Chapter Six:
Fear of the Unknown
Morndas 12 Midyear 4E 199 2:16PM
After a rather long bath (Taryn and I had to be careful because of our wounds), Elana had snuck us back into our shared room. Ria stumbled down the stairs as Taryn and I were in the middle of the hall, clutching her head and moaning incoherently. That's what you get for drinking so much mead last night, I thought to the hung-over Imperial. She seemed to groan in agreement to my unsaid statement.
Taryn and I were finally in our shared room, Elana tending to Taryn's wounds (she had already seen to mine). "By the Nine, Taryn!" Elana exclaimed as she finished bandaging her daughter's leg. "It looks like you got into a fight with a Vargr!"
I couldn't stop the laughter that escaped my throat. "Well, I'm not technically a Vargr."
Elana blushed. "Sorry, Skadi. I forgot." She reached over to the table that Taryn and I shared, grabbing two red bottles. "Both of you, drink this." Obediently, I drank the healing potion. My back felt thousands of times better in a second. Taryn sighed in relief as the healing potion dulled the pain in her back and leg.
"Thank you, Elana," I murmured, setting the empty bottle back down on the table.
"Now," Elana stated, crossing her arms, watching the two of us intently. "I'm going to go upstairs and get you some lunch. You'll need to stay in the room for the rest of the day. There's no way we can explain the injuries you both sustained."
I rolled my eyes. "I can just say I got into a fight with a pack of sabrecats—." I bit my tongue at the glare Elana was giving me.
"Stay. Here," Elana hissed.
"Don't argue with her, Skadi. You'll lose," Taryn muttered.
"That's right," Elana replied cheerily. Without a second glance, she glided towards the door. "And no sneaking around." Taryn and I murmured an agreement of some sort unanimously.
When Elana left, my eyes returned to Taryn. Her entire torso was bandaged, seeing as how the gashes I inflicted on her last night traveled the length of her back. Only my upper torso was bandaged, but the bandages would be removed in an hour or two.
"All right," I began. "You owe me an explanation."
Taryn sighed, her shoulders tense. She opened her mouth a few times, perhaps to make an excuse, but she kept looking at my wounds and closing it. "Yeah, I do," she finally murmured.
She gestured to the chair that was opposite her. Carefully, I made my way over to the it. My leg was almost done healing, but it still hurt to put pressure on it. I watched Taryn as I sat down. Her eyes seemed focused, as if she was carefully plotting the words out in her mind.
"See, my mom and my dad were together when my dad had just become Harbinger," she told me. "That meant he was part of the Circle—a Werewolf. After they got married, mom got pregnant. You know how it goes. Anyway, none of us were sure if I'd get the gene because he drank the blood, rather than the conventional means of becoming a Werewolf.
"Well, mom and dad kept close eyes on me after I was born. Even during puberty. Nothing happened. Their worries were gone. I didn't really mind, until I realized that the people I'd grown up with—Farkas, Vilkas, Aela, Hiemdall—were slowly becoming like my dad and leaving me behind. They were Companions. I wasn't."
My lips pursed as she explained herself. She was starting to feel left out because she wasn't a Werewolf? There were other Companions, like Ria, who weren't Werewolves, but I supposed that Taryn didn't grow up with them...
"So I set my sights on sailing." Taryn continued. "I figured that it'd be my place in the world, and the Companions would have theirs. I was fifteen when my dad went on a large contract with the rest of the Companions, spreading them out to get it done. Mom, Tilma and I remained behind. That day, I felt sick. Flu, I guessed. Could hardly eat a thing. In the night, I started heaving and getting chills, even though I was burning up. Mom was with me, and Tilma was helping out. I'm not sure if either of them knew what was going on. Even I didn't."
Taryn paused as she recalled that night. It wasn't unheard of that some Werewolves remember their first night, first kill. I wasn't one of them. But I had a feeling I had killed a Khajiit, seeing as how they'd become my favorite prey.
Taryn swallowed. "Mom had gone for more water when it happened. This incredible, searing pain rushed through me; I started transforming. Mom came back, and I remember holding onto her, hoping that having her there would make the pain go away. It didn't; it continued for hours, slowly turning my body into something else."
I remembered the first time. The blood that had traveled into my stomach, the searing pain it brought me... It felt like it was burning me from the inside out.
