A/N: A few things, before reading on. I'd like to thank all of my readers for reading my story, and especially all of my original readers who have come this far, for being patient. I don't want to make excuses - suffice it to say that I am currently much, much busier in my day to day life than I'd like to be. Thanks for sticking around, and I hope you continue to enjoy the story.
As you've all noticed, this chapter is MASSIVE. It's bigger than anything I've ever done before for a single chapter, and I don't know that I'll ever make another chapter its size. I thought long and hard about splitting it into two, but I ultimately decided that this is the format I wanted; it's dialogue heavy, so if that isn't your thing, apologies. But it lays a lot of groundwork for future plot and relationships, so I think this is the best way.
Enjoy! I'll be updating again as soon as possible, and, as always, feel free to let me know what you think! Your opinions are always valued.
Merrin woke suddenly – as if sleep had barely been holding her under – in an unfamiliar, somewhat lumpy bed. Darkness surrounded her, black as pitch, and for several moments, she didn't know where she was...again.
Then she moved just a couple of inches, and the dull, residual ache in her shoulder reminded her.
She laid still for several seconds, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness; at some point in the night, all the sconces and candles must've been snuffed. Now that she was awake and alert, she could hear the breathing and soft snores of the other people in the room with her—the other new recruits.
As she laid there, the relative silence was suddenly pierced by the angry growling of her stomach, and she sighed.
She'd fallen asleep without any dinner, and now she was really starving. She needed to slip upstairs and find some breakfast—but without waking anyone up.
The outlines of shapes had started to take form around her, and after another minute, she felt confident enough.
She grabbed the quilt draped over her with one hand and peeled it back and away, gingerly rising to a sitting position. She couldn't see the quilt in the dark, but she knew from the night before that it was a faded green, with small white flowers embroidered along the edges.
Her other hand slipped beneath the pillow she'd slept on, fingers groping along the sheet until they grabbed what she was after—her brown cotton breeches. Freeing her legs completely from the quilt, she eased herself as quietly as possible to the side of the bed, setting down her feet so that they touched the cold flagstone. Doing her best not to make a sound, she shook out the breeches and pulled them on, slipping them up over her smallcloth and lacing them.
She knew better than to hope to find her socks; it would be impossible, in the dark. So she scooted down to the foot of the bed, and felt around with her toes for her scavenged boots—slowly, so she didn't knock one over. When she finally felt the cool brush of leather, she bit off another sigh and eased her feet into them, lacing them quickly as well. She didn't dare to bother with armor—she wouldn't need it anyway, for now. With nothing left to do, she stood, tucking her tunic into her pants.
Now came the hard part. She'd ended up choosing the bed in the far left corner of the room, and she'd have to make it to the centre to find the door. In that spanse, she had to keep from making noise, or tripping and falling onto someone in their bed. Biting her lip, she edged forward to her right.
It was nerve wracking; she'd only ever seen this room once, and it was hard to traverse what you didn't know. She walked slowly, agonizingly slowly, so she wouldn't stub a toe or bash a shin, and four different times, she bumped gently into something and had to alter her course. She had her arms spread out with her hands outstretched, so she wouldn't walk into anything, and when she was most of the way across the room, her left hand grazed someone's bent and blanketed knee. She hadn't been expecting the touch, and winced as she yanked her hand back, waiting. But the owner of the knee didn't stir.
After what felt like an eternity, she finally braced a palm against the wood of the door, and she grabbed an iron handle with eager fingers.
Outside, the hallway was a stark and blessed change; it was just as brightly lit as when she'd gotten there, and so she could see just fine. She closed the door behind her silently, and then sagged with relief against the wood.
The whole procedure must have taken her ten minutes—it had felt like much more. In the torch-lit hall, she let out a breath she hadn't noticed she was holding, and then had to force her jaw to unclench.
As she stood there sucking in a fresh lungful, she felt like laughing at herself. Who else would take something so simple so seriously? But in the end, she wouldn't have done it differently. She was newest of the new, here—today would be her first official day. Who would want to be the newcomer that tripped over a breastplate in the dark and went crashing into a sleeping bunkmate on their first day? Nobody. And especially not her. She preferred to leave accidents for when she was better known...they tended to shape you less, that way.
Her stomach broke her train of thought then, with a painful growl even louder than the first.
'Alright, alright. Jeez,' Merrin muttered. Cupping her mutinous gut with one hand, she scanned her surroundings for anything to eat. Would the kitchen be fired for the day yet? She doubted it, and then got overtaken by a huge, sudden yawn. What time was it, anyway? Without a window, she had no way of knowing.
She was about to head upstairs when a plate caught her eye. It was sitting on a side table in a small communal lounging area next to the door of the bunk—and it had a single creme treat on it.
Yes! In two bounding strides, she had the creme treat in her hand, and was eagerly taking the first huge bite. It didn't really occur to her that the dessert could belong to somebody else, and she didn't care that it was a bit stale; it was sustenance, plain and simple, and she sank into the nearest chair as she wolfed it down.
It was quiet in the hall, the only sounds belonging to her, and it soothed away the nervous tension she'd carried with her from the sleeping chamber. As she ate, the quiet gave her time to think, and she reflected on how the night before had unfolded.
When Aela had pushed open those doors and led her inside, it had only taken a second for the raucous shouting to stop, and then all eyes were on her.
The Dunmer named Athis had been laying in a bed ahead of her and to her right, back propped up against several thick pillows, body covered by a worn red quilt. The man named Torvar sat on the floor, back against a wardrobe beside the bed, elbows rested on knees, and the Imperial woman who's name she didn't know sat perched on the foot of Athis' bed.
They'd all stared at her with great interest, and it had taken her a second to realize that there was a sixth person in the room; sitting in a wooden chair against the far left wall, the Nord named Njada scowled at her as she tugged on a pair of leather boots.
'Listen up, whelps.' As always, Aela's voice came out strong, and Merrin had dropped Njada's hostile gaze to look at the red-head instead.
'Today, new blood joins our ranks. Let's have a round of introductions, to start things off.'
And so, there'd been a round of introductions. She'd announced her name for the fifth time that day, nodding politely at the group in front of her.
Torvar had been the first to greet her; he'd pulled himself to standing with a bit of difficulty (undoubtedly caused by the empty bottles at his feet) and had taken her hand as if she were a lady at court, bowing low over it before coming up with a grin. 'So very well met, ma'am. My name is Torvar. I think we'll be good friends in no time a'tall.'
He'd been pungent, but harmless, and she'd smiled good-naturedly as he leaned back against the wardrobe. 'We'll have to see. Well met.'
Athis had introduced himself next, and then grimaced. 'I'm afraid I can't make to shake your hand, though. I'll be stuck in this bed for a day or so.'
She'd witnessed the brawl he'd lost, and she'd nodded as she came forward so they could shake, giving him her practical observation.
'That's probably for the best, after the hit you took.'
Torvar had laughed at that for some reason, but Athis had only nodded grimly, dark red eyes looking her over. She'd released his hand then, and taken a step back.
Before anyone had a chance to continue, the woman named Njada had stalked across the room, and gotten right in Merrin's face—or had done her best to, being nearly a head shorter.
'Here's all you need to know about me,' the pale-haired woman had hissed. 'I'm not here to make friends. I'm not here to play nice. If you stay out of my way, things will work out fine.' She'd narrowed her eyes in a glare then; strange, tawny eyes with golden flecks. 'Give me any trouble? You'll regret it.' Then she'd stormed past the two women in the doorway, bumping hard into Merrin's shoulder as she left, and slammed the door to the upper levels behind her.
There'd been a moment of awkward silence in the room where Merrin had hissed out a harsh breath; Njada had bumped into her injured shoulder. Aela had stared at the door to the mead hall, mouth firmed with disapproval. Then the Imperial woman had spoken up, smiling apologetically.
'Um...sorry about that. That was Njada. She can be...prickly, before she gets to know you.'
'Prickly?' Torvar had interjected, and laughed. 'More like barbed. Let's just say the Stonearm doesn't have many friends.'
After a moment, her anger started to fade, and Merrin shrugged as she rubbed at her sore shoulder. 'Not everyone's interested in being friendly.'
'Well, the three of us are.' The Imperial woman had stood up then, reaching out a hand to shake. 'My name is Ria Mellius, and I'm pleased to meet you.'
The pretty brunette's hand had been warm when it squeezed hers, and she'd stared at Merrin with large dark eyes, done up in a smokey red that matched her lips perfectly. When she'd smiled, it had seemed genuine. 'If you need help with anything, don't hesitate to ask one of us.'
The offer had warmed Merrin, and she'd muttered her thanks.
After that, Aela had turned to her and thrown her another playful smile. 'I'd say that my work here is finished, for now. So if you'll excuse me, I'll leave you to settle in. I have a hunt to make preparations for. If you need anything...' She'd tossed her head at the others. 'You know who to ask.'
And then she'd swept through the wooden doors, graceful as a stalking cat.
Merrin shook off the memories of the night before, and reined herself back into the present moment.
She had polished off the creme treat while she sat there thinking, and while it would hold her over for a while, she was far from satisfied—she needed to look for something else.
She should go upstairs and check the kitchen for something. She barely knew Tilma, but she'd seemed more than kind enough. Surely, she wouldn't mind if Merrin crept in and took something small.
Mind made up, she got out of the chair and headed toward the twin set of doors, running her fingers through her hair as she went, to make it presentable—or try to, at least.
Once again, she moved quiet as a mouse, not wanting to wake anyone with the door, and she was soundless as she made her way up the stairs to the mead hall. She could already tell it was still early morning; there wasn't a sound above her, and the light filtering through the windows was pale and young, so that the hall was still shadowy.
She'd only taken a couple of steps when she saw something that made her stop in her tracks.
Not something. Someone. Standing tall and broad at the long oaken table, great sword strapped to his armored back—it was the man she'd met outside of Whiterun, with the easy laugh and the deep blue eyes.
She'd been silent in her unknowing approach, and he hadn't noticed her. He was standing with his great back to her, staring into the fire.
From where she stood, she could see that his armor was scuffed and dirty, his boots splashed with mud. His hair hung loose around his shoulders, black in the fire's silhouette, and lank as if from many days on the road. Was that why she hadn't seen him? Had he only just gotten here?
As if he could sense her presence or her questions, the big Nord suddenly turned around, and his gaze latched onto her instantly. Instinctively, her hand tightened around the stair's banister.
She could see that he looked tired; smeared warpaint couldn't hide bags under his eyes, and several day's neglect had turned the stubble he'd sported when she first saw him into the beginnings of a beard. But his eyes lit up as he recognized her, and a boyish grin broke over his face.
'Hey, it's you! The girl in the field.'
When he spoke, his voice was deep and easy, like she'd remembered, and he sounded enthusiastic. Instantly, she was glad to see him, and she let her hand fall as she smiled back at him. She answered in muted tones, still cautious of the people sleeping below her.
'Not in the field anymore.'
He chuckled appreciatively. 'So you decided to come after all?' Blue eyes swept her over as he took in her appearance, and he nodded, seeming satisfied. 'If you're here at this hour, that means Kodlak must've liked you.'
She shrugged. 'I guess so.' She had no way of knowing—his words had only just made her realize that she hadn't actually spoken to the Harbinger since she'd left his study with Vilkas.
And like ripples in a pond, that realization triggered another one; she had no idea what Vilkas had said about her, when he'd reported back to Kodlak—she wasn't even sure that he'd really given a report. Thinking of Vilkas stirred yesterday's anger, and her smile faded as she met his gaze again.
'I haven't had the chance to speak with him again. But they gave me a bed to sleep in, and I'm already being ordered around.' She crinkled her nose as she said the words. 'So I guess that means I'm in.'
A look of comprehension dawned on his face as he took in her sour expression, and he chuckled again, irking her some more.
'Ordered around? Sounds like you've already met Vilkas, then.' He leaned a hip against the table, eyes shining with amusement as he looked at her.
'Unfortunately.' She knew it was rude, but it was too early to care. 'He was the one who tested my arm.' She crossed her arms in front of her chest. 'He looks a lot like you.'
'He should.' Another grin. 'Being my twin, and all.'
Oh, shit. Instantly, she wanted to hit herself, and she had to bite back a curse; how could she have been so stupid? How could she miss something so obvious? Her anger swelled at her own stupidity, and she scowled. She'd already put her foot in her mouth, but embarrassment had words cramming up in her throat. Before she could rein herself in, they spilled from her.
'Are you serious? You're related to Vilkas? Twins? How is that possible?' She snorted, eyes narrowed at him. 'You seem like a reasonable person. He's been nothing but—'
'An ass.' He finished the thought for her smoothly; when she pulled her head back in surprise, he was still smiling.
'Yeah,' he said calmly. 'That's my brother.'
She was wary now as she eyed him; embarrassed at her foolish blunder, but not about to apologize, either. She tipped her chin up obstinately. 'Then maybe appearances can be deceiving. You're his twin. How do I know you're not an ass, too?'
She didn't know what kind of answer to expect, but he just shrugged, good-naturedly, flashing his smile at her again.
'Sometimes I can be. But not for the most part. Mostly, I guess I'm what you'd call the 'good twin'.'
He seemed genuine—not trying to boast, or preen. So after a moment, she relented. Then huffed. 'No doubts about what that makes Vilkas.'
The big man in front of her didn't seem to take the slightest offense at her attitude towards his flesh and blood; on the contrary, he laughed, and his blue eyes flickered appreciatively.
'Vilkas...is a good man. I swear,' he insisted over another snort from her. 'He just takes longer to come around to new people. Always has. He's quick to anger and slow to trust. But, if you show yourself to be honorable, he'll warm to you eventually. I'm sure of it.'
His face was eager when he spoke, his blue eyes genuine, and there was a simple and obvious love for his brother in his words. She took in the sight of him for one long moment, and then she softened; some of her prickly resentment faded.
She knew how it was, to be quick to anger.
'We'll see,' she said slowly, letting her arms uncross and fall back to her sides. 'He made it obvious that he didn't think I could make it among you. I'm surprised he agreed to even test my arm.'
He nodded though, seeming completely unsurprised. 'We all respect Kodlak a lot. Pretty much anything he asks of us, we do.' He was silent for a second, and then a thought obviously occurred to him; a line appeared between his thick brows, and he looked her over anew.
'But if Vilkas tested your arm, I know for sure that you're tired and sore today. What has you up so early?'
She grimaced. 'I'm sore,' she conceded. 'But not tired. And I'm up because my traitor of a stomach forced me up. I feel like I could eat a horker.'
He chuckled in response, and she narrowed her eyes at him. 'I could ask you the same question, you know. Why are you up so early?'
'Because I just got here,' he replied simply. He gestured carelessly to the seat beside him, and she saw a huge knapsack dumped there, with a used-looking bedroll tied to the bottom. When she looked back at him, he was drinking deeply from an earthenware mug she hadn't noticed in his hand.
'You've been on the road?' The explanation settled her, for some reason.
That must be why he wasn't around when I got here.
'Yep,' he responded, popping the 'p' and nodding once. 'Had a job in Rorikstead that needed doing. Bandits.' He flashed her a fierce smile then, one that reminded her of Aela.
'They won't be banditing anymore. Finished the job, and came straight home—didn't bother setting up camp. I got here about a quarter hour ago.'
She was opening her mouth to reply, when her stomach growled again—long and insistent, the sound travelling through the room.
