Well, finally, back to the COmpanions! :D Let me know what you guys thought? ^^


The Stormcloak brigade traveled along the main road for about two or three hours, the sun gradually rising higher in the sky above them. It was around noon when they deviated and began crossing the plains to the side of the giant city, sneaking past the giant camp and swiftly taking down any sabre cats that were attacking them.

The two wounded soldiers had been patched up and were back in fighting shape in a brief amount of time. They eagerly followed Stormbade as she led the way, telling one group to watch the back while they crossed over the hilly terrain. Short and light conversation came up every once in a while when one soldier made a witty remark or such.

One o'clock came around and the Imperial camp was beginning to show itself on the horizon, a small fire burning in the middle and a blacksmith hammered away on an anvil while nearby guards patrolled the immediate area. The guards were more spread out, being as far away as fifty yards from home base. Aeiron quickly ruled out the use of another grenade to rile them up.

She looked to her second in command, nodding to him and then pointing at several soldiers and pointing to the far off right. The five nodded and began to quickly make their way to one side of the area with little to no noise being given off. Aeiron then counted another five and sent them to the left. Looking at Ralof, she paused, an idea appearing before she resumed her counting. He was grouped in the next set of five and the general made a u-turn gesture with her hand.

The captain nodded and turned to his small unit, studying them for a moment before he began creeping along the right. Aeiron was left with five Stormcloaks now, one woman and four men. "Alright guys," she sighed, unsheathing the dagger that she kept at her thigh and crouched down. "I'll be taking out the patrolling guards." She crept a step forward before turning around to look at them once more. "Hide behind the rocks and wait for my signal to come out and start charging towards the camp." Raising a finger, she pointed at one of the male soldiers. "Thoren, you're in charge for now."

He blinked at her, but nodded at her. "Aye, General."

Aeiron smirked, winking at them before continuing on. She began rolling out over the flat parts and hud behind another pile of rocks when one Imperial soldier began heading her way. A word aligned itself in the dark in her mind. Bright letters in the dov language burned brightly in the darkness. "Las," the word left her mind and traveled out through her mouth. Darkness, then the constant sunlight came back. The red glowed brightly. She saw three clusters surrounding the camp and a few separate specters standing alone. One of them paused right by the rock pile that Aeiron was hiding behind and then turned around.

A smirk appeared on her lips as she watched the red light in front of her begin to walk away and then vanish. She crept out from behind the rocks and quietly moved in closer on the prey with silent movements. When she was a foot away, the general popped up and pulled the enemy soldier down to the ground with her. The dagger embedded itself in the man's throat as he squirmed and then went limp and pliable. Aeiron pulled out the knife before carrying on.

There were about four more patrollers in the area by the camp, and they all went down without much struggle. The general sighed and pulled back after slicing the last one's throat cleanly. She looked down at the ground and wiped the blood off in the grass before looking up and noting how close she was to the camp. About twenty five steps walking upright would place her by the very last tent. She noted how everyone was acting in the camp, how some soldiers were carrying on casually, how the blacksmith was working on forging new weapons for them, and then there was the Legate who was studying the map on a table.

A courier then approached him, saluting the commanding officer before handing a piece of paper. The man took it and then dismissed the messenger. She watched as he opened the paper with her acutely trained eyes. The look on the man's mask told her he was taken aback by whatever was on the message. "Soldiers!" He shouted now. The calm over the hills was disrupted. "Be on the lookout for any Stormcloaks! They just wiped out the Thalmor camp by Riverwood!"

A Thalmor mage then got up by his seat beside the Legate and snatched the paper from the Imperial, eyeing it before tossing it to the side. "I highly doubt a bunch of half wit Nords could pull of a stunt like that. The Dragonborn is still in-"

"The Dragonborn was seen leaving Whiterun almost a day ago with about twenty or so Stormcloaks in tow." The Legate countered with a heightened tone of voice.

Silence.

Aeiron smirked once more and began reaching for her bow. She slowly drew an explosive arrow out of the quiver on her back and lined it in her sights. The chuckle that escaped her couldn't be suppressed when Aeiron saw the color leave the High Elf's face. "W-What?"

"I'm afraid so…"

She let the breath in her lungs leave her and then come back just as easily. "What should we do?" the Justicar turned to the Legate. Half a breath left the general before she let go of the arrow, aiming for the High Elf's throat. When his head exploded cleanly off of his neck as the arrow lodged itself in his neck, the Legate stood there stunned as the Imperial watched the corpse fall back into the tent.

Aeiron meanwhile, was loading another arrow as the Legate turned to scan the nearby area. By the time his eyes widened when seeing the Stormcloak general, she released the second arrow. When the second man fell dead, she stood up and whistled loudly. The Stormcloaks began moving in on the camp within a few seconds.

