Noticed some people are reading and that I even have two followers, yayy.
So I guess i'll ave to keep working on this then. that gladdens me greatly.
So more chapters are coming as I get them done.

Please leave a comment if you like, and I'm always open to feedback.

Enjoy

Whelp

Training was murder. I didn't know if Skjor was trying to train me, or kill me.

I had been with the companions for bit over a month now, and gotten to know the lay of the place, as well as their rules and customs. The Companions had no form of leadership, and so every member had just as much a say as anyone else. No one was told what to do, and they all decided themselves on how to best search, or fight, for honor and valor. And whenever a contract arrived it would be placed on the wall, in the mead hall, for anyone to grab.

But since they all had joined in search of honor and glory, and to master their sword arm, they shared a common goal. And so they got along surprisingly well, and all behaved in such ways as to not ¨dishonor¨ themselves and, or their fellow shield-siblings. And everyone proudly earned their keep.

Even though there was no form of ranks the Companions were split in two groups, those who were members of the ¨Circle¨, and those who weren't.

The members of the Circle were easy enough to spot. Unlike the others they had all been given the characteristic gray Wolf-armor to wear, made by Eorlund. But the Circle, like said, had no real ranking power, and so their positions were more one of status, to show their time as members, and it also seemed to come with a number of responsibilities. They also served as guides and role models to the younger, newer, Companions. The members of the Circle also all had their own rooms in the living quarters, in the basement, and did not sleep in the shared bedroom with me and the others.

The members of the Circle were first and foremost Kodlak Whitemane, the old warrior who had convinced the others to let me join in the first place. He was the ¨Harbinger¨ and acted as the face of the Companions. He also acted as a ¨guide and adviser¨ for the group, and they often came to him asking for his wisdom.

Then there was Skjor. The balding man I had first met upon entering Jorrvaskr. He seemed to be around my father's age, maybe a bit older, in his early forties but was, just like Kodlak, surprisingly fit considering his age. He was also strict, to the point of ¨military¨, and it seemed he had taken upon himself to care for my training.

I didn't really like the man, and honestly he made me slightly nervous. I always got the feeling he was trying to ¨break¨ me during practice, as if he was trying to make me give up and leave. But I figured if I could just keep up with his torturous training I would impress enough for him to accept me. That said, he wasn't a bad trainer though,… on the contrary. After my first training with him he had already gotten rid of my blink-reflex and improved my stance notably.

Though I was sore for a week after that…

Then there was Aela the Huntress, a female warrior in her early thirties. She had brown-red, long, hair and silver-gray, sharp, eyes. But unlike the other members in the Circle she didn't wear the wolf-armor. She had a lighter version, made mostly from leather, furs and hides, which was only plated on her shoulders, hips and forearms. I could tell it was a design for agile movements. And since she was more the ¨hunter¨ type I figured she favored a bow, and needed the extra quickness to draw distance between herself and her opponents. She was also quite skilled with a short sword and shield.

She was often out hunting, or on missions, and I had only gotten to meet her once, when I had been tasked with delivering her, her shield. She, like Skjor, hadn't been impressed with me, and had even made fun of me over my duel with Vilkas.

And last there was the brothers Vilkas and Farkas. They were close in age, Farkas being younger. But they didn't seem much older than me, no more than two maybe three years. And so they were in their early twenties. They had both been born into the Companions, and so they had trained since they were old enough to hold a sword.

"I have a long way to catch up to them,… but I will." I had thought to myself.

After my duel with Vilkas, I had believed him to be ¨high of himself¨ and arrogant even. But as I came to know him better I realized he was quite the smart one, educated even. And what I had thought to be arrogance had simply been him already knowing I wouldn't stand a chance, he was honest like that. And as I came to realize he hadn't held back in our duel because he found it disrespectful and dishonorable to do so. I must admit,… I found myself to respect the man. So I made it my personal goal to one day return the favor,… of knocking him out in a duel.

Farkas had welcomed me like a brother from the get-go. He strongly thought of the Companions as his family, and so I had become part of his family the moment Kodlak had sent me out to duel Vilkas. We got along well,… he even joined in my training every now and then. Though he made it seem easy.