She wasn't embarrassed, but she was annoyed, and this time she let a curse slip out as she brought a hand to her flat, empty stomach.
'Oh, ah...I can help you with that.'
Merrin looked back up at the man in front of her. He wasn't looking at her now; instead, he was rummaging through the rucksack he'd set aside. But he beckoned to her with his other hand.
Hesitantly, she took a step forward. 'You don't need to do that. I was going to look for something in the kitchen. I don't want to inconvenience.'
'You're not,' he replied easily. 'Least not yet.' He spared her a glance from his rummaging, and his eyes were dancing. 'But if you go in that kitchen, I can't protect you. Tilma's as sweet as spun sugar—as long as you don't mess with her larder. Go in without her say so, and all bets are off.'
He'd spoken plainly this whole time, and she had no reason to believe he was exaggerating now. She put a hand on her hip and lifted a brow.
Huh. 'That a fact? Thanks for the warning, then, I guess.'
'Much safer to just accept my gracious hospitality.' He straightened up then with a linen bundle in his hand, and a hokey grin on his face.
At the sight of that grin, her feelings warmed—her initial liking for him grew. She took another step closer, and hit him with a smile of her own.
'Well then, let's see what you've got.'
He unwrapped the linen to reveal half a loaf of brown bread, a red and yellow apple, and several strips of some sort of dried meat.
There were still several strides between them, but at the sight of the food, her stomach urged her forward. She shot him quick thanks, and reached for one of the strips of meat.
'Hold on, hold on. Wait a second.' She'd been about to grab a strip when one of his large hands closed loosely around her wrist.
Normally she would tense, even jerk away; he seemed genuinely kind, and she was definitely starting to like him, but the man was still a virtual stranger.
But she didn't do either of those things. His grip was warm, and so was his voice. When she looked up to stare at him questioningly, there was no hint of a threat in his features. He was looking at her with interest, his eyes still twinkling with mirth.
'I think we're forgetting something,' he told her.
She only stared at him, confused.
'Names!' He chuckled. 'Any woman going to eat the last of my favorite jerky, I'd like to know her name first.'
It was so unexpected, she laughed; a loose, whooping laugh from her gut, that made her shoulders shake. He seemed delighted by this laughter, and joined with some of his own; she was surprised when the sound made her heart jump in her chest.
It was easy to laugh with him, even not knowing him, and it took her a few moments to settle down. When she looked back up at him with her head cocked to the side, she was still smiling. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she wondered at it. How different, her reaction to this twin!
'It's Merrin. My name is Merrin.'
'Merrin.' He tried the name out for himself, and his gaze went somewhat soft and considering as he looked at her, like he was really thinking about it.
'I like that,' he announced after moments of staring. 'It suits you. Merrin.'
His voice was almost tender when he said her name, and her stomach gave a little jump.
'Oh, yeah? Is that so?'
He nodded, eyes still searching hers. 'Yep. It's a pretty name. Down to earth. Makes me think of a deep green forest.'
The words jolted her a bit; they were similar to something she'd heard all her life, and an image of home came flashing unbidden to the front of her mind. An image of tall, green trees. Her stomach lurched again, stronger this time.
'It's good to meet you, Merrin. My name is Farkas.' His hand slid then from her wrist to link with hers, and they exchanged a firm handshake.
When had they gotten so close? The distance that had separated them to start was gone, and now so was the distance that usually separated strangers; she could smell him, both the various smells of travel clinging to his clothes and armor, and the actual musk of the man beneath. She could feel the heat of his body. All her life, she had been tall, but the man in front of her was so abnormally large that he was still nearly a head above her, and she had to crane her neck to look up at him.
The fire was still the main source of light in the room, and the orange light flickered playfully over the planes and valleys of his face, turning his blue eyes a curious color. She couldn't ignore what a good face it was.
His eyes had left hers, and now they were resting on other parts of her; her cheek, her mouth, her nose. Suddenly, he smiled again.
'You have freckles.' He sounded delighted. 'Here..' he lifted his other hand, and traced a finger delicately over her skin, across the bridge of her nose, along the ridge of her cheekbones, seeming fascinated. 'And here. I never noticed, out in the field.' The smile widened into a grin. 'They're cute.'
She wasn't breathing anymore; the breath had caught in her throat. Her pulse had started to hammer. He had surprised her into freezing—now all she could feel were his fingers, and his gaze.
For a moment, she hung that way, suspended.
Then she shook herself mentally, blinking once, twice. What are you doing? She asked herself. What is this? She didn't normally react this way to being touched—and definitely not by strangers. It was time to gain some distance.
She decided to try for humor, and smirked, taking one tiny step away before she spoke.
'Farkas? Hmm. That's a pretty name, too. Makes me think of...really big guys with extra strips of jerky.'
He startled at her words, and then laughed. The loud sound in the quiet room seemed to break the spell; both of them took a step away, and their hands that had still been clasped together came falling easily apart. He braced his on the table instead, and when he looked back up at her, his face was torn. He looked both amused, and bashful. Two spots of color rode high on his prominent cheekbones, just like the ones she'd seen on his brother. But the similarities ended there.
'Oh,' he groaned, on a tapering laugh. 'Oh, you're funny. I like that.' He reached a hand around to cup the back of his neck, and lowered his gaze. 'Sorry for poking at your face like that.'
The strange tension between them had broken, and it relieved her; she bulled determinedly through the remaining wisps of it, and smiled broadly. 'No harm, no foul.' She pointed at the table. 'As long as I get the jerky now.'
Things moved along more easily after that. Farkas pulled a chair out for her to sit on, and pushed the food in front of her when she sat, and they talked of lighter things; it was as if nothing strange had happened between them at all.
'I'd offer to fix you up some raana, but this was the last of what I had.' He gestured towards his half-empty mug, and sounded apologetic.
Merrin stared longingly at the cup of dark liquid. Raana was grown and shipped from Hammerfell; part tea-leaf, part ground bean, and now popular across most of Tamriel. If brewed in hot water, it made a stimulating drink with a strong aroma, and was good for a boost if a person was tired.
She'd developed a taste for it in Morrowind; she didn't add milk, like some people did, but she liked it with plenty of sugar. And a cup right then would be more than welcome.
But she only smiled and shook her head, and told him not to worry about it.
The jerky turned out to be good, and as she worked on a big piece, he asked her questions.
Merrin found him as easy to talk to as his brother was difficult; he smiled often and laughed easily. She could see he was tired—he yawned hugely more than once—but he obviously wanted to be sitting there. It was plain when she talked that he was really listening.
When she told him about Eorlund's offer, he nodded at her, looking pleased.
'That's good. If you have the skill, Eorlund will teach you some valuable stuff. I still remember everything he taught me.'
'You're...a smith, too?' She looked at him with undisguised interest. He had a powerful body, and when she gave it a thought, the idea didn't surprise her.
Farkas chuckled. 'Now and then, in my spare time. I like the craft, but Eorlund doesn't have much patience with me. Maybe you'll fare better.'
She could only shrug. 'I hope so.'
As if he sensed her reticence, he changed the subject, expression turning sage. 'So, you stayed the night. That means you must've met most everyone. How'd you get along with the other whelps?'
Instantly, she drew up short, and looked at him narrowly. 'Not you, too,' she muttered, accusatory.
He looked at her, confused. 'Not me too what?'
'Whelps', she grumbled. 'So pointlessly rude. Why do you need to call us that?'
He tilted his head to stare at her strangely, and she thought she saw something like admiration flash in his eyes. After a long moment, a slow smile broke over his face, and he nodded. 'Alright then...newblood. How'd you get along with the others?'
She thought out her reply carefully. 'Torvar, Athis, and Ria were friendly. Njada...not so much.'
He snorted, and stole back a bit of jerky. 'You shouldn't take that one too personal. If you're not a member of the Circle, Njada doesn't have much use for you.'
Merrin stared at him. 'What do you mean, the Circle?' He reached for more jerky, and she swatted his hand away. 'What happened to your gracious hospitality, huh? Let a woman eat.'
He laughed at her, eyes dancing appreciatively once again. 'A spitfire! I'm so sorry, ma'am. Won't happen again.' Then he tore off a hunk of bread instead, ignoring her huff, chewing thoughtfully before he answered.
'She's looking to climb. The Circle's made up of our strongest members. If you wanna be a Circle member, you've gotta be tough.' For a second he looked like he had more to say, but then he just shook his head, and took more bread.
'Huh.' She sat there quietly, absorbing the new information, watching the first golden rays of real dawn as they crept across the floor. Her father had told her countless stories of the Companions, but he'd never once mentioned an inner circle.
Suddenly she was snapped back by a suspicious thought, and she looked over at the man beside her—more specifically, at his armor.
It was exactly as she'd expected; the breastplate was smeared with mud, but there was no mistaking that sculpted wolf.
'Wait a minute.' He looked over at the tone of her voice, mouth full of bread, and looked guilty despite not knowing if he'd done anything. It almost pulled a smile from her. Almost.
'That armor. I've been seeing it around. Does it mean something special? That...you're part of the Circle?'
He swallowed in a way that looked painful, but the guilty look had been replaced with a grin.
'Oh, this? Yeah, that's exactly what it means. Funny, and smart.' He looked the armor over proudly. 'You like it?'
'It's nice,' she admitted grudgingly. But that would mean...
'So you, Skjor, Kodlak...your brother. You're all members of this Circle?'
'You're forgetting Aela.' He took a swig of cold raana to wash down his bread. 'She's a member of the Circle, too. Just doesn't wear the armor.'
It was true; every time she'd seen Aela, she'd been wearing a set of old Nordic armor—as if she'd taken it right off a Draugr. But that hadn't been her point, and she hissed in frustration.
'So your idiot brother can order me around.' She ground her teeth together, fists clenched. 'Just perfect.' The anger had welled up almost instantly, and this time she didn't care what Farkas thought of her bad-mouthing his brother.
'Hey, hey.' His deep voice was soothing, pacifying, and he lifted his hands up in her direction. 'Easy. Vilkas is a lot of things, but he isn't an idiot.'
She started to cut across him with angry protests, but he continued over her in a mellow sort of way.
'And one day, when you've made a bit of a name for yourself around here, Vilkas might give you contracts, yeah. But he can't just boss you around. Nobody bosses anybody, in Jorrvaskr.'
She sat there for several tense moments, just breathing, hands clenched in front of her; the thought of Vilkas running her was like fire in her veins—intolerable.
But she was collected enough to realize that what Farkas had said mirrored Kodlak's earlier words: Vilkas might try, but he had no grounds to succeed. Amongst the Companions, she would be her own woman, Circle or no Circle. She latched onto that thought, solitary and comforting, and let it cool her down.
Farkas had sat wordlessly, watching her seethe, with a mild expression on his face. When she turned her face back toward his, he raised his eyebrows.
'You've got a temper on you.' It was said conversationally, as if he were commenting on the weather.
She grimaced at his observation, and let out a gusting breath. 'Always have. Can't see a day where I ever won't. And,' she added dryly, 'I can't see a day where I'll take a job from your brother.'
'It reminds me of someone else.'
She looked back at him sharply, feeling defensive, but his expression was as clear as water—no inflection to be found. She was tired of being angry, and after another second she slumped in her seat and started picking at the bread, willing herself to relax.
After a few seconds of silence, Farkas cleared his throat, and she was surprised to suddenly feel his elbow nudging her in the ribs. She looked up at him again, an irritated warning half-formulated; then she saw that he was smiling again, as if she hadn't just snapped and snarled, and the words died on her lips.
'It looks to me like you could use a distraction,' he said, cajoling. 'Something to get your mind off of...things.'
'Yeah?' She asked warily. 'What do you have in mind?'
'Well...you're going to be living in Whiterun now, right?'
Hearing him say it made it feel surreal, and she was slow to respond. 'It looks that way.'
'Do you know your way around the city? You said you haven't seen much of it.'
That was the truth. 'No, I don't.'
Farkas' face brightened, and he leaned in towards her to bump her again. 'Then how 'bout I give you the grand tour? Show you around the city? It'll help you get settled in quicker.'
Merrin looked at him, surprised again, and a smile tugged at the corners of her broad mouth. It was a sweet offer, and it had warmth blooming in her chest; he must've been exhausted from his trek back home, but he was plainly eager at the idea of showing her around—she could see it on his face.
She'd opened her mouth, and it was on the tip of her tongue to say yes, when she suddenly remembered.
'Oh.' Her brows drew together. 'I'm sorry, Farkas. That's a sweet offer, really, and I'm grateful. But Ria offered the same last night, and I already said yes.'
The Imperial woman hadn't left her side after Aela had introduced them—she'd seemed determined to make Merrin feel welcome, and truthfully, she had. Before she'd left her to get some sleep, Ria had offered to spend the day showing her the city.
Merrin had been glad to accept, then; now she felt oddly disappointed.
For a second, she saw mirrored disappointment in his eyes, and it made her stomach lurch again. But then he smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners, and shook his head good-naturedly.
'Too bad, then. But I guess it's for the best—this way I can catch some shut-eye.'
She looked him over, and nodded practically, shaking off the unwanted jumpiness. 'You do look tired.'
He laughed. 'Thanks. At any rate, if it's Ria showing you around, you won't be waiting much longer. She's an early bird.'
He pushed away from where he'd been leaning beside her against the table, stretched his neck until it popped, and gave both shoulders a roll. Then he picked up his mug and downed the rest of his raana, before he looked down at her.
'Hey, before I go...I know you're just getting settled and all, but would you be interested in some work? I've got a job I think you could do.'
She lifted a brow, tilted her chin. 'That depends. Does it include running around, doing your personal errands?'
Something in her eyes must've tipped him off, because he laughed again, heartily, before he shook his head.
'No...no, nothing like that. I mostly leave the over-lording to my brother.' He pursed his full lips, and shrugged. 'I mean, it still isn't glamorous. But you'd get paid.'
She sat there, considering. Her first real job...and not a menial errand. Including money.
'I'm listening.'
'Thought so.' He grinned. 'I got the letter for the job a few days ago, but the bandits in Rorikstead needed dealing with. Someone needs some muscle right here in Whiterun.'
Merrin frowned. 'Oh? What for?'
'Apparently, a guy in town's been running his mouth off, throwing his weight around. Being a bully. Folks are tired of it, and someone complained who's willing to pay.' He shrugged again.
'So...' she said slowly, looking confused. 'You want me to go knock some sense into him? Is that it?'
He nodded. 'If it comes to that. But I know the guy—it probably won't. Mostly, I'd just need you to go down there and look tough. Scare the milk-drinker into submission.'
She snorted. 'I can definitely handle that.'
'Attagirl.'
Suddenly, his grin faded, and was replaced with a serious expression. 'But, listen. If it goes so far as throwing some punches, make sure it only goes that far. No further. I don't wanna hear about a killing down there.' He towered above her, watching her carefully. 'Got it?'
She stared back at him, just as serious. 'Do the Companions kill loudmouths often?'
He shook his head. 'Not at all. That would be terrible for business—not to mention really dishonorable.'
She'd already figured as much, and shot him a wry smile. 'Well, don't worry. You have my word. Only scaring or hitting. Nothing more.'
'Alright then.' His smile was already blooming again, all the sternness gone.
'So who is he?'
'His name's Elrindir. Bosmer barkeep at the Drunken Huntsman. He's the self-important type, probably just needs to be deflated some.'
She nodded. 'He's as good as deflated.'
