Sorry for the delay, folks! I spent a few days squinting at Word, just wondering what on Earth I was going to write, and just muddling through. Write-write-eat-sleep-write-eat-eat-read-read-write, you know? Maybe you don't, that's okay. I just hate writers block.
Well, hope you enjoy! Please review, if you like what you see!
Lenay didn't remember much of the trip back. It was a sort of horrible nightmare; dragging Aela a few feet, then going back for Freya, who weighed so much more. Never being able to turn her head for a second, in fear a saber cat or a pack of wolves would swoop down and nab which ever she had her back turned on. All Lenay was really certain about at that moment was that she was never, ever going to use her shoulders again. No; she'd just retire them right then and there. A person could retire their shoulders, right? Not that the rest of her body was any happier.
Vaguely she could hear deep voices whispering over her, perhaps discussing her condition. Slowly, ever so slowly, her focus returned. Lenay cracked her eyes open.
"Hey," smiled Farkas, and Lenay could feel his big hands surrounding her right with warmth. The woman groaned slightly as she shifted, and used her free hand to wipe at her face.
"Never mind… I hate hagravens more than bandits. I've never been so sore in my entire life." Lenay moaned, and Farkas chuckled.
"Aela and Freya are alright. They only woke up about an hour ago, and we've been filled in on your little adventure." The big man patted her hand, and she laughed bitterly.
"Good. Not that it was much of a story. We went out, tried to hunt, got lured into a trap, and I ended up lugging a full-grown woman in iron armor and a horse-sized wolf halfway across Whiterun. If it was any more uphill I would've given up and killed them both." Lenay snorted at the end, and Farkas patted her once more.
He helped her up out of bed, and when she stood, she arched her back like a cat and started doing a series of elaborate stretches that made Farkas hurt just looking at her. He leaned against the doorframe and watched curiously as she twisted back and forth.
"How in the world did you ever get so flexible?" he asked in awe.
"No thanks to me," laughed Lenay, "My tutor insisted. He wanted well-rounded students. Figuratively. When I left, I kept on doing the exercises as habit, and it's gone on to save me a few times. It's amazing what being flexible will do for you," she grinned, standing back up straight.
"Interesting tutor," said Farkas as he led her out into the hall, eyebrows raised. Lenay remained silent a second before answering, reminiscing.
"Yes. I went to a… special school. I learned a bit of history, and how to read and write, but mostly I was taught things that would help me stay alive. Some days I wish I could go back…but there wouldn't be anything there for me." The black-haired woman stared into space until Farkas's voice yanked her back.
"Why not? Surely your tutor would like to see you again," he prompted, and the two stopped in the middle of the hall. Lenay shook her head sadly.
"Master Torvin could fight off everything. Everything, that is, except old age. Maybe I'll go see his resting place sometime. He was the only father I've ever had." Lenay dropped into a whisper in her last sentence, feeling a momentary flash of grief squeeze her heart.
Lenay hugged herself, feeling Farkas's eyes on her. With Vilkas it would have felt judgmental, calculating… but with Farkas she only felt his sympathy. She sniffed slightly, and then continued on down the hall, Farkas's hand resting on her shoulder.
Vilkas was peeking at Freya's burns from the corner of his eye. He sipped (rather than chugged) his mead, more for visibility issues than for actual politeness. From his vantage point, all Vilkas could see of Aela was her elbow from where it stuck out behind Skjor. He'd stood by and helped Tilma clean the blood from the woman, and he'd seen the giant crescent scar. And that was the reason he didn't stare too closely at the big she-wolf.
Still, the burns looked horrific. The fur was burned away, leaving the angry red skin marred and blistered. Vilkas looked up as a warm breath brushed against his hair. Freya was leaning over him, her eyes questioning. Fortunately for her, her face had been untouched by the flames, and her startlingly-green eyes were just fine.
"Tell me, Vilkas, while everyone is too busy talking to overhear… Are you a werewolf?" her Imperial accent showed through a little on her o's, and the man remembered to conversation with his brother on the wolf's past. He wasn't sure he bought it, but the little things tended to convince him, like the way she sometimes lifted her paw as she spoke, as if she were trying to speak with her hands.
Before he could answer, a quiet cheer rose from the Companions, and Vilkas turned to watch Lenay walk stiffly to her chair and then slowly sit down. Farkas booted Athis out of the chair next to Lenay and fell back into it, and then laughed as the woman said something lost in the noise of the hall. Vilkas felt a twinge of jealousy that he quickly put down to not knowing what the joke was, and turned back to Freya, who had continued watching him.
