She smiled to herself a little, at the recollection of his earlier words.
With a frown, she noticed that she had over cooked their supper. Cooking was not really her strong point.
She stopped turning the rabbit on its spit, and offered the end of the spit with the cremated animal towards Farkas, saying it looked done. He tore away half, his fingers seemingly unconcerned by the heat, and then motioned that Lyara should have the remainder. When she protested, saying she was not hungry, he told her that she had to eat something to keep her strength up.
Farkas was amused by her zeal, and admired her fervent enthusiasm to get on with the next challenge, but she had to learn to take care of herself too. She had to learn to rest and eat when the opportunity presented itself, as you never knew when the next fight was. He nodded to himself. He thought she would make an excellent Companion, and he would be telling Kodlak so as soon as he got the opportunity. He watched her hungrily attack the rabbit, and took the chance to observe her unnoticed while she ate.
She was tall, and while not willowy, was certainly more slender than stocky Nord women. She carried herself with grace and confidence, and was able to move in almost silence, even when in full armour. Her skin was pale, much paler than most elves he had ever met, who generally had a swarthy skin. She had thin arched brows, above large almond shaped eyes. Her high cheek bones could have looked austere, but they were softened by her full lips. Long dark hair hung to her shoulders, with the top section fastened back from her face in a small plait. A very Nordic style he mused. With her helm on, she could pass for a human; even a Nord. However, her red eyes, and pointed ears gave away her true elfin ancestry. Farkas had to admit however, she was easy on the eyes.
The temperature had dropped, and he noticed Lyara huddled into her cape as they rode back to Whiterun. Skyrim was the most northern province of the continent Tamriel, and although it was Autumn, the cold wind already spoke of Winter.
Farkas steered his horse to ride close alongside hers, so that they could talk. He wanted to know about the magic she had performed in the rebel's retreat. He wasn't even sure it had been her at first, until he had seen their enemies scattered and buffeted by the force of her voice. He knew that most elves had some kind of latent magic, even those not trained in the magical arts. She had healed a deep cut to his arm not an hour ago, and had blasted flames from her hand when cornered. But what she had done in there - that was a new magic unlike any he had ever seen.
When he asked, Lyara told him the circumstances of her arrival in Whiterun. She explained how she had managed to escape Imperial custody in the small town of Helgen, when the town had been attacked by a dragon. She had then made her way to the small village of Riverwood, where she had been asked to warn the Jarl at Whiterun of the danger.
When she arrived, Jarl Balgruff decided that as she was the only person with any experience of dragons, she should accompany his bodyguard, Irileth, to follow up rumours of a sighting at the Watch Tower.
Farkas snorted at the mention of Irileth. He was all too familiar with that sour faced bitch. She didn't like the Companions, fearing that they would side with the rebel leader Ulfric, and the Stormcloaks, against her Jarl if the civil war that was brewing in Skyrim ever came to a head. If he thought about it, he had to admit, this was probably true.
He watched her brows knit together in concentration, and she took a deep breath as she took a moment to gather her thoughts, before continuing with her story.
The rumours had appeared to be true, as the dragon attacked the party as they approached the Tower. The creature swooped and dived at them, and several of the guards were roasted by its jets of flame. Between Lyara, Irileth, and the remaining guards, they managed to do enough damage to finally bring the beast down. It had not been an easy fight and there were many injuries among the survivors. Lyara herself had suffered some nasty burns, she told him, but she had managed to heal herself.
When the curious survivors approached the dragon's corpse, it started to spontaneously incinerate in front of their eyes. Patches of flesh glowed like embers before crumbling into ash. The guards scattered, fearing some further injuries, but Lyara had found herself rooted to the spot. Small pieces of ash floated skywards off the gigantic carcass. Then, with a sound like rushing winds, a swirling essence rose from the bones. Spirals of ethereal colours danced in the air above before swooping down and rushing into her from all directions.
Lyara wasn't sure what to say next. This was the first time she had talked to anyone about what she had experienced, and she wasn't sure why she was talking about it now. But, she found Farkas quite easy to talk to and she had started, so she may as well continue.
Lyara described the feeling to be like that of static running through her body. It had not been painful, yet was not entirely pleasant either. A rush of power had flown through every fibre of her being, and tingled right to the tips of her fingers. When the phenomenon had finished, and before she had even had a chance to contemplate what had just happened, she had felt a tremendous pressure build in her chest, and instinctively released it as a shout.
A blast of sound had emanated from her, causing the few guards nearby to be pushed along the ground by some invisible force. In awe and fear, they had immediately started calling her Dragonborn, as the power of the Thu'um, the Voice, was theirs by right.
Lyara looked at Farkas, curious to know how he was taking all this.
"So what happened then?" He asked, totally enraptured by her tale and eager for it to continue.
"I was summoned once again by the Jarl, and he thanked me for my assistance in dispatching the dragon. He then made me a Thane of Whiterun, of all things." She shrugged her shoulders, not really understanding why that had happened.
"I imagine he was just trying to buy my loyalty, and bind me to him. I think, in light of the coming uprising, he feels I may be of some use."
"I expect you are right," he said thoughtfully.
"He went on to say he had received word from the Greybeards, the monks who study the power of the Voice. They want the Dragonborn, or Dovakiin as they called it, to visit them to complete some instruction at their temple at High Hrothgar, on top of the Throat of the World Mountain."
She sighed heavily.
"Are you going to go?" He asked.
"I am not sure yet. I … I don't know if I am altogether happy that fate, or the Divine Nine have decided a future for me. I like being in control of my own destiny."
She looked at him then said earnestly.
"I want to join the Companions. I want the life you lead. I want the Companions to become the family I have long searched for." She looked down at her hands then, not able to hold his gaze any longer. "I was a great disappointment to my own family, but I think I can make Kodlak proud."
Farkas smiled at the wood elf, and nodded. "I am sure you will, sister. I am sure you will."
"I would appreciate you not mentioning word of my situation amongst the Companions. I want my standing to be based on my ability as a warrior alone."
"Your secret is safe with me, sister," he answered sincerely. "Everyone is allowed a secret," he added with a smile and a wink.
Lyara was a little shocked to notice her loins tightened when he smiled at her. Her cheeks coloured slightly, and so to disguise her embarrassment, she engaged him in conversation and quickly asked him to tell her something about his life in the Companions.
He and Vilkas had spent the last couple of months collecting the various pieces of Wuuthrad. Kodlak had been doing an immense amount of research, determined to find all the pieces and reform the great axe of Ysgramor.
Farkas also told her a little of his history. He explained that he and his brother were orphans, and raised in an orphanage. They had joined the Companions when they were just 16. Skjor had been their trainer when they first arrived, and he taught them everything they knew.
"Skjor says that I have the strength of Ysgramor, and my brother has his smarts", he joked.