'Let me know when it's done, and you'll get paid.'
A huge yawn chased the end of his sentence, and he rubbed one eye with a giant fist, further smearing the sooty kohl there.
'You should really go to bed, Farkas,' she pointed out. Half amused, and half disappointed.
'Yeah, I really should. I'm going.' Effortlessly, he reached down and hiked up his heavy pack, and slung it carelessly over one shoulder. 'Make sure you don't let that jerky go to waste.'
She patted her stomach, and smirked. 'I've got plans for it.'
Then she dropped the smirk, and eyed him seriously. 'Thanks for the breakfast. And the conversation.'
'You don't need to thank me.' His gaze was suddenly arresting, and she could see the sincerity sitting there. 'I really enjoyed meeting you. Merrin.'
Again, there it was—when he said her name, he almost sounded shy. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth.
For a second, they just stared at each other. Then the moment passed, and he spoke again.
'Ria shouldn't be long now. Try to enjoy yourself! This city's more than half-decent, if you can get over Heimskr.' He snorted a laugh at his own joke, and then he was walking the way she'd come, down to the living quarters.
All alone, Merrin found the empty mead hall peaceful. The sun was now rising in earnest outside, and the city was stirring awake to greet it.
The golden rays of what looked to be another fine summer day were streaming through the windows, lighting up the hall inside, and if she trained her ears, she could hear the sounds of other life—raised voices, children's laughter, the lowing of a cow.
As she crunched into the ambrosia apple, she looked again around the room. Since it was empty, and not housing a brawl, she could actually take in the details.
She liked what she saw. The red banners hanging from the lofty rafters were also embroidered with golden thread, well taken-care of, dancing in a gentle draft that made a sea of dust motes swirl through sun beams. Impressive weapons were mounted to pillars, displayed in positions of pride around the centre of the long room; a glass warhammer, an ebony great sword, a wooden bow so intricately carved and finely polished that it glowed in the firelight. Shields much bigger than the ones downstairs were hanging from intervals in a ring around the room, about ten feet up the walls, and each one was resting over two mounted spears that still looked sharp.
Everything around her looked worn, well-used, and comfortable. Furniture was past its prime, but still serviceable. And when she looked down at the floor, she noted that whatever parts weren't sturdy grey flagstone was wood that had been cared for well, with a certain lustre still clinging to the boards—except for under the chairs around the table. There, the floor was worn down, some of the wood's color stripped away—changed and moulded by hundreds of years of booted feet.
Jorrvaskr seemed to emanate both history and pride—infuse it into the very air—and she found herself sighing contentedly. The starry eyed child inside of her was finally sitting in the very hall of her dreams...it hardly seemed real.
She'd only been alone five minutes when she heard the double doors opening again, and Farkas was proven true to his word.
Ria came up the stairs and walking toward her, looking fresh and rested in simple plainclothes. Her long brown hair tumbled loose in a cascade around her, and she didn't have any warpaint on; with her thin face bare, she looked several years younger.
She smiled at Merrin as she approached, and Merrin found herself smiling back.
'Good morning!' The Imperial sounded cheerful. 'You're up early. It's usually just me and Tilma, this time of day.'
'No reason for me not to be. We all know I got enough sleep last night.'
It was nothing but the truth. After Aela had left the dormitory, it was Ria who'd put her hands on her hips and gotten down to business. With a cheerful efficiency, she had pointed Merrin towards a dresser for her to put her things into; when she'd hesitated, the woman had laughed, and reassured her that Jorrvaskr wasn't home to thieves—other than Torvar filching unguarded mead.
She'd had precious little to unpack, but the Imperial hadn't asked any questions; she'd seemed to sense that Merrin wasn't open to them. Instead, she'd offered easy conversation about life in the mead hall—how she'd settle in quick enough, as long as she didn't mind boisterous surroundings.
Torvar had eventually ambled out of the room with one last passing greeting, and Athis had ended up yanking his quilt over his head and going to sleep, but Ria had stayed by her side.
She'd even helped her pick a bed; when she'd asked if she could pick just any place to sleep, Ria had sagely shaken her head.
'I wouldn't touch that one, if I were you.' She'd pointed to a bed in the corner, with blue quilting. 'It's Njada's. She'll go berserk if you touch it, or her stuff.'
And so she'd ended up with the bed across from it, sinking gratefully onto the mattress. It hadn't been long before she'd admitted she needed rest, and it was then that Ria had offered to show her around the next day.
She'd skipped dinner, too tired to wait for it, and slept for about eighteen hours.
Now, in front of her, Ria laughed. 'That's fair. But no matter. It just means you'll be better at memorizing as we go. Are you ready?'
She looked down at the remainder of Merrin's breakfast on the table, and hummed thoughtfully.
'You're not going to want to have that food out when Tilma comes up. She might think you went and took it from the pantry!'
She took in the expression on Ria's face, and thought of the sweet, tiny lady she'd met the day before.
Appearances can be deceiving. Yeesh.
With a quick hand, she swiped up the linen, wrapping up the food as she stood. 'I'm ready.'
The sun came down to warm the two women as they headed down the steps and away from Jorrvaskr, and a gentle breeze played through their hair. When they reached the walkway, Ria pulled up short, and put slender hands on narrow hips as she sighed with satisfaction.
'It's a beautiful city,' she said to Merrin, 'with good people in it, and plenty to do. I've found that no matter where a person comes from, Whiterun ends up growing on them.'
'How long have you been here, then?'
'A little less than six months,' Ria answered, a bit ruefully. 'But in that time, it's become my home. And the Companions have become my family.' The smile she gave was heartfelt and warm, and it gave Merrin a pang to stare at it.
'So, where should we go first, then?'
The Imperial's face brightened. 'Oh, if I'm giving you the tour, we've got to start at the Skyforge. It's famous across Skyrim, across Tamriel, and it's right in our backyard—our mysterious claim to fame.' At this last, she wiggled her dark brows dramatically and grinned.
'Ah...' Merrin cleared her throat, feeling guilty. 'Actually, I already saw it, yesterday. And talked to Eorlund. You know...errands,' she finished, somewhat lamely.
Ria pursed her lips, but only for a second, and then she was readjusting her plan. 'Alright, then. In that case, why don't we just start from the top and work our way down? That way, we don't miss anything. If you already know about a place, then just tell me and we can skip over it.'
'That sounds good to me.'
And so they set off, with Ria one step ahead to lead the way. When they reached the bottom of the stone steps, the first thing she did was point up to Dragonsreach, in the Cloud District.
'No no, that's alright,' Merrin cut in before the other woman could start. 'I've already seen Dragonsreach, and met Balgruuf. I've had enough of both for the foreseeable future.'
Ria smiled in a knowing sort of way. 'Not a fan of the courts?'
Merrin snorted. 'To put it mildly.'
'That's alright. They can be pretty—'
'You two, standing over there! Tell me—are you true daughters of Skyrim? Will you come and listen to the words of the mighty Talos?!'
It was the priest of Talos who had suddenly addressed them, yelling across the circular stone courtyard; they'd been talking all along over his shouted sermon, minding their own business. But now he'd lowered the hood of his terracotta robes, and was stretching out a beseeching hand as he stared the two of them down directly.
For a moment, Merrin didn't move. Then she turned to her companion, and raised an eyebrow.
'I've been wondering since I came to the city...what's the deal with the priest?'
Ria chuckled at her. 'That's just Heimskr. He takes his sermons seriously, for sure. But he's harmless.'
When they hadn't immediately answered his call, the priest had gone back to his preaching; he squinted directly into the rising sun, and had both arms flung out in supplication. Behind him stood a carved statue of Talos himself; massive and stoic in his winged helmet, stony face impassive as he stared down at the courtyard and rested huge hands on the pommel of his sword.
As far as Merrin could see, only two people were actually paying Heimskr any mind; a shrivelled old woman with a tightly tied bonnet, and a Redguard man in tattered rags. Everyone else in the Wind District was either artfully ignoring him, or rushing by.
'But isn't what he's doing illegal?' She asked, doubtfully. 'The Empire signed the Concordat a long time ago. Worship of Talos is strictly banned—and this man is singing his praises in the streets.'
Ria shrugged. 'Entirely illegal. You're right.'
Merrin stared at the woman, exasperated. 'Isn't he in danger, then? Why has no one stopped him?' She turned to look at the priest again; he'd fallen to his knees on the stone of the courtyard, and his face upturned to the morning sun was gleaming with sweat as he continued his impassioned wailing.
'Because...' Ria's voice had softened, and so had her face. 'The Dominion can outlaw worship, but they can't really control what people believe. And Balgruuf knows that. He remains impartial in the civil war, and well...we don't have a strong Thalmor presence here.' She shrugged again, eyeing Heimskr with obvious sympathy. 'Most people just ignore him. I'd say, so long as he isn't hurting anybody, there's no point in taking it away from him. He cares about it too much.'
There was something about Ria's words that comforted her. She'd lived a long time in Morrowind—a place native to another race, and firmly in cooperation with the Empire. Back in Morrowind, there'd been no civil war, even on the frontier. Nobody worshipped Talos, as far as she knew, and nobody was bothered by the loss. Truth be told, she hadn't been particularly bothered, either; Talos held no special place in her heart, even being a Nord.
But he'd been special to her father; until he'd died, there'd been a tiny shrine to Talos in his bedroom, the below-ground level of their home. He'd kept it hidden in his armoire...but countless times, she'd crept down the stairs to see him, and would find him kneeling in prayer at the shrine, a single candle lit.
Her father's love for Talos had been a secret they kept—like others in their village, and countless others in their province. And it had always bothered her, on some level, that her father couldn't pray under the open sun, unafraid. It soothed her to see even one man in this city, being openly devoted to his god. Even if his yelling did make her flinch sometimes.
Ria put a hand on her arm then, jerking her from her thoughts, and tipped her head to their right.
'Come on. I'll walk you around, show you what's what and who's who.'
Merrin nodded, and as they started across the courtyard, Heimskr's sonorous voice followed them for as long as it could.
'But you were once man! Aye! And as man, you said, "Let me show you the power of Talos Stormcrown—born of the North—for my breath is long winter!"'
Thanks to Ria's help, she discovered that the Wind District was home to most of the more affluent families in Whiterun; as they strolled down paths of cobblestone worn smooth, she would point a long finger at a big, stately house with carved lintels over its double doors, with a roof made of cedar shakes baking in the sun, and tell her about who lived there.
'This isn't actually a house. It's our Hall of the Dead. You probably won't be seeing much of it,' Ria said with a wink. 'The priest of Arkay who lives there is nice enough, but personally, the place gives me the creeps. And over here,' she pointed, across the way, 'is the home of Clan Battle-Born.'
'The entire Clan?' It was a big house, impressively built, sitting on a small hill so it was higher than most others, with a circular stone patio that had its own central fire pit. Even now, it was lit, and the heat of the flames shimmered in the warm summer air.
Ria snorted. 'No. Family is too big for that. But it's pretty extensive—about eight people in all, under that roof. Olfrid is the patriarch, and then you've got his wife, their children and those wives, and a grandson. Sweet kid, named Lars.' She turned to Merrin, and rolled dark brown eyes.
'As far as things go, they're a pretty important family around here. Big money, big lineage, big influence. But between you and me, they're sort of uppity, too. And Olfrid has proven himself to be a real blowhard.'
Merrin looked back at the house, and grimaced. 'I'll try to keep that in mind.'
And it kept up that way; Ria pointing, Merrin listening, learning things that she could only learn from a local.
'This place gets rented by a couple of Redguards named Amren and Saffir—nice people. But their daughter reminds me of Njada sometimes.'
'This house belongs to a woman named Uthgerd, but you'll hardly find her here. She likes it at the Bannered Mare. Careful, though, she's a real hothead. Calls herself The Unbreakable.'
'That house on the end down there gets rented out by an Imperial woman, name of Carlotta Valentia. She runs the produce stand down in the market. I try to buy from her as often as I can...she has a hard go of it, mostly. She's on her own, and is taking care of a daughter. Mila is such a sweet little thing...'
They came around to another big house, and Ria stopped in front of it, smiling. 'Now this,' she gestured grandly, 'is the home of our Eorlund Gray-Mane and his kin. Wife Fralia, two sons, and a daughter. No grandchildren yet.' For a second, her expression darkened, but then she shook her head. 'They're good people, and I'm glad to know them. Stubborn as mules, though.'
Out of all the houses they'd passed so far, House Gray-Mane was Merrin's favorite; it had clearly been built a long time ago, and it stood in the sunshine with a sort of shabby elegance that time had done little to erase. Two wooden pillars flanking the silvered oaken doors had been carved into griffins in the old Nordic style, with ruffled plumage and long, carved beaks, claws lashing out at any visitors approaching. The eaves of the roof had fanciful gables, and the walls of the entire house had been washed in a pale grey paint—so that the house lived up to its name.
The house had a gated back yard, and inside was the source of the lowing she'd heard. A single shaggy brown heifer stared at her over the wooden fence with large, gentle eyes, munching cud and absently swatting at flies with her tail. She wasn't the yard's only occupant; a creamy-colored goat with a bell around its neck made discordant jingling noises as it searched for the perfect tuft of grass, and a plucky looking mule stood farther away still, dapple coat gleaming in the light of the sun, long ears standing at attention as he looked at her intelligently.
A small stable was sitting up against the back wall of the house, just one stall for each of the three animals, and her nose caught the sweet scent of hay baking in the sun. Crates of feed and sacks of grain sat leaning against the wooden walls, and as she stared, a fluffy white chicken came strutting from a stall, ruffling its feathers as it pecked at the ground.
The animals delighted her even more than the house, and she turned to look at Ria with sparkling eyes.
'They have livestock! How is it they're allowed to keep them in the city?' In all her travel, the sight was still rare; by and large, if a family had animals, they kept them on a farm. Cautiously, she reached a hand out to the heifer, and when she didn't protest, she started gently rubbing the space between her eyes.
Ria smiled at her enthusiasm. 'Normally, it wouldn't be allowed. But a couple shops in the Plains District buy the milk from Odeth and Freya—the cow and the goat.' She laughed. 'And the Gray-Manes are the oldest family in Whiterun—they were the first to settle permanently, after the Companions. So they tend to get away with things, being a pillar of the community.'
All of a sudden, she looked disgruntled, and her smile disappeared. 'That's not to say they don't put up with anything. The Battle-Borns give them a hard time in particular. "Nothing but meddlesome, smelly beasts", to hear Olfrid Battle-Born tell it.' She wrinkled her nose. 'And that's nothing compared to what he says about the people.'
Merrin found herself already taking sides; irritated, she looked away from Odeth, and back to her guide.
'Why would they be so openly disrespectful, of another important House? Do the two not get along?' Suddenly, she remembered the morning she'd first walked into the city, and passing by a burly blond man who'd had an obvious problem with Eorlund.
Ria raised her shoulders in a helpless shrug, and sighed, looking upset.
'It's sad, really. From what I was told, the Gray-Manes and Battle-Borns used to be the best of friends.'
That news surprised her. 'And what happened?'
Ria replied simply. 'The war happened. When Ulfric started his rebellion, the two families took different sides. The Battle-Borns are loyal to the Empire; the Gray-Manes think Ulfric has the right idea. They can barely stand the sight of each other ever since.'
'That is sad.' But it was nothing new; since she'd been a child, she'd seen the alienating effects of the war nearly anywhere she went.