"STORMCLOAKS!" One Thalmor agent shouted. It did her no good, however, as Aeiron's axe blade wound up digging through her back in the next instant. The general kicked the corpse off of her weapon before moving on to her next victim. She never got tired of the dancing; she never felt a thing. All movement was on auto-pilot.

The switch seemed to flip off when Aeiron turned to see an Elf swing their sword down on Ralof's back. The captain fell to the ground. The general froze. The dance stopped. "RALOF!"


"What time did she leave?" Kodlak raised an eyebrow at the Housecarl. Lydia sighed as she leaned against one of the support columns by the patio while crossing her arms.

"Around midnight." The woman answered with a shrug. "She told me she would be gone for about a week." Her eyes hung heavy as she tried to remain awake. Her Thane had been ever so obnoxious with her cynical laughter as usual. It was a wonder she could fall asleep again…

"Did she say what business?" The Harbinger asked.

"I had a job for her." The two turned their heads to see Vignar walking up the steps alongside the old mead hall. "It was an emergency, I assure you." the Jarl sighed and put his hands on his hips as he looked down at his friend. "Once she comes back from her errand, I'm sure she'll want to do any jobs you have for her."

Kodlak nodded wordlessly and picked up his tankard of ale before taking a large sip. After slowly setting down the metal cup, he looked up at the Gray-Mane once more. "Where, exactly did you send her off to?"

Vignar sighed with hesitation. "I can't say at the moment. Top-secret. Rest assured, you'll be the first to know once the situation has been dealt with."

"You mean the issue with the Thalmor patrols passing by Whiterun for nearly a month now?" Kodlak raised an eyebrow at the older man. The doors opened in back of him and Skjor and Aela came outside, closing the doors softly behind them.

"Harbinger."

"What is it, Skjor?"

The one-eyed man sighed. "A message for you." He handed Kodlak a small slip of paper. "They wouldn't say who they were, but that it was in the utmost importance that you got this."

Frowning, he took the paper and then nodded up at the other Companion. "Thank you, Skjor." While he began opening it, Aela and Skjor slipped inside as quietly as they had come out. Kodlak's eyes slowly rolled over the paper as he read the neat handwriting on the parchment. With a sigh, he folded the paper and then handed it to Lydia. "This has something to do with Aeiron."

She took the paper without much hesitation and read it herself. "You're kidding me!"

The Jarl raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"

"I…I don't know…Some sort of cryptic code…" Lydia showed the parchment to the Jarl. Vignar's eyes widened and his breath hitched.

"Those markings are Celtic…"

"But," Kodlak spoke up. "I thought the Thalmor wiped out the Celts." The other old man chuckled and shook his head at the Harbinger.

"Kodlak, these are Aeiron's ancestors we're talking about! The Thalmor could only hope to wipe out the Celts!"

"Forgive me, but who exactly are they?" Lydia spoke up with a puzzled expression.

"The Celts, Lydia, are a group of mostly Nord tribesmen residing in northern-Cyrodiil, southern-Skyrim. They have little Elven blood in them, but that's what makes them different from everyone else. They may look like Nords, but they're slightly shorter than the norm. Their mixed blood also makes them more advanced in fighting."

The Housecarl blinked and nodded quietly. Vignar looked at the paper once more and pointed to one of the symbols. "That's the Celtic symbol for "lion". Look familiar?"

Lydia and Kodlak looked at the featured symbol and stared at it. The Housecarl then remembered where she had seen it before. "That's the symbol on Aeiron's battle axe!"

The Jarl nodded with a dry smile. "They're nomadic for the most part, but they tend to live in elevated areas. Not many of them are left, but the ones that are usually have an animal of some sort to represent themselves. Phil used horse to represent himself. Aeiron apparently was chosen as a lion."

By now, some of the other Companions had been quietly coming out onto the patio for lunch and training and had been listening in, including Skjor, Aela, and the twins. Vilkas overheard the last part and raised an eyebrow. "How come there are no books on these "Celts?" he couldn't help but to ask with a skeptical brow.

Vignar looked up at him and shrugged. "I only know so much as Aeiron and her father have told me."


Aeiron grunted with the weight as she walked Ralof along the road, his arm slung around her shoulders as she held him up with trembling arms and legs and staggering breath. Whiterun gates were slowly coming into view, thankfully. The rest of the battalion stayed at the conquered Imperial camp and rummaged through everything while the general carried her second in command all the way to the nearest city. "We're gonna make it, Ralof. We're gonna make it…"

The two were passing by the stables and Aeiron stumbled somewhat when tripping over a stray rock. "Aeiron…" the older man groaned through gritted teeth. She treated the wound to the best of her ability, closing it with a hot knife and wrapping it up; but he needed to see a healer, and fast. Ralof only heard her heavy breathing in response as he felt the smaller woman tremble beneath his weight.

