head with it several times. Tyrland had knocked all the teeth out of the right side of Krev's head when he was finished. Though it burned when his hand touched it, he then took Krev's silver mace and crushed her knees into powder, before ripping them off of her body. Tossing aside the silver weapon, he grabbed the head of the sobbing woman, and proceeded to smash her already broken face into a wall until there was nothing but a bloody stump left.

Kodlak had not approved of the way Tyrland had destroyed Skjor's killer though. The Herbinger of the Companions had said that what Tyrland had done was overkill, though the younger Nord had not fully heard what the elder man had said. He was still seething, and the wolf inside him was demanding to be released, as that was the first time in the last thirteen years that he had transformed. The first nightmares had come that night, and Tyrland did not trust himself to fall asleep.

So that is what brought the young Nord up to the Skyforge. He found that keeping himself busy by forging, he did not think about the events of that night. Bringing the smoking blade out of the quenching oil, after holding it up to check for any warps to the blade to which he found none, Tyrland brought the now cool blade to the grinding wheel. He set the blade against the stone of the Skyforge, as he wrapped a high grain belt of rough-paper around the grinding wheel. Satisfied with the chosen grand, Tyrland then picked up the quenched blade and set about grinding the edge to the blade he was forging.

The sound of leather boots on stone reached Tyrland's ears, as he caught a subtle but sweet scent on the wind. His Shield-Sister Aela had come. Tyrland loved Aela like a brother would love his sister, and besides Kodlak, she was the only one to ever call him Tyrland. Everyone else, even his twin brother Bramiond called him Tyr. Aela felt the same way about Tyrland, and aside from the brothers Vilkas and Farkas, they were the closest in the Companions.

"Tyrland." Aela began, her tone holding an edge that told the young Nord she was serious.

"Hello sister." Tyrland replied, as he began to grind the opposite side of the steel blade using the same grain of rough-paper. "What brings you up here?"

Had Tyrland not been in the most delicate part of forging a blade, Aela would have punched him in the head for that question. Unclenching her right fist, Aela stepped up to Tyrland's left. "You bring me up here brother. You have done nothing but sit at this forge for the last month. You do not eat and you barely sleep. All of us even Kodlak are concerned for you."

The grinding wheel stopped, and Tyrland lowered the blade from the wheel. The sun now high in the afternoon Skyrim sky reflected brightly on the roughly ground edges of the blade Tyrland was forging. "I cannot sleep Aela. Every time I close my eyes, I see that monster killing Skjor."

Aela looked at her Shield-Brother in shock. She had not known this was the reason Tyrland had sat at the Skyforge for the last month. "Why did you not speak of this before?"

"Nobody had asked me what I was doing up here before." Tyrland replied, as he removed the high grain rough-paper from the grinding wheel, and replaced it with a finer grain rough-paper.

"So you sat at the Skyforge to take your mind off of your nightmares." Aela said, not as a question, yet as a statement.

"Yes. I do not wish to relive that night in my dreams." Tyrland replied, as he refined the edge's of the blade he was working on. He took the blade away from the grinding wheel, and held it out straight to inspect the edges. "So I've been up here keeping myself busy, and keeping my nightmares away."

"Your work is impressive brother." Aela began, her arms folded across her chest. "Yet you have made so many blades for us, we would have enough to go to war with the Imperials again."

Tyrland could not help the bark of laughter that escaped him. It had been a year since the war in Skyrim had come to an end, and Ulfric Stormcloak was crowned king. Though the war did not end with the death of General Tullias, but with the death of Emperor Tidus Meede that Tyrland's younger sister Sif had carried out, and was able to pin the death of Cyrodil's Emperor on the Altmeri Dominion. All of this unfolded during the cease-fire between General Tullias and Ulfric Stormcloak up on the Greybeards temple of High Hrothgar. In that same moment, Tyrland had called for the war to end. With the Emperor dead seemingly on the orders of Skyrim's Dominion ambassador, General Tullias named himself Emperor of Cyrodil, and nullified the White-gold Concordat then and there. Ambassador Elenwen was forced to withdraw from Skyrim, and Ulfric was crowned High King after Emperor Tullias withdrew his forces.

"I do not think we will be warring with Cyrodil anytime soon sister." Tyrland said, as he heated the tang of his blade in the coals of the Skyforge, before burning an oakwood handle onto the tang. Tyrland had already fit a knot patterned handguard on, before burning on the oakwood handle that was a hand and a half in length. He then screwed on a hexagonal based pommel that formed into a cone towards the tip. After wrapping the handle in a light but durable leather, Tyrland held the blade out in his right hand, before placing it in a scabbard he had made himself. "But this blade is not for the weapon racks of Jorvaskir. This one is for me."

Taking the blade her Shield-Brother's newly forged blade in her hands, Aela inspected the finely forged steel for herself. "I doubt even Eorlund could have forged a finer blade Tyrland. Your month of work at the forge has certainly paid off."

"Thank you Aela." Tyrland said, resting his head against Aela's chest after taking back his blade. The month of forging with little sleep had finally taken its toll on the young Nord.

"You know all the best swords have names." Aela said, lightly running her fingers through Tyrland's long dark hair.

Tyrland was silent for a moment, as sleep began to take him. Yet in this state, a name came to him. A name that would strike fear into the members of the Silver Hand, when it was wielded against them. "Silverbane."

"A fine name, for a fine blade Tyrland." Aela said, as she hoisted her Sheild-Brother over her shoulder with a surprising amount of strength one would not think the female Nord possessed. "Now weather you like it or not. It's time for you to get some well deserved rest."

(A/N) Alright after re-reading my original work by the same name, I realized one thing. It absolutely sucked. I had so many ideas I wanted to do, and the finished product didn't turn out the way I had imagined it in my mind. Plus where I was in terms of story, I realized that it would take forever to get to where I wanted to be. So I decided to scrap my work, and start fresh with the main quest line, and civil war side quest already completed.

Also, once the Companions quest line is finished, I'll be moving onto the Dawngaurd story, and hopefully this time around I'll produce something better than the original story.