Ria nodded, but then gave her a small, optimistic smile. 'There's never any harm in hoping it'll change, though.'
From House Gray-Mane, they continued on, circling back to the courtyard they'd started in, and Ria filled her in about the things they'd passed over; a Temple to Kynareth, with its own bridge across the man-made stream, where the sick went to be healed, and where most women in the city chose to birth their children. Across the way, she pointed out a humble home, hardly more than a shack, where Heimskr apparently lived when he wasn't giving passionate sermon.
Lastly, she nodded up at the massive tree in the centre of the courtyard.
'And this is the Gildergreen.' She gave a weak chuckle. 'Sight to see, huh?'
Merrin was confused; the tree in front of them was hardly green. It speared up a good thirty feet into the air, twisting and regal, starkly beautiful against the hard blue sky. But it was completely dead—leafless, and as white as bones bleached by the sun.
'Um...it isn't green.'
'Yeah.' Ria seemed chagrined, as if the misnomer was her personal doing. 'Apparently, it used to be green, and people came from all over Skyrim to see it. But a year or so ago, it died. I'm not sure what happened, exactly. People still come from far away to see it—but it's kind of embarrassing now, if you care about that sort of thing.'
With the Wind District covered, they set their sights on the Plain District next; as they strolled easily side by side and Ria gave greetings to people passing by, Merrin found herself staring at her.
She liked the girl, already; she had no obligation to be doing Merrin this favor, and yet she was obviously happy to be there. She exuded a cheerful, friendly sort of energy, and seemed happy just to be walking along. She lifted her face to the sun often, sighing happily, and had a kind word and a ready smile for anyone who spoke to her.
Despite being an Imperial, she was pretty tall—only a few inches shorter than Merrin, and they were a similar size. But where Merrin was statuesque, Ria was willowy; a long, graceful neck and limbs gave her a lanky appearance she wore well. Everything about her was tapered and fine-boned, from her slender fingers, to her straight nose with its narrow bridge that crinkled when she laughed. She had a jaunty step, and ears that stuck out a bit farther than usual, so they held her hair away from her face when she tucked it back. Something about it was endearing to Merrin.
If first impressions meant anything, it was going to be easy to be friends with this girl.
And if the Wind District was somewhat elegant and stately, the Plains District was colorful, shabby, and full of life; as they entered the merchant's circle, there was no shortage of things to point out.
A red-headed Nord in a simple blue dress said hello to Ria as she passed, walking up the stairs they'd come from and toting an enormous basket of wildflowers, and Ria jerked a thumb back after she'd left.
'That woman was named Ysolda. She's an aspiring merchant. Friendly type, and smart, too. She does business with the Khajit when they come to the walls. And she says she wants to buy the Bannered Mare from Hulda one day.' Then a laugh. 'She'll have a hell of a time talking Hulda into it, though.'
It was harder to concentrate here; as the morning had worn on, the city had opened up into full swing. The tantalizing smells of various foods cooking were mingling on the breeze, and the hooting laughter of two children weaving through the throng and chasing each other was competing with the shouts of peddlers, advertising their goods. But Merrin did her best.
'You'll want to know about the different market stalls,' Ria encouraged her. 'Let me show you what we have.'
She pointed to a woman with copper-colored hair first. 'That's Carlotta Valentia. Remember what I said about her? She sells all sorts of produce at her stand. Fruits and vegetables, bread sometimes. Milk and butter, too.'
'I remember her. I bought some food from her and her daughter the other day.'
But Carlotta wasn't looking happy right then, though. She was talking to a Redguard in garnet-red robes that were clearly expensive, and looking agitated as she waved her hands around, talking quickly.
'Who is that she's talking to?'
Ria gave her a look that spoke volumes. 'That guy? His name is Nazeem. He owns Snowsand farm, a ways outside the city, and he thinks he's a really big deal.' She snorted. 'If I were you, I'd just avoid him as much as possible—lessens the chance of having to hear him speak.'
That was the opposite of an endorsement coming from her very friendly guide, so Merrin just nodded her head and took the advice.
They took a few steps to the left, and a Bosmer man who was clearly a butcher stopped shouting about his 'fresh cuts, straight from the wilds', and called out to Ria instead. He was about their age, and good-looking, too, with a charming smile and attitude, and it wasn't long they were standing there before Merrin was grinning to herself. With the way he talked to Ria, laughing and ducking his head and touching her arm, it was obvious that he had more than just rump roast on his mind.
By the time she managed to extricate herself, Ria had two spots of pink color on her cheeks, and one look at Merrin's expression only had them deepening.
'Sooo...' She bit the inside of her cheek, hesitated, considered her options, decided to ask. 'Who was that lovely gentleman?'
'Shhhh!' Ria hurried them away, pushing her along as the butcher smiled after them, and only turned to look at her when they were several paces away, still blushing. 'That's..uh..that was Anoriath.'
Merrin looked at her pointedly. 'He seems nice.'
But Ria refused to take the bait. 'He is nice. He and his brother came to Skyrim from Valenwood, about ten years ago, so he says. He really likes to hunt, and sells most of what he catches here in the market.' She averted her gaze, sounding casual. 'We've gone hunting together in the plains a few times, since I've joined the Companions.'
It didn't seem like she'd overstepped with her question, and that encouraged her. Grinning, Merrin reached out and elbowed the lanky woman.
'Ria, out with it. He obviously has a thing for you.'
Finally, Ria met her eye; her angular face was very pink, but her expression had gone resolute, and she nodded.
'That may be true,' she conceded, sounding wry. 'But unfortunately, I don't have a thing for him. He'll have to be getting his meat somewhere else.'
The answer caught Merrin off guard, from this girl she was just getting to know, and a delighted burst of laughter came exploding out of her. She grinned, mouth open in surprise, and stared at the Imperial with brown eyes dancing. 'Ria!'
Ria ducked her head, but she was grinning too. 'Come on, stay focused. There's more to see.'
They stopped momentarily at the third stall in the market, but it was empty and unattended. Ria stared at it, eyebrows furrowed.
'Huh. She must be taking a day off. This is Fralia Gray-Mane's stall—Eorlund's wife. She's usually here during the days, selling jewellery that Eorlund makes. Gorgeous stuff, if you can afford it.'
'I usually can't.'
'Well...' Ria looked thoughtful. 'Stay with us, and do some jobs, and soon that might not be the case.'
She knew about both Belethor and Arcadia's shops, and said as much, so Ria skipped them over; instead she led her through a short, angled alley between the two buildings, past a guard who was watching the market, looking bored.
The road led to another residential area. The homes here weren't as nice as the ones in the Wind District, but they were apparently more affordable—and this part of the city didn't see much bustle, so it was good for people who wanted peace and quiet.
'There's an old woman there'—Ria pointed to the house farthest down the way—'named Olava the Feeble, that will tell you your fortune, if it interests you. She can read palms, tea leaves, crystals...she even does the old Nordic scrying.' At that part, she shuddered. 'Poor birds.'
Poor birds is right. Merrin looked at her, trying to mask her skepticism. 'And do you like going to have your fortune told?'
'Nah.' She mustn't have done a very good job, because Ria looked at her expression and grinned. 'I'd rather have it be a surprise! Let me find out how my life is gonna go by me living it, you know?'
Her words reminded Merrin suddenly and vividly of Hadvar, staring at her wistfully before she left his uncle's house; saying he was the kind of man who believed in making his own fate.
She nodded. 'I know exactly what you mean.' As they circled back, she doubted very much she'd be visiting Olava.
They were in the last leg of the tour, now—walking down the last stretch of the main road, passing things she'd all seen before, and just didn't have the names for.
'This house belongs to a farmer named Severio. No wife or family—he's been working hard to get his farm off the ground. Hopefully that giant didn't set him back too much.'
'This house is empty right now, for sale. It's called Breezehome. Cute, isn't it?'
The Imperial stopped walking in front of the smithy, and turned to her. 'This is Warmaiden's. It's owned and run by a couple, and the wife does all the smithing. I think her name is Adrienne. But I don't have much need to ever come down this way—Eorlund does all my repairs.'
Merrin grimaced; Adrienne hadn't been kidding when she'd griped about Eorlund being tough competition. Even some people in her own city didn't know her!
'And that's the Drunken Huntsmen.' Ria was pointing now to the tavern on the low hill, with torches blazing on either side of the doors, and a set of buck antlers mounted on the lintel.
'This place is alright, but it's pricier than the Mare. It's owned and run by Anoriath's brother, Elrindir. He's...alright, too,' she hedged. 'The Huntsmen is technically an inn, but it never has vacancy—the rooms are full of permanent boarders, including a Dunmer mercenary.' Then she chuckled. 'Not like you'll be needing to hire anyone, anymore.'
If Ria knew that someone had contracted the Companions to deal with Elrindir, she wasn't letting on about it, and Merrin decided that now wasn't the time to inform her if she didn't. She just nodded at the other girl's words, saying nothing, and let her continue.
'And last, but not least, the guard's barracks.' She waved her hand with a flourish at the last building, directly ahead of them and beside the city gates; a low, square affair made of sturdy wood with tiny windows, and a widow's walkabout on the roof that guards probably used as a vantage point.
'If you're ever in trouble and you can't get to us for some reason, just alert the guards here and they'll give you a hand. Commander Caius leads the city's armed guard, and he's more than capable at it. He and the Companions have banded together in the past, when a situation has called for it.'
Ria spun around to face her then. 'And that's it! The grand tour, finished. I hope it was helpful.' She was smiling at Merrin, looking pleased with herself, and Merrin answered her honestly.
'It was helpful. I'm not used to having anybody to show me around when I end up somewhere new.' She shrugged, and even though she felt a bit awkward, she smiled back. 'It was actually fun, and I'm grateful. Thank you, Ria.'
Ria waved her hand to shoo away Merrin's words, but her grin widened.
'None of that, Merrin. You're one of us now! I wouldn't think of doing less.' The woman's dark eyes danced then as she looked at her. 'If you're really grateful, how about you repay me by joining me for some early lunch, back at the Bannered Mare? I'd be grateful for the company, and I can answer any questions you might still have.'
The morning had passed quickly as they'd wandered the streets, and the sun was beating down on both of their heads; the noontide meal wasn't far off anyway... and she did have more questions. She smiled at the unexpected offer.
'That sounds great.'
An hour later, Merrin was leaning back in an old wooden chair, feeling satisfied and at ease.
The pair of women had walked down to the Bannered Mare and taken seats close to the door, where lit sconces had splashed extra light over them and their table. They'd ordered bowls of venison stew and buttered bread, and as they'd eaten, they'd discussed a wide range of topics—predominantly about life as a Companion, and Jorrvaskr's comings and goings. The Imperial was full of tips and advice.
Merrin had finished her stew before Ria, and now she was watching the lanky girl as she talked animatedly between mouthfuls. She was just finishing explaining to her that certain other members of the Companions would be willing to help her train, if she asked.
Apparently, both Torvar and Athis would be happy to help her with her one-handed weaponry, but couldn't agree on which type of weapon was best. It was lucky that she didn't use a shield, because Njada was the best shieldmaster they had, and getting help from her was like pulling teeth from a turtle. Vilkas was, of course, the best at swordplay, and Ria herself was taking lessons from him as regularly as possible. But for agility training in her armor, she should go to Farkas...
'...But I saw that you carry a bow as well. In which case, you should ask the Huntress for help. Nobody else in Jorrvaskr can shoot like her.' Ria was using her final bit of bread now to sop up the last of her stew, and grinning at Merrin's confused expression.
'Who's the huntress?'
'Oh! Right, of course you wouldn't know. But I figured you might've guessed,' the Imperial teased.
'It's Aela. 'The Huntress' is her handle, the title she chose for herself, and it stuck. For good reason, too.' Ria shrugged. 'Nobody loves to hunt as much as her.'
Merrin thought for a second about Aela's bedroom full of pelts and trophies, the old Draugr armor she wore, and the predatory glint in her green eyes, and nodded. 'Yeah...the name makes sense.'
'If she thinks you're skilled enough not to chase her prey away, she'll take you out on a hunt. That's where the real archery lessons happen.' Ria shook her head then, grinning ruefully. 'So far, I haven't made the cut yet. The only Circle members who've taken me anywhere are Vilkas and Farkas.'
Merrin sat for a second, thinking. The Redguard serving girl saw that they'd both finished their meal, and came swooping in to take their bowls and plates. After she'd cleared out, Merrin looked again at the girl sitting across from her.
'So...what about you, then?'
Ria cocked her head. 'What about me?'
Merrin smiled. 'I'd like to know more about my guide, if she's willing.'
'Oh!' Ria chuckled, and looked pleased. 'That's easy. You have questions? Ask away.'
Merrin had always been the curious type, and joining the Companions had filled her with questions. Straightening up in her seat, she laced her hands together on the table before she spoke again.
'You said you've been with the Companions for about six months now, right?'
'That's right.'
'Well, if you don't mind me asking, what made you want to join them? What life did you leave behind to do it?'
Ria made a thoughtful sort of humming noise at her questions, and then she leaned forward too, resting pointy elbows on the wooden table top. She was wearing a wry sort of smile when she spoke.
'I don't mind at all. We'll get to know these things about each other sooner or later. Hmm. Well, you can tell just by looking at me that I'm not from Skyrim. I'm an Imperial, from Cyrodiil.'
Merrin smiled. 'So then, is Ria a nickname? Do you have one of those typical, fancy Imperial names?'
Ria snorted a laugh, and cracked a wide smile, looking surprised. 'You got me! You're the first one to have guessed. Oh, well. The Imperial names can be stuffy at times.' Then she nodded. 'Ria is a nickname.'
'Come on then,' Merrin prodded, her smile turning sly. 'Out with it. Your full name.'
In response, Ria pursed her lips, eyeing her seriously, assessingly, and for a second Merrin worried she'd crossed a line somehow.
But that mustn't have been the case, because Ria's mouth stretched into another sudden smile, and she gave Merrin a little mock bow.
'Alright then. Riannen Avalencia Mellius, at your service, madame.'
Oh!... With effort, Merrin managed to keep her face composed. But only barely.
'Wow. That is a...very fancy name...Riannen Avalencia.'
The Imperial obviously saw right through her, and eyed her pointedly. 'It is,' she agreed tartly. 'And none of the other Companions know it. You seem like a sensible woman, though, and trustworthy. Sensible and trustworthy enough to keep this information to yourself.'
The words were about as subtle as a hammer, and as the two women eyed each other, a sort of understanding passed between them. Merrin saw the gesture for the hand of friendship that it was, and her bright eyes danced as they held the other woman's.
'Of course. Your secret is safe with me, Miss Mellius.'
'Good.' The Imperial's darker eyes were just as full of merry mischief now. 'Then we'll stick with just Ria in company, if you don't mind.'
Merrin nodded, but then a new thought hit her, and she asked another dubious question.
'It is Miss Mellius, isn't it? Or did you leave more than just your name behind in Cyrodiil?'
The question took a second to sink in, and then Ria whooped a laugh that turned a couple of heads at other tables.
'Oh,' she gasped, when she'd composed herself. 'Oh, I like you already. Yes, you silly rabbit, it's just Miss Mellius. There's no husband pining after me, back in Cyrodiil.' The image must have amused her, because she started laughing again. 'Me! When would I have the time?'
'Men do take up a lot of a woman's time, don't they?' But Merrin said it fondly; she'd had only a man to raise her, and some of the dearest friends of her life were men.