"Hang on, Ralof. We're almost…" She exhaled heavily, as if almost out of breath. "There." They passed over the draw bridge and began rounding the turn that lead up to the small slope of a path towards the large gates. "GUARDS! OPEN THE GATES!"

The guards standing by the gates stiffened and then scampered to open the gates when they saw the general carrying the man on her back. The doors slowly opened before the brunette as she paused at the opening, body shaking with limbs that felt like jelly. As she began stumbling into the city, the general pointed to the nearest city guard. "You! Get a healer from the temple! HURRY!"

The Stormcloak nodded and ran up the stairs to her left as she continued onward, passing by Adrianne and Breezehome. "It's alright, Ralof." She muttered under her breath more to herself than to the half-conscious captain who weakly nodded in reply. "We're gonna get you a healer. You'll be fine. You'll be fine."

His hand gripped her shoulder with a small ounce of whatever strength he could muster as he looked up to her contorted face as she struggled about. Her ears blocked out the gasps and whispers that the people in the market place gave off when she passed by. The city guard standing by Belethor's shop rushed over to them. "Stormblade!"

"Go get the Jarl!" She ordered over her shoulder. The guard nodded and ran past them up the steps. Aeiron slowly began walking herself and the barely-conscious captain up the steps to the wind district. "HEALER! WHERE THE BLOODY HELL IS A HEALER?!"

The party sitting outside on Jorvaskr's patio froze at the voice. Lydia immediately stood up and ran around the building. "Aeiron!" Vignar immediately followed while Kodlak sighed heavily. Farkas stood up and began running when his brother raised an eyebrow at him.

"Where do you think you're going, Brother?"

The stronger of the two men turned to face the smarter of the two. "Aeiron's back. She might need help." Vilkas' scowl immediately vanished as he silently followed his brother to the front of the mead hall. He froze when he saw the Stormcloak general dragging the other man towards the Gildergreen, hunched over to the point of where she looked like she would fall over at any second now.

A healer from the Temple of Kynerath followed one of the city guards as they took the wounded soldier off of the general's back. Aeiron straightened herself as she watched them carry the captain off into the shrine with heavy breath and slits for eyes. Her knees knocked underneath her and finally gave as she tried to walk forward. Vilkas then saw the Housecarl immediately run towards her. "My Thane!"

The general brushed her off, waving at Lydia with a dismissive hand. "I'm fine…" She tried to stand up again but her legs gave once more. Vilkas rolled his eyes and pushed past his brother and Aela, briskly walking over the small bridge to the Gildergreen and then stopping in front of the general. "Get up." He spoke.

Aeiron scowled up at him, her slits for eyes turning an ice blue color from their weakening blue-gray. Her hands pushed off of the ground as he legs tried to support her weight for the third time. She still couldn't get up. The general then fell flat on her stomach this time, still trying to get up off of the ground.

His hand grabbed her arm and then Vilkas pulled her up, one arm wrapping around her knees while the other supported her back. Aeiron's eyes were closing on their own, but she felt cold armor against the skin of face and limbs and then felt the vibration of footsteps as if someone was walking, followed by the loud noises that the armor gave off as he moved. She let herself relax at the familiar feeling of being carried like the way she currently was, only it was a long time ago and her father's arms held her more securely.

Farkas watched as his brother carried the newest Companion up the steps and then pass him by as he kicked open the front doors and walked inside Jorvaskr. The brother smirked and looked up at a worried Lydia before walking inside and sitting down at the table.

"I'm sure Aeiron will be fine, Lydia." He turned to look at the woman with a reassuring smile. Lydia sighed and hesitantly nodded.

"I suppose so…"

Farkas then got up, holding two bottles of ale. He walked over to the Housecarl and handed her one before opening his bottle and taking a long swig of the alcohol.

Vilkas, meanwhile, walked down the steps to the downstairs area slowly. Aeiron was already sleeping soundly in his arms by the time he reached the flight of stairs. He glanced down at her as he carried her into the Whelps' quarters. The Companion paused, searching the room before spotting her bed towards the right end of the room. He slowly made his way over and delicately set her down on the bed before taking off her axe and setting it against the wall while holding her up with one hand.

After that, he guided her back onto the bed, picking up her legs and aligning her body as well as he could. Vilkas finally got a good look at her face; blood stained and clearly worn out. He couldn't help but think how delicate she looked lying on the spare bed. The man shook his head, sighing lightly before leaving the room as quietly as he could and then heading back upstairs.