"And then I wasn't 'me' anymore." Taryn said quietly. "I can't remember anything after that, except when I woke up in my mom and dad's room. Everything was destroyed or flipped over. I couldn't grasp what had happened, but I wasn't a total fool about it. I knew it had something to do with me." Taryn paused. "It wasn't until I walked out into the hall and saw my mother sitting by the door that I realized what had happened. Skadi, I tried to eat my mother. I can't live with that. Now, if things get too stressful or any full moons come out, I transform. I run away from everyone to do it so I won't do the same as what I'd tried to do to my mom."
I wanted to tell her that she didn't have to run away, that there was a way to control herself. But now wasn't the time. "You aren't cursed, or pissed Hircine off?" I asked.
Taryn rolled her eyes. "I'm hereditary. I wasn't cursed by witches, wasn't turned after screwing Hircine over; I just am. This is who I am now. I don't want to be melodramatic, Skadi, but my life is over. I can't sail without fear of killing anyone. I can't go to the market on the full moon, can't take any hard contracts to get coin... I won't even be able to settle down with anyone. Ever. And I can't go to my dad about it because he'll blame himself. He'll blame the fact that he wasn't more careful and didn't take precautions. And I can't face my dad with this thing if I could rip his face off at a bad time."
Crossing my arms, I shook my head slowly. I hadn't been afraid of telling my parents what I was. But if I had known the outcome, then I might've been a little more hesitant when I had returned. But the fact that Taryn thought she couldn't do what she wanted because of her fear of hurting someone made me wonder what happened when she transformed.
"This is my burden to bear. If I share it, others'll try to shoulder it, but it's a massive weight that can crush them. I just... I need to figure it out. I've been living with it for two years, and I can't do a Gods-damned thing to fix it."
I bit my lip for a moment, deep in thought. "There is something you can do," I murmured, sitting upright. I've been living with this "burden" for nine years, after all.
Taryn scoffed, "Like what?"
"Tell your dad," I stated flatly. "Tell him what's going on, Taryn. It'd be better than having him find out one day when you're overly stressed or are cut by silver… or you kill someone."
Taryn opened her mouth to argue my point, but slowly she closed it, realizing that I was right. Kodlak needed to know about her lycanthropy. Crossing her arms, Taryn slid into her bed and pulled the covers over body, effectively ending the conversation.
"You can't hide from this, Taryn," I said as I walked to the bookshelf and scanned the shelf for another book. She grumbled an incoherent response. I formed a smile when I took a book down, opening it up to the front page. "Lycanthropic Legends of Skyrim," I read. Taking it, I strode over to my bed, sat in the middle, placed the book in front of me, and began reading.
"I had heard the same rumors as everyone else—that the province of Skyrim was awash in various forms of Lycanthropy. I had studied werewolves for some time, and was keen to see if these rumors of werebears were actually substantiated. I elected to pursue these studies in the warmer summer months in deference to my fragile constitution.
One quickly finds that common villagers are of practically no use in this land. Whereas in Cyrodiil, even the youngest child can tell you the true fauna that inhabit its environs, here I find alleged "wise men" recounting tales of unicorns and flying horses directly alongside their stories of werebears, so I don't put any stock in the rumors. They certainly have their traditions for warding off werebears (certain plants and ceremonies), but nobody can attest to even having seen one first-hand, much less possess any sort of artifact. Everyone has a cousin or a friend who saw one once, but when pressed, these stories fall apart."
A laugh bubbled in my throat, escaping my lips in a snicker.
"I don't wish to completely discount these stories, but I also must conclude that they may have spun out of some wild retelling of a particularly vicious, but mundane, bear. Legends can take a life of their own, particularly when there are grains of truth, as here we have the very real threat of werewolves. I worry that by spreading stories of a potentially false (or at least rare) beast, people may begin to discount the threat that real beasts pose. But if Skyrim's people choose to lead a backwards life, shrieking at shadows and clouds, I will not stop them.
The werewolves of this land are a curious sort. At least the legends of them. Given the Nord flair for bravado, I had expected to see werewolf pelts lining walls in the cities, werewolf heads on pikes, that sort of gaudy show. Instead, few people in civilized society ever mentioned them, and my questions were usually met with nervous stares."
A low, menacing snarl began in the pit of my stomach, traveling upwards. Silver Hands…
"Thinking that perhaps the common folk were simply more cowardly than I had been lead to believe by my Nordic acquaintances in Cyrodiil, I sought out those known for actual bravery. The supposedly fearless warrior band of Whiterun, the Companions, lost all color when I broached the subject, and asked me to leave. I had thought better of them, and was disappointed at how quickly brave men and women can be intimidated by stories."