'That they do.' But Ria sounded fond as well, and then she shook her head. 'No, what I really left behind in Cyrodiil was my family's farm.' She shrugged. 'Much less exciting, and even more time consuming.'
'Tell me about it?'
Ria smiled. 'It was my parents, my grandfather, my seven other siblings, and me.'
Merrin sucked in a breath. 'Full house.' She was thinking comparatively about the cabin she'd grown up in, empty but for her and her father.
'Full is an understatement,' Ria said with a chuckle. 'Full, and busy. We grew crops and raised livestock. We were out in the country, but not too far from the nearest town, and once a week my pa would wagon up and take one of us with him to sell some of what we grew. Fruit, vegetables, milk, eggs, wool—you name it.'
'It sounds...wholesome,' Merrin offered. 'A good place for a child to grow up.'
Ria smiled, but for the first time there was a tinge of sadness to it. 'It was. And I love my family, very much. It was hard to leave them. But...' her eyes met Merrin's, and they spoke as she did.
'In Cyrodiil, things aren't so relaxed as they are here in Skyrim. When it comes to...certain things, tradition is very important, and—and—oh, piss on it.'
She heaved a great impatient sigh, and the fingers she'd been unconsciously wringing together came flying apart as she gestured with both hands.
'I was sick to death of growing crops by the time I was of age—since I was a little girl, I'd always wanted to be a Companion. It was my life-long dream.'
Merrin's stomach gave a funny thump at her words, but she didn't say anything, and Ria continued.
'I told my parents that, continuously, but neither of them took me seriously. I'm the baby of the family, and a girl. So despite what I wanted, all my father was concerned with was marrying me off to the best possible match I could get.'
Merrin wrinkled her nose in surprise. 'I don't understand...I've done a lot of work in Cyrodiil, and I was impressed at how...Cosmopolitan and equal-opportunity it was. I saw as many women guards as men, and plenty of women mercenaries. There were even women in the high courts.'
'That's how it is in the cities.' When Ria responded, her voice was forlorn. 'But I lived in the countryside, and in the countryside, things are still set back quite a bit. Arranged marriages are still popular, and men and women have roles in society that they fill, and typically don't cross out of.'
Merrin looked at the woman across from her, and felt a swell of sympathy; she couldn't imagine being caged by her father, simply because of her sex. It wasn't fair.
'So, what happened, then? How did you come to leave Cyrodiil, and make your way to Jorrvaskr?'
'My father died,' Ria said simply. 'No, no, don't look like that,' she said hurriedly when she saw Merrin blanch. 'I wouldn't have answered if I didn't feel like it.'
Merrin winced. 'I just wasn't expecting that for an answer. I'm sorry, Ria, if I upset you.'
She knew that not every culture was as cavalier about death as the Nords, and was worried that she'd offended the first person in Jorrvaskr to show her real kindness.
But Ria didn't look offended.
'It's alright, Merrin, really.' The willowy woman straightened in her chair, her eyes suddenly looking far away. 'I mourn him every day, it's true. I know he only meant to take care of me. But what I said is the truth, too. His dying is the reason why I'm sitting here talking to you.'
'How..so?'
'Because, when he died, my mother wanted nothing to do with running the farm anymore—she gave my brothers their inheritances early. My oldest brother Cassian took over in his stead.'
She smiled. 'There are ten years between us, but Cassian has always understood me in a way that the rest of my family didn't, really. My two sisters had already been married off at that point...one of them happily, the other, much less so. And he looked at me, and I guess he saw that I was desperate to leave, because he intervened.'
'What do you mean?' She was almost too afraid to ask.
Ria still had a faraway look, and she pursed her lips again. 'It sounds horrible, but my pa died at just the right time. A couple months before, he'd finally found me a 'suitable man'. I was betrothed, and my wedding was to be early this past spring.'
Merrin was engrossed in the story, and her voice was horrified as she spoke. 'No.'
'Yes.'
'Even though he knew how you felt?'
'Especially because he knew how I felt. He knew I wanted my freedom, and he was afraid I would bolt, so he arranged for the shortest possible engagement.'
'That's horrible!' Merrin cried, outraged.
'That's a well-meaning father in rural Cyrodiil,' Ria replied, with some bitterness.
'So what happened?' Merrin demanded.
'Well, my pa had used a lot of his favor to try and find me the wealthiest man who would have me—a middling country girl. He ended up with a man who lived far from us, who owned land just outside of Cheydinhal. His family name was Antaea. He sounded suitable, and interested, so they entered into negotiations. But since we lived so far apart, correspondence took a lot of time.'
'You didn't try to leave in that time?' Merrin couldn't believe what she was hearing.
Ria sighed. 'Try to understand. That's just how things were, back at home. And I love my family. I didn't want to anger and worry them by just taking off. I thought I could talk my pa out of the arrangement, if I stayed.'
She shook her head, long hair swaying around her elbows. 'But I didn't really get the chance. He sent a letter to the Antaea's saying that they'd reached a satisfactory agreement, and that my betrothed should travel down to meet me in person. Then, a couple days later, he keeled over in one of the fields.' She grimaced.
'My brother knew what the last letter had said, and knew my betrothed was coming. I was a mess—grieving over my pa, and feeling like a bird in a cage. Cassian came to me one day after sundown, and told me that he would get me out. He said that when my betrothed made it to our farm, that he would break off the engagement and send him back to Cheydinhal.'
Merrin let out a breath she hadn't known she was holding, and nodded slowly. 'So that's how it happened? Your brother broke off your engagement and sent the Antaea man home? And you were finally free to come here?'
For a single beat, a shadow flitted across Ria's face, and she looked down at the table.
But in the next second, it had passed. She gave Merrin a small smile, and nodded as she met her gaze again.
'Yeah, that's how it happened. Cassian gave me leave to travel. None of the rest of them really approved—especially not mother—but I guess they could finally see that I was serious. My next oldest brother, Percius, came with me in a carriage, and we crossed the northern border into Falkreath hold. From there, we made our way to Whiterun, and when my brother's last-ditch attempt to change my mind wouldn't work, he went back home to Cyrodiil.'
She grinned then, and spread out both hands in a flourishing motion, sounding cheerful. 'And six months later, here I am! A happy whelp, living the dream and learning with the mighty warriors of Jorrvaskr. Having lunch with you.'
Merrin looked at the other woman carefully. What had she not said, a few seconds before? For a second, she considered calling Ria out—asking her what she was hiding.
But just as quickly, she decided against it. Obviously, it was something private, and she was hardly in a position to be digging around in people's guarded secrets. Swallowing, she made herself smile in return and say something.
'I'm really happy for you, Ria. It's wonderful that you finally made it here.'
Whether the tense moment had been real or imagined, it had passed; Ria nodded at her, smiling warmly, her eyes no longer seeming far away.
'Thank you. It's wonderful to be here.' Then she propped one elbow back on the table, and rested her pointed chin in one hand, eyeing Merrin with fresh interest.
'What about you?'
Merrin tensed; she'd been dreading this question. She liked Ria, but until she had her situation a little more figured out, she had no more intention of telling her about Helgen or the dragon or Dalan Dufont than she had of telling Aela. Slowly, she raised her brows.
'What about me?' She asked cautiously.
Ria must've seen right through her, because she snorted and waved her other hand dismissively.
'Oh, relax. It's obvious that you don't want to talk about where you came from or what brought you to Whiterun. All in good time.'
Merrin blushed for the second time in as many days, embarrassed and awkward. Was she so obvious? She opened her mouth to respond, but Ria kept talking.
'I just want to know what it is that made you want to be a Companion.'
That question gave Merrin pause, snapping her out of her prickle of embarrassment, and she looked at Ria in surprise. A silence stretched between them then, with Ria patiently waiting; Merrin was the one to break it, in a careful tone of voice.
'You know...out of all the people who live in Jorrvaskr, you're the only person to actually ask me that.'
'You can't really say that yet, seeing how you still haven't met Vignar or Brill.' Ria grinned playfully at her, eyes teasing. 'But it doesn't much matter—I'm the most inquisitive, caring, friendly person they've got. Or at least, that's what I keep telling them.'
Despite herself, Merrin let out a laugh, and then abruptly sank back against the wooden rungs of her chair, feeling relieved.
Ria wasn't going to push her for information—that much was clear. What could it hurt to be honest? Pushing her unruly waves back out of her face, Merrin hit the other woman with a smirk.
'Alright. So you want to know why I wanted to be a Companion. Do you swear not to laugh?'
Ria's eyes danced, and she placed a hand over her heart—the girl was obviously a huge tease. 'Solemnly.'
Merrin's eyes narrowed in response, but her smile widened all the same. 'I don't know if you'll believe me, actually. It's corny. But it's the truth. And I think you of all people will appreciate it.'
'Out with it, woman!' Ria slapped the same hand down on the wooden table top for emphasis. 'You're as bad as Torvar. I want answers!'
Merrin waited another second, and then confessed. 'It was actually my childhood dream, too. Same as you.'
Ria didn't laugh; she looked dumbfounded for a full second, and then leaned back in her chair and tsked, looking accusatory.
'Really?' She swatted at one of Merrin's hands. 'You're pulling my leg! I told Torvar when I was new that it had been my lifelong dream to be a Companion, and he opened his big mouth the next night in front of everyone. Now most of them pick on me about it.' She huffed. 'And now you too, I guess.'
'No, I promise—I'm telling the truth.' Merrin held both hands out in a peaceable gesture, trying to look convincing. 'I told you it was corny. But it's something we have in common.' She huffed. 'Torvar really did that? Jeez,' she muttered. 'And he seemed so harmless last night.'
'He is harmless, unless you count gossip as a weapon.' Ria huffed, and shook her head. 'But enough about him. Are you serious? You really mean it?'
'Yes,' she replied earnestly. 'I have no reason to lie. My da raised me on stories about the Companions from as early as I could understand, and never stopped. As I got older, he just got fresher stories...' She smiled at the memories. 'One of my favorites is the one about Skjor and the hundred-and-one Orc berserkers.'
Ria's expression had softened since she'd last seen it, and after a second of silence, a slow smile tugged itself free from one side of her mouth.
'Apparently, Kodlak was there, too,' she said dryly. 'And Skjor insists that it was more like forty berserkers. But he's just being modest.' She propped both elbows onto the table again, and leaned into them, her smile widening as she looked at Merrin.
'It's one of my favorite stories, too. Alright, I believe you. In that case, it's good to have another nostalgic sap on board. Good on your pa to raise you that way.'
'There never was much I could fault him on.' The Gods knew that was the truth.
'So where is he now? Your pa?' Ria was still wearing an easy smile.
Merrin hadn't been expecting the question, even though she should have, what with all the talk of fathers. And even though it had been so long, a sharp little pain dug its way into her chest. She fumbled on an answer, smile fading, before just looking sort of helplessly at Ria. Then she hissed out a slow breath and propped her chin in one hand.
'Hopefully in Sovngarde.' She stared levelly at the other woman as she said it, and tried her best to answer as levelly as she had.
Ria blanched; her cheeks and neck turned red, and her mouth popped open on a surprised little 'o'. Looking mortified, she reached out with one thin hand and wrapped it around Merrin's wrist.
'Oh, Merrin. I'm so sorry. It was thoughtless of me to ask like that. I—'
But Merrin shook her head. 'You did nothing wrong. We've just traded places, from the looks of it. It's like you said—I wouldn't have answered if I hadn't felt like it.' The Imperial looked like she needed comforting, so Merrin reached out and patted the hand gripping her wrist.
'I still should be more careful! I really am sorry.' Ria took a shaky breath, and then let go of her wrist, only to grab her free hand instead and squeeze. 'When...?'
She knew what Ria was asking, and supplied the answer automatically. 'Four years ago, this past Mid Year. And then I picked up and left my family farm behind...so to speak.'
'Four years...may the gods rest his soul.' Ria's eyes were actually glassy with unshed tears, and that combined with the warmth of her hand made Merrin's stomach jump at the intimacy; she wasn't used to strangers caring about her.
'I'm sure they have.' Like always, it was hard to talk about her father for any length of time, and her throat was tight as she squeezed Ria's hand. 'Really, Ria. It's alright. I'm alright. It's not rude to ask about somebody and then find out they're dead.'
The sensible words hung between them for a while, and then Ria sniffed and shook her head; the blotchy blush was dying away, but slowly.
'Well, at least let me buy you a drink. Damn.' She grimaced at herself. 'I don't think you were expecting such heavy talk over a bowl of stew with someone you hardly know.'
'Well,' Merrin said slowly, 'to be honest, I wasn't. But I really don't mind.' It was the truth.
Ria looked at her doubtfully, and raised a hand to signal Hulda for a drink, but Merrin surprised herself by reaching out and catching that hand with hers, and pulling it back down to the table.
'I appreciate the offer, Ria, but I can't stay for a drink. I really should get moving—Farkas gave me my first job this morning, while I was waiting for you.'
Ria looked embarrassed again, and slipped her hands out of Merrin's. 'Yeah, I'll bet! You're just running away because I put my foot in my mouth.' She sighed.
'Athis is always telling me that I'm too meddlesome. But I'm not, I swear! At least,' she colored again, and her eyes fell to the table top. 'I try not to be.'
She looked so forlorn that Merrin felt an overwhelming urge to comfort her, and she leaned forward in her seat so that she could rest a hand on the woman's shoulder.
'Hey, hey. None of that! I swear, Ria, I'm telling you the truth. I'm not running away, I just have work to do. I'm not mad at you for anything.'
Ria looked up again, with an expression that said she was hesitant to trust her words. 'Are you sure? I feel like an ass. I wanted to show you around to help you. Not to end up upsetting you. You're new here, and...'
'I'm absolutely sure,' Merrin said firmly. 'It's like you said—sooner or later, our stories will come out. You didn't upset me at all.'
More needed to be said. She could feel it in the air around the table. But what if she said too much? The wrong thing? Internally, she cursed. She'd been living and working alone for too long, it seemed. Resolutely, she opened her mouth.
'And...'
The truth! Just tell her the truth!
'And...it's actually more than that. You've been really kind to me, over the last couple days, and you've helped me a lot. I'm...not used to that sort of thing,' she said stiffly. 'But I've really enjoyed it. You've made me feel welcomed, and I'm happy to have met you, Ria. Thank you.'
As soon as the words were out, she felt less foolish about them—and they obviously had the desired effect. Ria's cheeks pinked, and the sad look melted off of her face, to be replaced by a slow, dazzling smile.
'Really?'
She found herself smiling back in response. 'Really.'
'Well...okay, then.' Ria let out a laugh that was more like a giggle. 'You're welcome, then. I'm glad!'
At that point, the serving girl came swishing over to ask if they'd like anything else to eat or drink, and Ria shook her head at her.
'Nope, nothing else today. We've got work to do.'
She ignored Merrin's protests as she covered the cost of both bowls of stew, and then cheerfully shoved her hand away when she tried to repay her.
'As if. I asked you to lunch, remember? Now,' she grinned. 'You really have a job to do for Farkas?'
Merrin eyed her beadily for one hard second, and then sighed in defeat. 'Yeah.'
'Your first real job! Exciting,' she replied sagely. 'Do you know where you're going? I've gotta head out on a job of my own, but I can give you directions if you need them.'
She smiled, warmed by yet another kind offer. 'No, I should be fine to find my own way. I had a pretty good guide to show me around, you know.'