"Yes. Lenay doesn't know, and don't tell her. Don't know what she'd do." Vilkas finished the last of his mead and placed the empty tankard firmly on the table. Freya nodded, and flicked her ears. Then she tensed.
"Vilkas… come outside with me for a moment," the wolf requested, and stood when Vilkas nodded. He opened the door for her (it was incredibly hard to open a door with teeth, he reckoned) and then they were behind Jorrvaskr. Freya's hackles raised up along her back, and her neck ruff slowly rose up as she stood stiffly in front of him.
Vilkas stood at the ready, allowing the wolf inside the swell out his cage a little, but he felt nothing. Whatever the problem was, the beast inside didn't think it was a threat. Freya obviously felt differently.
Just when he thought he should call Freya back inside, a shadow moved. It moved forward, and the figure stepped into the light. A young man, a boy, even, stood tall in the light. He looked foreign, with fine features contrasting with a strong jaw. Ear length blond hair fell into gray eyes, and his muscled arms were marred with countless scars. Then he smiled at the wolf, who had frozen.
Vilkas thought the smile set her off. With a snarl she launched herself at him, and for a second she was silhouetted by one of the moons before she crashed into the boy. The big man drew his sword when a loud crack split the air, but was quickly backing up.
A black wolf wrestled with the white wolf now, and then the two were apart, bristling all over.
"How?" Freya roared, and the other wolf growled at her.
"If you'd just let me explain, Freya, I'll tell you!" he barked, his ears flat against his massive skull. Vilkas let his sword arm hang beside him, even though his instincts were rearing for him to charge now and ask questions later. If he'd thought Freya was big, this wolf was enormous.
They breathed hard for a couple of seconds, regaining their breathes, when the black wolf started.
"First thing first, Telken and Jaegr are alright. They left a short while after you did. I think they might be in Cyrodil." He paused until Freya gave a sharp nod.
"Second thing, is I can't… I can't make you human again." He flinched when Freya snarled, lashing his tail back and forth in agitation.
"It's not that I won't!" He cried out quickly, "It's that I can't! You've got to do it yourself. For me, it took a moment of intense panic, and only then was I able to switch back and forth between human and wolf." He crouched there on the ground until Freya relaxed. They stared through each other's chests, not challenging with their eyes, like Vilkas knew to do when he was around Angry-Aela.
Then, with a blur of motion and another sharp crack, the boy was hugging Freya around the neck while she whimpered and wagged her tail. Vilkas let his gaze wander the courtyard and proceeded to pick food from his teeth, not sure he should be there.
"Durgan, you idiot. What are you doing here?" Freya asked when they pulled apart again.
"I heard of a gigantic wolf who spoke that fought a dragon!" Durgan laughed, "And I knew it had to be you! No one else would be crazy enough besides the Dragonborn himself!"
"Herself," corrected Vilkas without thinking, leaning against one of the overhang's columns. The boy turned and stared at him hostilely, suddenly suspicious.
"The Dragonborn is a woman," he said, not really sure why he was purposely attracting the attention of a wolf.
"And who are you?" Durgan growled arrogantly, and Vilkas was sure he saw Freya roll her great green eyes.
One of the doors behind him opened and light flooded out, and then from the corner of his eye he saw Lenay walk up beside him before the door swung shut and the light cut out again.
"Who is this?" she asked innocently, but Vilkas could make out her tense shoulders.
"He's an old friend, Lenay. His name is Durgan," Freya replied, bumping the boy with her shoulder when he tried to speak.
"Well, I don't mean to break up the party, but I'm leaving Whiterun with Farkas, for Dustman's Cairn. We've got a fragment of Wuuthrad to reclaim!" she slapped the hilt of her sword at the end, punctuating her sentence.
"Do you need help?" Freya asked, but Lenay shook her head.
"No, you catch up with your friend. Plus, I'm pretty sure Skjor wants this done with as few people as possible. Sometimes I think he's worse than you, Vilkas," Lenay said, turning around and patting Vilkas on the shoulder as she walked back inside.
"Thanks?" he called after her, and Freya laughed.
As soon as Farkas heaved the cast iron door open with his shoulder, Lenay knew this was going to leave a bad taste in her mouth. The smell of death rose from the deeper recesses of the crypt, and several draugr lay on the floor. She kept her bow loaded and the string pulled back. Once you'd had been in a crypt once, you learned caution fast. Or you became another dancing skeleton in the depths.