"They obviously had a reason to tell you to leave," I murmured quietly, shutting the book closed after placing a ribbon in the binding so that I could continue where I had left off.
Groaning quietly, I stood up and returned the book to its place. "You know," Taryn said as she turned over, her covers obscuring everything but her neck and face. "You're really clean for someone who lived in the wild. Hiemdall would leave my books and his stuff all over the place." I smirked, ensuring the book was back in place. "The only messy thing about you is your bed!"
My mouth opened, ready to reply, when Elana walked back in with two plates of food that were overflowing with the sustenance. My mouth began watering as the smells of cooked venison, a grilled chicken breast, baked potatoes, ale, and sweetrolls filled my mind.
Elana set the plates on the table and I was immediately seated in one of the chairs, digging into the large lunch. This made up for the lack of hunting last night. I wouldn't have to worry about hunting tonight either with the meal I was eating right now. "You obviously enjoy the meal." Elana grinned.
I swallowed my food, followed by a large gulp of ale. "S-Sorry Elana, I'm just really hungry after last night." I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. "Normally I wouldn't be so hungry, but I never hunted."
Elana laughed for a moment. Taryn joined me a moment later, eating her own food at a more moderate pace. One glance at Taryn told me that she was hungry—not for this kind of food.
"Well, you two eat that and find something to occupy yourselves until your wounds heal." Kissing Taryn's forehead, Taryn hugged her mother. Elana gave me a gentle hug (I tensed at the touch), then bounded off back to the main level of Jorrvaskr, closing the door firmly behind herself.
When I finished eating, I cleaned up the mess I'd made, walked to the door and placed the plate, glass, and cutlery outside in the hall near the door, knowing that Tilma would come by later and get it.
"Unbelievable!" Taryn exclaimed. "You lived in the wild for nine years! How do you have manners?!"
Again, I shook my head, grabbing the Lycanthropic Legends of Skyrim again. "You'd be surprised at the things you don't know about me, Taryn," I replied slyly, offering her a wink. I bet she thought I was a savage. Basic knowledge, basic reading and writing skills… I grinned at the thoughts.
Before she could reply, I plopped down on my bed, opened to the page where I had left off, and continued to read for the rest of the afternoon.
Morndas 12 Midyear 4E 199 10:57PM
I felt a cool breeze across my face, alerting me to the fact that either someone entered the room or someone left the room. I opened my eyes slowly to see a shadow leaving the room. When Taryn closed the door again, I got to my feet, slipping my leather boots on and grabbing the knapsack that I had packed a few hours prior, and pursued Taryn.
I pressed myself against the wall, my neck craned around the corner, watching as Taryn walked up to the main level of Jorrvaskr. Mentally counting to ten, I made my way up the steps, crouching low when I spotted Taryn, hand on the door. Poking my head up so I could see better, I realized that Taryn had her other arm wrapped around her torso in a vain attempt to hold in her wolf.
Let it out. Just let it out, I thought to her. About a second later, Taryn shoved the door open. Sighing, I followed her outside, remaining in the shadows. She entered the Underforge after making certain she was alone. The wind was blowing against my face, meaning that I was upwind from Taryn. I stayed in my spot, and then moved to the outpost, watching as Taryn ran into the prairies, towards Riverwood.
"Heading south then?" I murmured absently, quickly running to the Underforge, exiting through the secret passage, and running along the trade road, keeping Taryn within my sights. I wasn't hunting tonight; my wolf was still sated from the large lunch (and even larger dinner) that Elana had given us. I wanted to see how bad Taryn was in her Beast Form.
I followed Taryn's sent through the tall grass, trying to remain as quiet as I could. I was better sneaking in my wolf form rather than my human form. A few small animals scattered out of my way (nearly giving me a heart-attack), but other than that, I was mostly silent.
I hid behind an outcropping of rocks, watching closely as Taryn began to transform. If I had lost visual sight of her as we ran, her screams would alert me to her location. The transformation took longer than it should have, probably because she was fighting the urge to transform, trying to contain the wolf.
When the transformation was done (taking several more minutes than I'd ever taken), Taryn roared to the sky, lowered herself to the ground, and took off towards Falkreath Hold. I just prayed that there weren't any travelers out.