Ria's cheeks went pink again at the words, and she looked pleased. 'Right, right. Well then...good luck! You'll have to tell me how it went...Shield-Sister.'
The title was still so new that hearing it gave her goose-bumps, and she rubbed one of her arms as she nodded, and the two women stood to leave.
'Thanks. I'll do that.'
As she walked down the main road of the Plains District on her way back to Jorrvaskr, she felt unabashedly triumphant, and turned her face up to greet the sun just as Ria had earlier, with new-found appreciation.
The job at the Drunken Huntsman had been easier than she'd anticipated. Farkas had been right; when it came down to it, Elrindir had been all bark and no bite. Olfrid Battle-Born was a frequent patron at his tavern, and apparently a good friend too, because the Bosmer had taken up his stubborn mantle and started bashing the Gray-Manes—and Stormcloaks in general—to anybody that dared to talk to him. Not exactly surprising, when you considered the way the Bear of Eastmarch treated elves.
When she'd confronted him, he'd said some things that gave her cause to believe that he'd been denying service to anybody who disagreed with him—so that was probably what Farkas had meant by 'throwing his weight around'.
Fortunately for her, he'd actually looked to weigh very little; he'd been a lanky mer, with not a lot of muscle, and the threat of having his ass handed to him had been enough to get him to shut up, in the end. But it hadn't been a very willing agreement, and she was glad that the Bannered Mare was apparently the nicer tavern, because she had the distinct feeling that she was officially less than welcome in the Huntsman.
She noticed Anoriath waving cheerfully at her as she passed by his stall in the market, and returned the wave feeling only slightly guilty as she made her way to the stairs.
At some point she'd run into Farkas again, and get paid. But at the moment, she was focused on just one thing: armor. Eorlund had made her a generous offer, and she fully planned to take him up on it—she was going to need good, quality armor if she wanted to do any dangerous jobs.
She didn't have enough gold to pay him for the set they'd make, but again, doing jobs would fix that problem, and she'd make good on her debt. First, she needed protection.
At the core of it, she was excited—excited to work a forge again, and especially one as amazing as the Skyforge. It had been years since she'd done more than basic repairs, and she was looking forward to getting back into the stride of things. Never in her wildest dreams had she actually believed she'd get to work alongside the Eorlund Gray-Mane.
The man himself was standing in view on the rocky outcrop that held the Skyforge, and he raised a hammer in salute to her as she climbed the stairs to Jorrvaskr. She raised a hand in return, and smiled as he lumbered back to the forge, basking in the optimism blooming in her chest.
Her first official day was turning out to be better than she'd dared to hope for.
What was that old adage, about spooking off a good mood by noticing it was there? She and the smith hadn't been talking for very long before things went decidedly awry.
When she'd arrived, Eorlund had sat and listened by the forge as she'd described the set of armor she was looking to make; the longer she'd talked, the more incredulous he'd looked.
She'd been expecting some push back from the older smith; it was an unconventional blend of pieces, and she knew it. But when she'd finished her description, he'd actually scoffed in reply, and her anticipation hadn't done much to prevent her getting offended. Her design was more than sound, and she knew it—she'd been relying on it for the past four years. But he was treating her proposal as if it were preposterous.
In a span of minutes, they'd found themselves in the midst of an unexpected but passionate argument, and now Merrin was shaking her head in disbelief. Was this the effect that Eorlund had on all of his clients?
No, an inner voice sighed, snidely. Of course not. Only you would get so worked up over a suit of armor that you're tempted to punch the greatest smith in Tamriel.
But it obviously wasn't only her; Gray-Mane may have been modest, but he was bullheaded beyond anything she'd imagined!
As if he could hear her thoughts, Eorlund fixed her with a hard look and pursed his lips as he took a step back. 'Way you have it, half of this armor won't even be steel, girl. I work with steel.'
She stared back at him just as stubbornly. 'You're more than qualified as a leather worker. I know you are. You didn't get to being the best smith in Skyrim on steel alone.' She put one hand on a cocked hip, and when she spoke she sounded exasperated. 'But if it bothers you that much, I can focus on all of the leather work, and you needn't concern yourself.'
Eorlund huffed. 'Don't think I don't see the trick in those words. I'm not so easily baited.' Still eyeing her, he set down the hammer he'd been holding and crossed his arms, muscles tightly banded. 'I could work the leather, aye. But this design...it's strange, and seems ill-favored. I don't normally get requests like this.' He snorted. 'And when I do, I don't usually fill them.'
'Why not?' She was trying to sound level, and not really succeeding.
'Well, for starters, it isn't even a full design!'
She huffed, incredulous. 'Yes, it is.'
'In the name of—there are pieces missing, girl!' He'd abandoned his restrained stance somewhere along the sentence's way, and now he was waving both huge hands around. 'Full design, my eye!'
'I've told you everything I'll need,' she snapped. 'I came up with this design myself, tailored specifically to my style and my needs. It will serve me well.'
For a second, they just stared each other down. Then Eorlund quickly shot out a question, already sounding triumphant, as if he were proving his point.
'And what for a cowter piece?'
'I'll go without,' she answered just as swiftly. 'I don't need them.'
'I'm sure your elbows would disagree.'
She gritted her teeth. 'My elbows will be fine. I'll protect them with my form instead – the form I'll still have without a solid steel tube for a rerebrace.'
He grumbled to himself, bushy brows drawn together. 'Oh, I see. Of course. And what about the demi-gaunts? Been a long while since a warrior asked me for a pair of those ninny things. Never saw him again after that, either,' he said, eyeing her steadily to make his meaning clear.
'I don't just use a sword. I shoot a bow at range. I need my fingers uncovered to do that.' Merrin glared. 'Hard to shoot a bow in a pair of steel mittens.'
'Hard to use a bow or a sword, when you've got no fingers,' the older smith retorted.
Merrin threw up her hands then, and her voice rose with them. 'You're the most sought-after smith in the continent! And you're acting like this is the first set of hybrid armor anyone's ever asked you to make. There are more ways to fight than just the Nordic way, you know.'
Eorlund bristled, and drew up to his full and considerable height. His booming voice more than matched her own, and he wasn't even shouting.
'A fact I know well—one I definitely don't need a newblood remindin' me of. I am the finest smith we've got, and you've got it wrong. It ain't that I only make Nordic arms and armor. It's that I only make safe arms and armor. I didn't make it to being the best by sellin' folks their buryin' clothes.'
For several long moments, the only sound was the distant wail of Heimskr's sermon. Merrin bit back several things she wouldn't allow herself to say. Then she forced her balled up fists to unclench, forced herself to let out a breath, and raised her brows on a safer reply.
'You know...you're awfully concerned with safety, for someone who doesn't even wear a shirt when he works the forge.'
For a second, Eorlund looked downright constipated, and puffed out his chest like he had some indignant reply. But then he surprised her, and laughed instead—a gusty, begrudging sort of laugh that made his serious blue eyes twinkle again. He shook his head as he looked at her, and then stroked a huge hand over the wild hair of his beard. A hint of a smile played at the edges of his mouth, and some of the tension that had built up between them abruptly melted.
'Maybe you're right about that, girl.'
'I'm right about the armor,' she persisted. 'I'm not just making this up. Well – I mean, I did make it up, but –' She cursed. 'I know this armor will perform, Eorlund, because it's the same build I've been using for the last four years.' And I shouldn't have to tell you that to get you to listen to me. She crossed her arms and looked at him pointedly.
'...Huh.' For a few seconds, Eorlund looked properly sheepish. 'Guess I shoulda figured it was somethin' like that, what with your...hm.' Then his brow furrowed, making him look as if an idea had just occurred to him. When he met her gaze again, he was actually looking annoyed.
'Hold a minute. You mean to tell me that you're coming to me askin' for me to replicate a suit that some average, backwater smith made you? Me?'
After only a second of struggle, Merrin very generously bit her tongue on the words trying to leap from her mouth, and settled on somewhat less rude ones.
'That's big talk, for someone who never even saw the armor. Not to mention very modest. I did grow up hearing about what a modest man you are, Eorlund.' She stared at him pointedly. 'This must be what my da was on about.'
Another moment of incredulous staring; another begrudging gust of laughter.
'You little bobcat,' he eventually chuckled. 'Whoever your da was, he earned his rest, raisin' up a mouth like yours.'
His stance loosened, no longer confrontational, and then he hit her with a sudden grin. 'But you're right, again. Lucky for you, I think some sass is a good thing. There're times t'keep your yap shut, and times to open it. I've not yet gotten so old an' stuffy that I can't take a call-out when I need one.'
Merrin was still riled up, and she huffed at him. 'Good! And I'm not so young and inexperienced that I don't know when to hold my ground.' She took a step towards him. 'The design is good. My work is good. Hear me out...please,' she tacked on begrudgingly. 'I very much would like to work with you, Eorlund. It would be an honor. But only if you're willing to listen to me.' Then she snapped her jaw shut, and stood there, breathing hard.
He stared at her for a long moment, and then snorted before picking his hammer back up off the workbench.
'Well, chin-up, then. If you work a forge as fancy as you put up a fuss, then we'll do just fine.'
She took in the look on his face, the hammer in his hand, the words he'd said, and a suspicious little bubble of hope came sneaking into her chest. 'Wait,' she said cautiously. 'Does that mean...you'll do it? You'll build from my design?'
'Shor's bones, girl,' he rumbled. 'But you're like a dog worryin' the meat off a bone. Yeah, that's what it means. We'll work with your design. Mind you,' he raised his voice and kept talking over any reply she might've made, 'I still got problems with those bare fingers. And we'll be making some improvements. I don't put out work that you could get just any old place.'
Her anger deflated at his words almost as quickly as it had come, pushed out by rising, bubbling excitement, and her face broke into a grin. She was pretty sure the lofty tone to his words was unintentional, and it was on the tip of her tongue to tease him about it. But she reeled herself in at the last second; whether or not he said he liked some sass, she thought it was probably best not to push it for now. Instead, she did her best to sound serious and innocent.
'Of course. Where should we begin?'
The older man probably saw right through her, because he shook his head and rolled his eyes.
'I suppose we'll start with the breastplate. Most sensible piece in the whole damn lot.' He turned from her, jerking a thumb off to the side. 'Grab that pair of tongs over there, an' let's stop burning daylight.'
'Let me get dressed. Where do you keep your aprons?'
'Wuh?' He turned back around to face her, looking confused, and then pshhed when he realized what she was talking about.
'Don't have any of them things. Have no use for 'em.'
She could only sigh and shake her head, before she went and grabbed the tongs.
'Of course you don't.'
The sun was a fiery ball falling back behind the mountains by the time Eorlund announced that they'd done enough for one day, and Merrin was relieved to hear it; the combined heat of the forge and the summer day had her drenched in sweat, and her muscles were well and truly aching from all the work she'd done.
It was obvious that the older smith had been testing her, to get an idea of her skill – he'd let her take the lead in most everything they'd done, asking her questions, having her make decisions. It had been a long time since she'd actually forged something new, and now her body was making her keenly aware of just how long.
But it was satisfying work, that she loved; as Eorlund cleared the day's ashes and slag from the forge and she swept away the bits of oxidized debris, she was smiling widely. As she put aside the unused coal, she was feeling proud of herself.
There'd been no more arguing since they'd gotten down to work, and Eorlund chuckled to himself when he turned to look at her, wiping sweat from his face.
'Alright then, girl. Same time tomorrow?'
'Same time tomorrow. Have a good night.'
He gave a dry smile, and a long winded sigh. 'I'll do that, soon as I've taken a bath.'
Merrin could only agree; as they parted ways and she walked back towards Jorrvaskr, she could feel the layer of sticky sweat and grime that coated her from head to toe. She needed a bath, too. Badly.
She didn't run into anybody on her way through the hall, and in another minute she was standing in the new recruit's room, staring apprehensively at a carved wooden armoire, and feeling again like she was trespassing.
It was Ria's armoire; during their lunch in the Bannered Mare, Ria had told her about what she considered to be one of Jorrvaskr's greatest features – the spring. She'd noticed on her first day in the city that Whiterun was full of rivers and pools, so she hadn't been terribly surprised when Ria informed her that they had a lot of water running under ground, too.
This part of the province was apparently riddled with springs and underground streams, and some of them were naturally warm. And the warriors of Jorrvaskr didn't bathe in traditional tubs, because they were lucky enough to have direct access to one such warm spring, right underneath their mead hall. Some of the hall's first inhabitants had created a convenient entrance to the springs, and the Companions had been soaking in them ever since.
Ria apparently had more foresight than she did, because she'd told her she'd probably be needing a bath soon, and a fresh set of clothes to change into. She'd looked Merrin over casually at the table before announcing that they were 'basically the same size', and telling her that she was more than welcome to borrow some clothes until she had a chance to buy more of her own. Merrin had blustered at the generous offer, telling her guide that it was too generous. But, true to form, the Imperial had merely laughed off her words, insisting that she make herself at home.
And now, several hours later, here she was – standing in the bunk room, sweat chilling down her back, and staring hard at the wooden doors of the armoire.
It was hard because both things were true; it was too generous, much more so than she was used to, and the simple act of kindness was making her squirm. But she did need a bath, and she didn't have any other clothes of her own.
After another long moment of feeling like some sort of intruder, Merrin shook her head with a sigh, and forced herself to reach out and open the doors. She was alone in the room, but she still double-checked to make sure no one was watching before she reached inside. She settled quickly on a deep blue cotton tunic with laces at the neck, and a pair of cotton breeches that looked like they would be long enough, nearly the same shade of brown as her own. Then she reached down to the shelf below, yanked out a clean towel, and quickly closed the doors before she all but skittered out of the room.
She hurried down the hallway, following the instructions Ria had given her, and made a left turn back down the way that she'd taken to get that shield to Aela. But she passed by the Huntress' room; her goal was the wooden door at the very end of the hall, identical to the other two, save for the woven mat on the ground in front of it. This was apparently the door to the baths.
When she flicked the metal latch and the door came whispering open, she saw for herself that it was true. Rather than any room constructed of wood or even cobblestone, the door gave way to a rough stone tunnel, carved from the rock that the city stood on. The tunnel was forked, and as she'd been instructed to, Merrin headed for the split on the right – the side the women of Jorrvaskr used. There were no steps, but rather just carven stone that was slightly damp, curving gently downward and around a corner. The tunnel would have been pitch black, if not for the frequent lamps affixed to the walls, with thick wicks burning tallow.
It was significantly warmer down here, and steamier too – undoubtedly because of the water. After a few more seconds of walking downward, the curve of the tunnel evened out, the sound of moving water got much louder, and she came into the actual cavern of the spring.
Wow.
The light from the fires bounced off of every surface here, sending playful shadows dancing over the rocky walls, turning the slow-moving water into molten gold and bronze. Steam rose up visibly from the water, only to gather on the sloped ceiling of the cavern and then come rolling back down. At the far end of the cavern, a single tiny window had been chiselled through several feet of rock – presumably for a return of fresh air underground – and the last fading rays of the day's sunlight were glimmering through.
Mesmerized, she took a step forward.
To her right, there were several benches carved straight out of the stony wall, with cubby holes to store clothing in. To her left was a solid wall of stone – a natural outcropping that jabbed midway into the spring itself, and acted as a curtain providing privacy for anybody who wanted it. The Companions had taken advantage of nature brilliantly when they made their entryway, and so long as you didn't wander beyond the end of the outcrop, the men and the women couldn't see each other.