The first time she had seen a draugr, she had nearly panicked. The only reason her arrow had managed to find the thing's temples was because she had been at point-blank range. Farkas guarded her rear as she sneaked silently through the corridors. The first draugr she saw was a walker. She quickly shot him through the face without him ever knowing what hit him, and then retrieved her arrow. But the walkers weren't the problem. The problematic ones were the draugr that only got up out of bed after you walked past, and then scared the living snot out of you later. All in all, Lenay hated draugr. She had a list of things she hated. 1. Trolls (Their lurching steps unnerved her) 2. Draugr (For reasons listed above) and 3. Bandits (Mostly because they were unhygienic idiots. They were nice in that they were easy to dispatch). The list went on a ways, ending in things like 67. Weakling guards, and 82. The sound quills made.
Lenay led Farkas into a large chamber with two doorways, one of which was gated.
"Why don't you go ahead and grab that lever?" Farkas gestured to the open doorway, which only led to a smaller chamber. She waltzed in without worry and pulled a lever, and heard a clang. Turning around, she saw a problem.
"Oh, shit." She laced her fingers through the grate and gave it a good kick. Heaving, she tried to lift it, but the thing probably weighed far more than a mammoth. That's what it felt like, anyway.
"Don't worry, I'll find the other lever," Farkas snickered, then turned as voices came from the doorway they had come through. Without pausing, he drew the massive sword from his back and waited. Lenay fumbled at her back for her bow, but she had left it on the ledge outside the chamber.
"It's time to die, dog!" A man shouted, and Lenay scrambled furiously at the gate, trying with all her might to yank it up.
"We knew you'd be coming here…" Another growled, almost laughing.
"Your mistake, Companion!" That one had a slight imperial accent.
"Which one is that?" A woman, the only one there, almost sounding curious.
"Doesn't matter. He wears the armor, he dies." Lenay gave up, watching in silent horror.
"Killing you will make for an excellent story!" The woman screamed triumphantly.
"None of you will be alive to tell it." Farkas growled, his voice raspy. Lenay watched with an open mouth as his back hunched and he grew taller, his feet twisted and his arms elongated, and he grew tail and fur all over his body. The werewolf-Farkas roared, and then promptly ripped apart the attackers. Lenay backed up until her butt hit the wall, eyes wide in shock. Blood splatters covered the room, and Farkas came back into sight. She jerked her gaze up at the ceiling quickly.
"Hope I didn't frighten you… what's wrong?" Farkas asked, and Lenay laughed.
"I may not be innocent, Farkas, but go cover yourself up," she giggled into her hand, still avoiding looking at him. After he had clothed himself and opened the gate, she stood watching him with crossed arms.
"Is there any reason you didn't tell me?" the woman asked, an eyebrow raised.
"Don't be offended, very few people know. We don't give it out as free information." He replied, and Lenay's other eyebrow went up.
"We?"
"Yeah, the Circle. Me, Vilkas, Aela, Skjor, and Kodlak. It's a secret to everybody."
"So who were those guys?"
"The Silver Hand."
"Sounds like a scary book."
"Hahahaha, no, just a bunch of self-righteous werewolf hunters."
"So… The Vigilantes of Stendarr only less funding?"
Farkas laughed at that, and they continued on. After shooting dozens of Silver Hand and draugr, she picked the heavy metal fragment off the alter and killing the resulting ambushers, she stared at the metal shard with disdain.
"We came all this way for this? I had to see the living dead and you naked for this? I'm going to murder Skjor in his sleep." She dropped the fragment into her bag while Farkas chuckled.
"Have a little respect, it's older than both of us combined," he smirked as they climbed the stairs out.
"So… it's what, fifty years old?" she joked, and heaved open the heavy door. And let out a shriek.
"What, what is it?" he yelped, trying to look over her shoulder, but got an elbow in the stomach in return as she drew her bow and fired. Only then did she step out of the doorway, allowing Farkas to see.
A man in jester's clothes kneeled on the grass, curled in on his stomach. He drew his hands away from his abdomen, revealing an arrow sticking out. He looked at his bloodstained hands, and then back up at Lenay.
"Oh. You shot Cicero." He looked shocked. Then he let out a giggle.
A/N* So sorry if you hate game dialogue. But please, I spent an hour watching Youtube videos, trying to find it. Have you any idea how many adolescent male players play as girls?