Like his brother he had black hair, hanging lose to his shoulders, and silver-blue eyes. But his face was far more contoured and rough, muscular even. He's physique was that of a brute. Broad shoulder, thick arms, wide back and chest. And he wielded a large sword, not made for a normal man. I was big for my age, slightly taller than him, but certainly not broader than him.

I also quickly came to realize he wasn't the ¨sharpest of tools¨, most of the time he didn't get jokes or simply stood around with a dumb look on his face. He had a good heart though.

"Skjor says I have the strength of Ysgramor, and my brother his smarts." He had told me as he showed me where I'd sleep, in the shared bedroom.

The others often made fun of him, both behind his back and to his face, for being… ¨not smart¨… he would always play it off and laugh with them.

But one evening I had gone along with Farkas to the Bannered Mare, the Tavern of Whiterun, to get rid of some troublemaking drunk. The drunk had insulted Farkas' intellect and Farkas had just snapped… He had walked up to the man and leaned forward, as if to shake his hand, and crushed the drunken man's hand simply by squeezing it with his own. He had continued to beat the man senseless and then throw him out into the market place, head first. I must have imagined it, but for a second it seemed as if he's eyes had glowed with rage.

"Some people don't think I'm smart. Those people get my fist." He had said, as we walked back to Jorrvaskr.

I learned three things that evening.

One; Farkas has a short temper.

Two; Only the Companions are allowed to make jokes about him.

And three; I never want to get on his bad side…

Then there were the Companions who, like me, weren't part of the Circle. They all, like the Circle, strove to perfect their war art, fight for honor, and make a name for themselves. Whenever a new contract came up on the wall they would all gather, to quickly grab, for themselves, the most exiting one. Whenever a contract was taken by someone they would ask for a ¨Shield-sibling¨, someone, of the Companions, willing to accompany them on their mission. If the contract holder didn't like his Shield-sibling he had the right to refuse him or her and ask for a new one, but no one ever went on a mission without a shield-sibling.

Aethis had been there the longest of the non-Circle embers. Well over 5 years. He was a ¨Dunmer¨, also known as ¨Dark elf¨.

"Even an Elf can be born with the heart of a Nord." Skjor had said.

The Dunmers originated from Morrowind, a large country over the mountains bordering Skyrim to the east. They had ashen-gray skin and red glowing eyes. It's said that a long time ago they were a race called the ¨Chimer¨ who wore golden skin and golden eyes but due to their search for godhood they were cursed by Azura herself, Deadric Prince of Dusk and Dawn and one of the Dunmers many Gods, and so their skin turned gray and their eyes red, so they would forever remember their mistake.

When the Red Mountain had erupted on Vvardenfell, a large volcano island in Morrowind, most Dunmers had to flee their homes. And so they mostly moved west, to Skyrim. I had learned that Aethis had ¨Crawled west out of the wasteland¨, as he had put it. But the Red Mountain had erupted about two hundred years ago, meaning he had to be well over two hundred years old, though not an uncommon age among the Elven races.

Other than his skin and eyes being Dunmer, Aethis had rust-red hair, held in a knot on top of his head. And he was skinnier than most Companions, but made up for it in speed and agility. He once bragged about taking down a giant by rolling behind the giant's feet, severing the Achilles tendons, and rolling away. And as the giant dropped to its knees, he had jumped on top of the giant, and slit its throat.

Aethis seemed to take his membership with utmost seriousness. He trained more than most of us and he was always the first one to grab a new contract. It wasn't a secret he aimed to be the first Elven-Harbinger and so I came to think he felt the need to overcompensate for being an Elf.

Njada Stonearm joined half a year after Aethis. So the two of them knew and trusted each other well, and usually worked together as Shield-sibling for one another. They both had short tempers however and tended to try and lead each other a bit too much, causing them to regularly go at each other's throats. It was the two of them who had been fighting when I had first arrived.

Njada had blond hair, which she usually kept short, under her helmet, and a small feminine face. She usually had a grumpy, stern, face and was in age closer to Aela. Aela was pretty much the only Companion Njada truly got along with. I figured it was because they were both strong female warriors.

Njada was a Shield maiden, and so she specialized in short sword and shield. Her skill with a shield was by far the most rumored in Jorrvaskr. Skjor once spoke how she would ¨dig her feet into the ground¨ and stand firm as a statue as she let her opponents tire themselves out against her shield. And when they had no energy left she'd just ¨scoop them of the ground¨.