It was more than good enough for her; eagerly, Merrin stripped out of her filthy clothes, and shoved them and the clean ones into two different cubby holes. She left her towel on the nearest bench, and her boots in a tangle on the floor. Lastly, she pulled the leather tie from her hair that had been keeping it out of her face while she forged, and then she walked to the edge of the pool.
There were no steps descending into the water – just the natural decline of the pool itself, smooth and warm on the soles of her bare feet.
As far as Ria was concerned, the spring was one of the main reasons why Ysgramor's original Companions had picked this exact location for their mead hall; as Merrin waded waist deep into water that was deliciously warm, she whole-heartedly agreed with her. It was so perfect that she let loose a long groan of satisfaction, before submerging completely.
She was in no rush, and evidently she had the place to herself for the time being. She spread her arms and legs out wide, and just let herself come floating back up to the surface. As her face emerged, she broke into a lazy grin.
She'd taken longer than she'd meant to in the baths, and night had truly fallen while she'd been soaking in the steamy waters. She'd toweled her hair until it was just damp, and slithered gratefully into Ria's clean clothes before she'd grabbed her boots and padded back up the tunnel to the sleeping quarters. She hadn't eaten since lunch, and now that she was fresh and clean, both she and her stomach had one thing in mind: dinner.
She pulled the door to the baths shut behind her as she stepped back into the side hall, and the cool air of the lower levels was such a stark contrast that it made her shiver with delight. She was feeling so content that she was actually humming to herself as she made her way back to the recruit's room. She didn't notice anything behind her until she felt a hand grab her shoulder.
'Merrin!'
'Shor's balls!' Merrin all but shrieked, and came whirling around, heart hammering, not knowing who to expect. It turned out to be Farkas staring down at her, looking torn between sheepish and pleased.
'Farkas!'
'Hey, jeez...I didn't mean to scare you. Sorry about that.' He let his hand fall from her shoulder, and shook his head. 'I've been looking around for you for a little while now.' Suddenly he looked her over again, and smiled teasingly. 'You're looking clean.'
Her heart was still pounding in her chest, and she huffed at him with eyes narrowed before she replied.
'So are you.'
It was the truth; when she'd seen him last, he'd been grubby from the road, wearing muddy armor and with a face full of kohl. Now he was scrubbed clean and wearing plainclothes – breeches and an undyed cotton tunic. He'd obviously shaved, and when it was clean, his dark hair was nearly as thick as hers.
The most noticeable difference were the eyes, though; there wasn't a trace of black warpaint around them, and in its absence he looked younger, softer...less like a hardened warrior.
The eyes themselves were looking very blue, and they twinkled as he chuckled at her.
'Yeah, I was pretty ripe when I got back. It was high time for a bath.'
She threw her chin up and sniffed, but her irritation at being startled had faded away, so she smirked at him.
'Hmmm. I think clean is a good look on you.'
Farkas grinned then, and his eyes swept over her in a look that could only be described as appreciative.
'Not nearly as good as it looks on you.'
There it was again—a thump in the pit of her stomach, sending it fluttering.
So he was flirting now.
Feeling unsettled, Merrin cleared her throat, and tilted her head as she took a step back, shoving the thought stubbornly aside. Even if he was, she hadn't come to Jorrvaskr to be flirted with.
'You said you've been looking for me?'
Again, the moment passed, and Farkas nodded at her, looking enthusiastic.
'Yeah, that's right. I haven't been up for very long, travelling through the night and all. Now I'm starved.'
'Sleeping through the day can do that, you know,' she pointed out wryly.
He laughed. 'Don't I know it. But I was wondering if you'd eaten dinner yet.'
Her stomach chose that moment to growl loudly enough for both of them to hear, and Farkas broke out laughing again. Merrin knew they were both thinking of earlier that morning, and it pulled a snort from her before she smiled begrudgingly.
'Guess that answers my question, huh?'
'I guess it does.'
'So now I'm wondering if you'd be interested in coming with me down to the Mare. We can grab some dinner.'
A second ago he'd been flirting with her, and now, in that light...Merrin put a hand on her hip, and hedged, resolutely ignoring the clenching in her gut.
'It's been a pretty long day—I'm not sure I'd make the best company right now.'
'Pfft.' He waved her words away with one large hand, clearly paying them no mind, and shook his head.
'Please. You'll be having even longer days, before you know it. And I'm sure you're just fine company anyway. Besides – now that you're officially one of us, that makes us shield-siblings. We're gonna have to start getting to know each other sooner or later.'
It was the same thing that Ria had said to her earlier that day. He was smiling at her in an easy sort of way, and then he waggled his eyebrows at her and his tone became teasing.
'And I know you're hungry.'
She couldn't help it—she laughed. He was just so goofy, standing there, and so earnest; there was nothing underlying his offer that she could see. All at once, her hesitation melted, and she smiled at him as she shook her head.
'Fine. You've convinced me, shield-sibling. Let's go grab some dinner.'
The heat of the day had broken hours ago, and the lamp-lit streets were cool and breezy as the two of them made their way to the Plains District.
Merrin had left her hair down to finish drying, and now it cascaded in loose waves down her back and chest, getting played with by the wind. Things were pretty much peaceful in this part of the city; business was done for the day, and families were either eating dinner at home or taking evening strolls together, enjoying the indigo sky with the first of its glimmering stars peeking out.
The silence between them was easy and companionable, but she decided to break it with news.
'So. I finished that job that you asked me to do.'
'That a fact? Already?' He looked pleased, and a little surprised. 'How'd it go?'
'You were right.' She shrugged. 'He was all bark, and no bite. He straightened out when I threatened to kick his ass.'
Farkas grinned. 'You didn't even have to hit him once?'
They were climbing the steps to the Bannered Mare then, and Merrin placed a hand on one of the wooden doors before she turned around with one brow arched.
'I can be very intimidating, when I want to be.'
His eyes twinkled at her in the light spilling from the tavern's front windows. 'That's what I hired you for.'
It was Loredas, and the tavern was appropriately rowdy, filled with farmers and stable hands and all sorts of other thirsty people, talking and laughing and singing along with the bard's spirited rendition of 'Mead, Mead, Mead'. They managed to snag a table along the back wall, and a minute later the Redguard serving girl came hurrying up to them, looking harried.
Farkas was obviously familiar with the woman, and he smiled warmly at her.
'Saadia! Business as usual around here, eh?'
'More than enough business for me,' she replied, sounding rueful. 'What'll it be tonight, Farkas?'
'I don't want to be any trouble. Just bring me a plate of whatever's easiest.'
The Redguard smiled gratefully at him. 'Beef hash it is. You're an angel, Farkas. As usual.' Her dark, thickly lashed eyes flicked over to rest on Merrin. 'And for yourself?'
'I've had enough red meat and potato for the day. Would some grilled salmon and leeks be too much trouble?'
The serving girl chuckled. 'Not too much. Coming right up.'
She turned to go, and Farkas put a hand on her arm. 'Oh, and Saadia, two meads – one for me, and one for my Sister here.'
She nodded briskly and disappeared, headed in the direction of a blonde man calling to her from the fire pit.
Farkas leaned forward in his seat, putting one big elbow on the table top, and watched her go for a second before he looked back at Merrin.
'That was Saadia,' he explained. 'Nice girl.'
'She is nice,' Merrin agreed. 'I've stayed here a few nights, and never knew what her name was.' She eyed him carefully. 'She's pretty.'
He nodded easily in agreement. 'Yeah, she is.'
She stared at Farkas a little more pointedly. She didn't really know him – what kind of man he was. He'd pretty obviously flirted with her back in the mead hall, not ten minutes ago. Was he the type to flirt with any woman in front of him? She planned to find out.
'Have you two ever gotten better acquainted?' She asked bluntly. 'Emphasis on the word better.'
She wasn't expecting his reaction; he blushed.
'Uh...no. No, we haven't.'
She tried to keep her expression even, but the tiniest smile tugged at the edges of her mouth. 'Mind if I ask why not?'
He stared at her for a long second, and it seemed to occur to him that she was amused; he huffed. 'For now, let's just leave it at no.'
'But Farkas, you're the one who said it – now that we're Shield-Siblings, we'll have to get to know each other.'
Before he could make any reply, Saadia returned then with two frothy tankards, plunking them down on the table. She couldn't help but notice that he looked glad for the distraction.
Merrin reached for her coin purse to dig out some septims, but Farkas saw what she was doing and shook his head.
'Nuh uh, no way. This is your first night. First round's on me.' He swiftly pulled out a handful of septims from his own purse and dropped them into Saadia's hand.
'Don't take this woman's money, Saadia. She's stubborn.' He eyed Merrin pointedly. 'Doesn't know when to give up. But tonight's my treat. So.'
Saadia laughed, smiling at both of them before she patted Farkas on the top of his head. 'If you say so, big man. Enjoy the drinks.' In another second, she was gone again.
He hadn't just been talking about the mead; suddenly, Merrin felt foolish for pressing him, and irritated with herself. What business was it of hers, whether or not they'd been together? For a long second, they sat in silence, neither meeting the other's eye. Then Merrin sighed.
'I'm, uh...I'm sorry if I overstepped, Farkas. You're right.' She looked him in the eye. 'We don't know each other. I shouldn't tease like that.'
'No, no, that's not it.' Farkas' brow furrowed, and once again, he was looking perfectly genuine. 'I don't mind teasing. I just don't want people having the wrong idea. Saadia and me, we're just friends. That's all.'
Merrin nodded; she believed him. 'I'm sorry I pried.'
'It's okay, Merrin.' He smiled softly then, and he sounded almost shy. 'I do want us to get to know each other.'
After a second, she smiled uncertainly back at him, feeling relieved that she hadn't really upset him. 'Want to start over again?'
'Yeah.' He grinned. 'Sounds good. There're way more important things to talk about.'
'Oh yeah? Like what?'
'Like you getting paid for a job well done.' He untied a secondary pouch from his belt, and set it on the table in front of her with a jangling plop. 'One hundred gold, all for you.'
She hummed in satisfaction before she grabbed the pouch in one hand, savoring the weight in her palm. The embarrassment she'd felt a minute before faded away.
'Threatening jerks sure does pay well.'
'It does when you're a Companion, at least.'
She set down the coin pouch, picked up her tankard, and took a testing swallow of mead. It was good brew, so she took another.
'It would seem that way. Thanks for the gold. What else do you want to talk about?'
'Oh, I don't know,' he said, a bit too innocently. Then he hit her with a sly grin. 'How about you breaking my brother's wrist?'
She choked on her next swallow of mead, and came up spluttering, looking accusatory.
'How on Nirn do you know about that? You weren't even here!'
His grin widened. 'I have my ways.'
'What ways?' She grumbled. 'Mind reading? You've been asleep most of the day!'
He was clearly enjoying this turn of events, and shrugged benignly as he tried his best to look innocent with eyes that were dancing. 'Guess I've been awake just long enough.'
'Who told you? Definitely not Vilkas.' She scowled. She may not have really known the man, but she'd bet her life that he was too prideful to go walking around freely admitting he'd lost anything.
'No, it wasn't Vilkas,' he conceded. At the look on her face, he chuckled and held up his hands.
'Alright, alright. Aela told me. We bumped into each other after I woke up, and she told me about your testing. Everyone was really impressed, especially her. Vilkas is no slouch.'
She brushed the praise aside, and her scowl deepened. She took another gulp of mead, and then banged the tankard down a little too hard. 'I don't want to talk about your brother.'
When she looked back at Farkas, he seemed more solemn than before. When he answered, his voice sounded a little bit sad.
'Can I ask why not?'
She eyed him hard. 'Can you keep it to yourself? Or are you the type of twins who share everything?' She grumbled.
'I can keep it to myself.' Now he was looking sort of hurt, and she cursed herself inwardly, and sighed.
'I'm sorry, Farkas. I'm sorry. I shouldn't take my frustration out on you. I'm just...really frustrated.' She heaved another sigh.
'Your brother...doesn't like me. Normally, I wouldn't care about that sort of thing, but he doesn't just not like me—he seems to have some sort of problem with me. He took one look at me and decided point blank that I wasn't good enough to be a Companion. He underestimated me, without knowing me. And he paid for it.' She hissed out a breath. 'The way he acted, he's lucky I didn't break something more important.'
Farkas had been listening to her as she'd talked, staring at her with serious eyes, and now he nodded and spoke.
'Vilkas...I meant it earlier, when I said he was a good guy. He really is. But he's...' his brow furrowed, and he stared at the ceiling, trying to recall something. 'How did Kodlak put it?...An acquired taste.'
She huffed, and shook her head. 'I'm an adult, Farkas. I wouldn't have had any problem with him at all, if he hadn't had such a problem with me, without even knowing me!'
'That's what I'm trying to get at,' Farkas insisted. 'He doesn't have a problem with you. Not really. He just always has his guard up. He's slow to trust people – thinks that they're more bad than good.'
Merrin took in his words with some difficulty, and then sighed. 'That may be so,' she said slowly. 'But why does he have to be so gods-damned defensive?'
'The Companions are his family,' he replied simply. 'Vilkas may be a bit of a hardass, but he's loyal. Protective. Any time someone new comes along, he's on them like a hawk, making damn sure they're alright before he trusts them with the rest of us. That's just the way he is.'
Her eyes flashed. 'There's no way in hell I'm putting up with him following me around, checking up on me.'
Farkas surprised her by chuckling. 'You probably don't need to worry about that. I love my brother, but he is prideful, and arrogant. Stubborn. Now that you showed him up like that, he's more than likely to keep his distance for awhile.'
'Good.' The word came out much fiercer than she'd meant it to. But she couldn't bring herself to say anything else, so she took another awkward gulp of mead.
Farkas was looking a bit sad again. 'We'll see. With a bit of time, maybe you'll change your mind about him. He's worth getting to know.'
Like she had that morning, Merrin felt her prickly irritation softening; in its place seeped a bit of logic. One day wasn't enough time to really judge someone...and who would know Vilkas better than his twin? Farkas seemed to be confident that the two of them could get along, in time.
'...Maybe we'll see,' she muttered begrudgingly.
Her words were rewarded by a dazzling smile from Farkas, and he reached across the table and nudged her teasingly.
'That's the spirit. Give us time, Merrin, and we'll become your family, too. Just think about it.' Then he grabbed his own tankard and took a long drink, so that he missed her expression at the words he'd said, that made her insides tremble with unexpected emotion. A second later Saadia came back into view, carrying two plates at chest level, and that Farkas noticed.
'I'll drop it now, about Vilkas. Let's enjoy this food!'
And they did; for the rest of the time that they spent in the tavern, conversation flowed easily between them, and they had a good time. Surprisingly, Farkas didn't ask any questions that she didn't want to answer – she didn't have to head him off or supply a half-truth once. He asked instead about how her day had gone, and about working with Eorlund; she found out fast that he was an excellent listener.
He laughed when she described the look on Elrindir's face when she'd confronted him, and again when she complained about Eorlund not having a single apron to work in.
And then when she'd finished her stories, he'd asked her how she was liking being a Companion so far.
'It's hard to tell how I feel,' she'd admitted honestly. 'So far, I'm hopeful, but it's so much to take in. A week ago, I was...' She'd shook her head and bitten her tongue, and then changed the subject with a question. 'What about you? How do you like being a Companion?'
Farkas had grinned, and crossed his arms over his chest. 'I wouldn't trade it for the world.'