Tirdas 13 Midyear 4E 199 10:21AM
My silver eyes were focused on the yellow-orange flames along with the large portion of venison that I had been cooking for the past hour-and-a-half. However, my mind wandered back to last night. Taryn had absolutely no control over her transformation. If I didn't know any better, she reminded me of myself when I had gone on my killing spree (which had dubbed me the "Savage of Skyrim").
She was close to be considered a Vargr—yet another thing to use to convince Taryn to tell Kodlak. I wouldn't tell him. This was between she and him; I just needed to convince Taryn to tell Kodlak before the unthinkable happened and she killed an innocent person.
I just need to know why she's so scared to transform. There's always a reason for being fearful of the wolf. Granted, it took me nearly four years for me to stop being fearful of the wolf and let it do as it pleased (that's how I had learned control over my wolf), but Taryn was new to it, and had seen it happen maybe hundreds of times. If she was jealous of the Companions for having kinship through their Beast Blood, then why wasn't she embracing it?
A few birds chirped nearby, the sound relaxing me entirely. It'd been too long since I was last out here. The last time I was out here, was when I had killed Do'Rak and Kodlak had found me mere moments before I was about to indulge on the dead Khajiit warrior.
A yawn escaped my mouth. I'd slept perhaps five hours. I fell asleep almost immediately after I was positive that we were safe and Taryn would be okay.
Soft groans reached my ears, alerting me to Taryn waking up. Craning my neck to look at her, she turned in her sleep. I didn't think she knew I had made camp, set up a tent, bedroll, or covered her up with numerous blankets. Despite having Beast Blood (which granted complete resistance to any diseases), waking up cold wasn't fun. I brought my concentration back to the food and fire.
"What in Oblivion—?!" Taryn exclaimed hoarsely as she shot up. I turned my head to see her pulling the furs and blankets tightly over her body. "You can cook?!"
I laughed, returning my eyes to the venison that was nearly done. "Like I said earlier, Taryn: there're a lot of things you don't know about me." I flipped the venison over again, inhaling slightly. "Can you wait a few more minutes? The venison is almost done." The best thing about my Beast Blood? Cooking was ten-times easier.
"Yeah," Taryn replied, her voice beginning to return.
I reached to my left, grabbed my knapsack and tossed it at Taryn's feet. "There're some trousers, a tunic, and a pair of shoes in there," I murmured absently, my eyes focusing on the fire and food. "Frankly," I continued, grinning, "I would've been more shocked to wake up covered with blankets and furs, and sleeping on a bedroll with a tent shielding me from the weather."
Taryn's eyes must've been wide, but I was too busy watching the venison cook. "H-How did I get here?!" she exclaimed.
I huffed. "You crashed near Helgen," I told her. "I think you were chasing some wolves or something." I grinned. "When I found you, I covered your front up, picked you up by your underarms and dragged you to a secluded spot so I could set up camp."
When she was dressed, Taryn crawled over to the fire; her green eyes were lit with hunger, her hands outstretched to warm them. "How did you manage to keep up with me?"
I pulled the venison from the fire, sniffed, and then placed it on the edge of the fire. "I followed your scent. Regardless of what form I'm in, I pride myself on my sense of smell." A few minutes later, I pulled the venison away from the fire; offering it to Taryn.
"Thanks," she smiled, eating the venison as fast as she dared, not wanting to burn her mouth. "Bless the Divines, this is good!" Taryn exclaimed, attempting to eat faster but still trying to be cautious of how warm the food was.
I blushed slightly at the compliment. "It'd be better if I had some salt and seasoning. I don't remember the exact recipe, but I know I need salt, some sort of seasoning, and something else that I can't remember exactly." I continued to stoke the fire to keep it going.
It was silent for a few minutes. "I'm not going to tell you what to do," I began, my eyes hard with determination. "But I wish you would tell Kodlak about your lycanthropy."
Taryn brought her legs up to her chest, her chin resting on her knees. "I'm just... scared to. I said that last night!"
I offered her what I hoped was a sympathetic stare. "You won't know what happens until you say the words. 'Dad, I'm a Werewolf'." I sighed, recalling the reactions my own parents had when I told them.
"I suppose you're right," Taryn muttered. "How far are we from Helgen?"
I craned my neck to look towards Helgen. "A good distance away. We should be home by late afternoon."
"Good," Taryn declared. "It'll give me some time to figure out how I'm going to explain this," she said, gesturing to her body, "to him."
"I'm sure he'll understand, Taryn. He is your dad after all."
At least, I hoped he would understand.