Njada and I, however, didn't seem to get along to well, but not because of lack of effort though, but rather because she was,… well, she was a bitch… She respected strength. And if someone was weaker than her she considered them to be a ¨waste of breath¨, no matter how close the gap in skill was. She also didn't mind speaking her mind, and I once heard her ¨bite Skjors ears off¨. He had asked her to simply check the handle of his shield.

"If Eorlund made it, it's more likely you're gripping it wrong." she had snapped, nonchalantly.

I know there isn't a rank boost to being in the Circle, but still,… I wouldn't dare insult Skjor to his face, Circle or not.

Torvar was a different one. I quote honestly didn't know why he had stayed as long as he had. He constantly skipped out of training and seemed far more interested in Jorrvaskr's mead storage. He had joined a bit over a year ago and had since then constantly complained about not ¨climbing in fame¨, but he showed no signs of even trying to make an effort of earning fame. He would often get in barfights however, and I realized he wasn't a week man as he never lost. He was just,… lazy. Would he take his training and membership seriously he would certainly gain the renown he sought.

Torvard sported a blond full beard and had his blond hair in a knot, dropping down the back of his head. His eyes were sky blue, but almost always bloodshot from him being hangover. He seemed to be around the same age as Vilkas, maybe even a year older. Like Njada he used light leather armor, but preferred a small axe in battle.

I had wondered if he drank to forget some old trauma or sorrow. But as time went by I realized the man just wholeheartedly liked to be drunk, always laughing and cheering. He was also quite the singer. Filling our mead hall with song almost every evening, and usually some of the others joined in.

"Maybe that's why they had kept him? To keep the spirit up." I had thought one evening.

Lastly there was Ria. She was just a teenager, sixteen or seventeen. And had dark gray hair, almost black, set in braids down the sides of her face and head. She had joined the Companions just before me. But unlike me, who had had some training with my father, she had started from scratch. Though she was very enthusiastic, energy and positive and always took training with a smile.

She said she had dreamed about becoming a Companion since she was a little girl, and that her dream was to become as famed a Companion as Aela, who she adored.

I didn't think she was lying, but I did think there was more to her, joining the Companions, than a search for fame. After all, she had a tendency to turn red and start giggling whenever Vilkas would enter the same room as her.

But Jorrvaskr wasn't home only to the Companions. A few people lived there who weren't Companions. But they all earned their keep in other ways.

Vignar Gray-Mane lived there as well. He was a retired Companion, one of the few who had been strong enough to live to old age. He had been a Commander in the Imperial army for thirty years, but after the Great War and the signing of the White-Gold Concordant, which he disagreed with, he put that behind him. He looked to be at least twenty years older than Kodlak.

He was kind of the storyteller of Jorrvaskr, and he usual spent a lot of time with Vilkas, who had a great interest in history. Though I found he often repeated his stories, I guessed his age made him forget which story he had told who. Since he had a hard time walking stairs he had his living quarters in the western room of the mead hall, and not in the basement with me and the others.

The Gray-Manes were an old family, who run back to the founding days of Whiterun, and so they were quite respected in all of Whiterun. They had once been close to another founding family, the Battle-Borns, but the Battle-Borns had agreed with the White-Gold Concordant and after that the two families had turned into bitter rivals. Vignar could often be heard trash talking them.

Since Vignar was too old to fully care for himself he also had his ¨aid¨, Brill, living with him in Jorrvaskr. I never got to know Brill that well, but he seemed to handle Vignars everyday businesses and needs.

Then there was Vignars younger brother, Eorlund Gray-Mane. He worked the Skyforge just outside of Jorrvaskr and was considered the best blacksmith in Skyrim. He wasn't a Companion himself, but he found great pride in equipping us with Skyforge steel. He lived in the Wind District, middle layer of Whiterun, with his wife and three children. He was in his late fifties and, like Vignar, had thick white hair, running down to his chest.

And lastly there was Tilma ¨the Haggard¨, an old woman who had been with the Companions since she was a young girl. She had gray hair and a wrinkly old face with brown eyes. If I had to guess she would be around the same age as Vignar, but Vignar had said she had been there even before his time.

She served as maid, cleaning lady and cook. And some had come to call her ¨Mother of Jorrvaskr¨. She was kind and caring and threated everyone as her children, even Kodlak.