He'd looked proud when he'd said it, and it had caused her to remember something else she'd been wondering.
'How long have the two of you been Companions?'
He'd laughed at that. 'Officially? Since we came of age. But the two of us have been running around Jorrvaskr since we were just a couple of knee-high whelps.'
He'd gone on to explain to her that their father had been a Companion, himself, and that as far as Vignar Gray-Mane knew, they were the youngest people to ever be made Companions.
He hadn't said anything else about his father, and she hadn't dared to ask; he wasn't living in Jorrvaskr, and that didn't bode well, so she'd left it alone.
In the end, he'd insisted on paying for everything – dinner and several rounds of drinks – and wouldn't accept a single coin that she tried to shove at him. She'd spluttered, insisting that it was all too much, dismayed at the unexpected wave of generosity that she'd found in Jorrvaskr.
'When will I ever get to actually pay for something?!'
But Farkas had just laughed at her, and clapped her on the back.
'Oh, don't worry. Keep sayin' things like that, and you'll have Torvar up your ass in no time, asking you to spot him 'just one more' drink.'
The bard had been performing 'Ragnar The Red' when they finally left the Bannered Mare, and Farkas had loudly hummed the tune as they made their way back to Jorrvaskr through mostly empty streets. She hadn't been so relaxed or in such a good mood since before she'd taken her last job back in Morrowind, and she laughed easily when he finished his rendition at the front doors of the mead hall and tipped into an exaggerated bow.
Now they were standing there in the shadow of the threshold, staring at one another.
'Thank you, Farkas.' The words tumbled out of her.
'For what?' His smiling face was flushed slightly ruddy from drink, and his eyes were shining even in the shadows, so that they drew in her gaze. Silvery, blue...captivating.
'For tonight. For dinner. I had a lot of fun with you,' she owned. The mead was swimming through her pleasantly, and it made it easier to be honest. 'I was nervous to join the Companions, and you've made me feel...welcome.'
'You are,' he replied, and sounded eager when he said it. 'I had a great time tonight, too.' This last part seemed to be said more to himself, and he shook his head as he smiled. Then he met her gaze again.
'Any time you need anything around here, Merrin, you feel free to let me know.'
This time she couldn't ignore the hard thumping of her heart, and she just nodded mutely, at a loss for any good reply. Almost as if he could hear the thumping, Farkas' smile grew even wider. She thought for a second that he might've been blushing, but it was impossible for her to tell in the shadowy doorway, and with the flush from the mead already tinting his face. Then he straightened up, and suddenly seemed a bit more business-like.
'Anyway, come on. We'd better get inside. I'm not tired, but I bet you are. Like you said, you've had a long day.'
It was true; she was tired again. Feeling an odd prick of disappointment, she nodded at him and placed her hand on one of the oaken doors.
'Alright. After you.'
The mead hall had been mostly empty all day, but now it was a different story; Tilma was curled up in one of the armchairs in the corners, sipping from a steaming earthenware mug and intently reading from a leather-bound book. Ria, Athis and Torvar were sitting around the far edge of the great table – Ria and Torvar seemingly locked in some sort of passionate debate, and Athis watching them with amusement while quietly eating a bowl of soup. He was the first to notice them come in, but when he nudged Ria's shoulder and she looked around, her eyes lit up at the sight of them, and she waved them over.
'There you are! Both of you, get over here, I need your help to convince Torvar that he's wrong – he thinks that it's more impressive to kill a slaughterfish than a cliffracer!'
'It's her who's wrong,' Torvar shot back. 'When's the last time you saw a cliffracer make off with someone's balls? Hmm? That's what I thought! Slaughterfish are tough little bastards.'
Merrin laughed, but shook her head. 'I'm not getting involved in this. My bed is calling my name. Good luck in the battle for dominance, though.'
As she waved goodnight and headed for the stairs, Farkas pulled up the chair beside Athis and sat down with the other three, and the argument started back up.
'Farkas, explain to this numbskull how it is, in fact, more difficult to shoot a fast-moving target out of the air. Back me up.'
'Nah, man. You've gotta think about your balls!'
'I don't know, Ria,' Farkas drawled. 'A man does need to protect his assets.'
'I'll be coming for all of your assets if you lot don't pipe the hell down!'
This last was from Tilma, who hadn't even bothered to look up from her book. 'I've had to re-read this page twice 'cause of your racket. Slaughterfish will be the least of your worries if I need to read it again!'
Compared to the noise of the mead hall, the sleeping quarters were calm and quiet. Again, Merrin didn't encounter anybody else before slipping into the recruit's room; Vilkas, Aela, and Skjor were nowhere to be seen – maybe in their own rooms. She had no idea where Njada might've been, but she was glad that it wasn't the two of them alone in the room.
She was in the process of turning down her sheets for the night when there was a knock on the door. She jumped, her first thoughts being that she was going to be stuck alone with Njada, afterall. But she realized in the same moment that that didn't make any sense; Njada wouldn't have knocked.
So she was apprehensive when she opened the door, not knowing who to expect. The person actually standing there was the one she'd expected least of all.
'Pardon me. I'm not disturbing you, am I, Merrin?'
She gasped in surprise. 'Harbinger!'
Kodlak White-Mane was standing in front of her, with candlelight playing over his long face and beard. The armor of the Circle had been replaced for the night with a loose pair of cotton pants and a woolen tunic, but he seemed no less commanding without it. He was looking her over seriously, with his stormy grey eyes looking thoughtful, and now a hint of a smile played around his lips.
'You can just call me Kodlak, if you'd like.' He said it kindly, and a little ruefully.
She could hardly believe he was there.
'To what do I owe the visit, Harb—Kodlak?' She hadn't known when she'd next see the Harbinger, due to their difference in rank; she'd never imagined that he would come to her. Remembering her manners through her shock, she took a hasty step back from the door and opened it wide. 'Could I invite you in?'
'Actually, I was wondering if you would mind joining me in my study, for a conversation.' Now, he smiled at her for real. 'We've not had a chance to speak properly, yet.'
'But, I'm...just a new recruit,' Merrin fumbled. 'Surely, you have more important things to do?'
He chuckled at that, and clasped his hands behind his back before he answered, again sounding kind.
'My dear girl, you have the wrong idea about me. I am the Harbinger of the Companions; it's my role and my pleasure to keep company with any who would take the time. What good is a Harbinger who doesn't interact with his fellows – especially the new ones?' His grey eyes were shining now. 'I am not a statue, made to look stern and sit in my quarters. How dull and stiff my life would be, if I didn't call on those around me!'
Merrin hesitated, but she could see plainly that he was genuine; after a second, she relented.
'I...I see. I hadn't really thought about it that way. In that case, if you would have me...' she straightened up. 'I would love the chance to speak with you.' Again, his presence elicited a strong desire for his approval, and she tried to stop stammering and tamp it down. Damn these nerves!
He nodded his shaggy head, seeming pleased. 'Excellent. Follow me then, if you would.'
She started following a step behind him down the hallway, but almost immediately he turned and asked her to walk along beside him. She did so, nervously, and had to resist the urge to wring her hands together as they walked; she had no idea what to expect from this conversation.
'Please, make yourself comfortable.' When they entered into his study, Kodlak gestured with a hand to the same chair that Vilkas had occupied when she'd entered Jorrvaskr the day before; she sank into it slowly, feeling somewhat surreal. He offered her a goblet of red wine, which she politely turned down, and then poured one for himself, claiming that 'a glass or two in the evenings helped to calm the thoughts of the day.'
Kodlak seemed to sense her nerves, and he smiled at her again before he reached out and patted her hand where it gripped the arm of her seat – a very fatherly gesture.
'And please, do try to relax, Merrin. This is a social visit, not an interrogation.'
'I'm sorry.' She bit out a sigh. 'Pardon my nervousness, please. I just wasn't expecting to be called on by you.' She offered him a small smile, full of chagrin, and then managed to chuckle at herself. 'It's been a very full two days.'
'There's nothing to pardon.' He returned her smile knowingly. 'We were all new once. That's mostly what I wanted to discuss with you—how are you settling in?'
'Truthfully?' She stared at him for a long second, and then relented again. 'Gradually. Being here has been...quite the transition. Some aspects feel more natural than others. But it's been such a short period of time, with so much crammed into it, that it barely feels real when I stop moving.'
He nodded at her, considering, before he spoke. 'I appreciate your being candid. And I'm not surprised that you're feeling somewhat overwhelmed. The Companions can be an...overwhelming bunch,' he said, sounding fond. 'And it takes time to find one's place among them.' He picked up his goblet and slowly swirled the contents, before lifting it to his nose, sniffing, and taking a sip. Then he eyed her over the rim, and smiled again.
'But I have every confidence that you will find your place.'
His words flustered her, but she nodded anyway. 'Thank you...Kodlak.'
'It's as much an observation as faith.' The older man took another sip of his wine, and then returned it to the table between them. He rested against the back of his chair, loosely crossing his legs at the ankle, and as he had when she'd first met him, he seemed to radiate elegance and poise. 'I was sorry to miss your testing, but heard about it afterwards. If your performance there was any indication, then you certainly have the skills you need to make your mark.'
She stared at him, confused now. Did he mean...?
As if he could hear her confused thoughts, the Harbinger nodded. 'It was Vilkas who informed me. After your testing, he came back to me to report on how you'd fared. He spoke highly of your skill.'
The words gave her a serious shock, that she couldn't hide; her brain didn't want to absorb what Kodlak had said, and she nearly told him as much. Instead, she was quiet for several seconds, before she finally answered in a dubious voice.
'Really?'
There it was again; the twinkling in the Harbinger's stormy grey eyes that could only be described as mischievous. He chuckled, and laced his hands together over his stomach.
'I wouldn't say it otherwise. You seem surprised to hear this, my girl.'
'I...wasn't sure what Vilkas thought, when he tested me,' Merrin hedged. The last thing she wanted to do just then was tell the Harbinger that a member of his Circle seemed to dislike her.
Kodlak didn't seem at all surprised. 'That is Vilkas' way,' he nodded. 'He's a guarded man, quiet and intellectual. His innermost thoughts are often his alone. But he is also honest and fair, and I trust his judgments to be apt when I can't make my own.'
Merrin sat there in silence, staring at the tabletop, unsure of what to say. Kodlak spoke of Vilkas with obvious fondness, and he clearly trusted him. And his words were a close match to what Farkas had said earlier, back in the Bannered Mare; that Vilkas may have been stand-offish, but was really a decent man. She grimaced.
'I will do my best to prove myself to you, as my time with the Companions continues, Kodlak. Thank you for your faith in me.'
He laughed at her words, which she didn't expect, and when she looked back up at him, he was actually grinning at her.
'You young ones are all the same,' he mused warmly. 'Deferring where you oughtn't defer. But I'm sure you'll understand in time. It isn't me that you should strive to prove yourself to – it's yourselves. A Harbinger is only meant to provide guidance. I am not who you answer to.'
She faltered – was that not precisely what she'd been doing for the past four years? Proving herself, to herself? Wasn't that the force that drove her out of the Bannered Mare and through the front doors of Jorrvaskr? Or was this something else entirely? What was she trying to prove – and to whom? Suddenly, she wasn't sure.
Her wondering was interrupted by the mellow timber of Kodlak's voice.
'There is another question I would ask you, girl.'
'You can ask whatever you'd like.'
He was looking pensive again, eyeing her over the rim of his wine goblet. 'What is it that made you seek us out? Why have you sought to become a Companion?'
He hadn't asked her when she'd approached him initially, but she wasn't really surprised that he was asking now; Kodlak was obviously a philosophical man. She decided to answer him honestly.
'I've always wanted to be one. For almost as long as I can remember. I spent years of my life occupied with different things...but now my path has led me here, and I'm glad of it. Being a Companion would be fulfilling a dream, for me.'
This answer seemed to satisfy Kodlak; he nodded, and stroked his beard thoughtfully.
'And what path was it that led you here? What of your life before you came to our hall?'
Instantly, she tensed up. She hadn't told anyone about the circumstances that had led her here—Ria and Aela had both asked, and she'd shot them both down. Could she safely do the same with the Harbinger?
'I would...rather not discuss that, Harbinger. If you don't mind,' Merrin said, slowly and firmly.
Again, he didn't seem surprised, but he did look a bit more serious as he went back to swirling his wine.
'Your business is your own – I have no intention of prying. But may I ask why you don't wish to discuss it?'
She sighed. 'Because, it's of a...personal and unsavory nature. That's why.'
Several seconds passed in silence. Then Kodlak put his goblet down. He was eyeing her very carefully now; Merrin didn't know what to expect, and so she eyed him back just as intently.
'I respect your wishes. But there is one thing I'd like to know, now that you're staying with us.'
She remained silent and watchful.
'Are you here because you're in some kind of trouble? Are you being...pursued, or something of that ilk?' Now he seemed a bit chagrined, but he pressed on anyway. 'Have you run afoul of the Hold's authorities?'
Yes. I don't know. And they seem to think so. The answers resounded in her head, but she didn't give any of them voice. Instead, she chose her reply very carefully.
'I won't deny that I've seen trouble in my recent past...and it did contribute to my decision to come here. But I foresee no way that it could impact my time spent among the Companions – and I haven't committed any crime, in this Hold or any other.' On that point, she was making absolutely sure to set the record straight, Empire be damned. She sat tall and straight-backed in the chair, and couldn't keep herself from stubbornly setting her jaw.
At length, Kodlak sighed, and his gaze dropped to the tabletop. 'A shrouded answer. But it reassures me, for now.'
For a moment, there was silence in the study. Then his steely eyes lifted to meet hers, and they were piercing in their intensity as he spoke again – silvery and bright, pinning her gaze.
'And know this, girl. Your time here has been brief so far, but you've proven yourself to be honorable and skilled. You've made the choice to become one of us, and Jorrvaskr's arms are open to you. Whatever the trouble you don't wish to speak of, know that your brothers and sisters in arms will stand beside you and fight as one, should it ever darken this threshold. In this family, no one ever stands alone.'
Family. She hadn't been expecting anything like the Harbinger's words, and they hit her hard. In a flash, she thought of the dream she'd had in the Bannered Mare, of the Companions fighting by her side. She thought of Farkas, sharing his breakfast and making her laugh, of Ria showing her the city and holding her hand and letting her borrow her clothes. Of Torvar saying that they'd be friends, in no time at all.
It had been a long time since she'd felt really welcomed, and to feel it now overwhelmed her. She could barely swallow over the lump of emotion in her throat, and when she answered Kodlak, it was in a whisper.
'...Thank you, Kodlak. You're all...too generous.'
'We've all worked together to build something wonderful,' was his gentle reply. 'But I won't take up anymore of your time, for tonight – I can see I've given you much to think about.' He smiled at her.
'Thank you, for indulging an old man's love of conversation.'
'It was my pleasure,' she answered in a rush. 'Thank you for asking me here.'
Kodlak pushed away from the table, and she followed suit. Then they rose in unison, and he walked her to the door of his study. 'Can I count on the pleasure of speaking with you again?' he asked.
She blinked up at him, surprised. 'Of course. I would like that very much.'
His smile widened, and his eyes twinkled as he chuckled. 'Alright then. Until next time...sleep well, girl.'
She wasn't so sure that she would; as she left Kodlak's study and walked back down the quiet hall, her muscles were aching and her mind was buzzing.
But she would do her best.
