A/N: Salut, all.

Chapter Ten

23rd of Second Seed, 4E 201

It wasn't that often that Za'phriel met someone who could best her in a sword match. While the Bosmer were indeed much lighter than other races - her kind ran around in treetops, for crying out loud - and were more suited for the bow, they could be very good with other weapons, her own father had preferred a battleaxe. It was even less often that she found herself bested by a human. That Vilkas was a Nord only slightly dimmed her disgust with herself. But here she was in the courtyard behind Jorrvasker, hands on her thighs as she tried to get as much air in her lungs as possible. It should be forbidden to wear that much armor, and she wasn't used to not fighting to the death, it was how she had been taught. The hard part was trying to not actually hurt him, which was harder than actual fighting. She regretted having ever thought that the Companions were the place for her.

"Come on, elf, you couldn't hurt me." Bosmer, Wood Elf, whichever you prefer, She thought to herself, glaring at the Nord's taunts. but do not use the generic term, if you must, call me a mer. And did you just say I can't hurt you? Oh, no, mate, I could very much so hurt you, if I weren't so trying to not hurt you.

That thought confused even her, she narrowed her eyes and picked up her greatsword. Thinking back on it now, she really should have chosen her shortswords, or her dirks, or maybe her longsword. But no, she had decided on a greatsword, she couldn't block worth anything with it, it was so cursed heavy. Well, she would just have to make do, like she always made do. Hefting the heavy blade up, Za'phriel assumed a ready stance while the Nord glared at her, his thoughts clear in his expression. Of course if the Nord hadn't been glaring at her, he would have seen that she held herself differently. His taunts had worked, she no longer cared if she hurt him, after all, hadn't he told her she couldn't hurt him before they had started?

She moved forward with a simple strike, testing his defenses as if she hadn't been fighting him before. He blocked it easily and almost threw her off balance. With an angry huff, she adjusted her grip to farther up on the blade and changed her fighting style.

There were four fighting styles that she used primarily. The aggressive Mammoth, a style that favors hard hits to daze its opponents, much like a real mammoth does, and taking hits on your armor. Then the quick Mudcrab - she had no idea why they were all name for animals - with light jabs meant to wear down your opponent, she only ever used it when she knew she was stronger than her opponent. The mauling Bear, that required that the attacker be heavier than the defender, she didn't ever use it because she didn't have the weight on her to use it. And her favorite, the Wolf. The Wolf darted in and hacked a few times before darting out, before her opponent would even know that she was there, this style mostly used feints, to keep her opponent guessing. The style could be used in any situation, against any enemy, and she had always come out triumphant. There were more styles out there in the world, but she knew all that she needed to know with these four, she did sometimes mix in styles that weren't named after animals, but that was very rare.

Za'phriel darted at him and swung her blade as if for an upper body strike, which he moved to block, before switching to strike his leg. Her blade clanged against his armor and the shock reverberated up her arm, she was use to it by now. Vilkas was knocked off balance, and since he wasn't a Bosmer couldn't catch his balance like she could. He was up on his feet in an instance though, blocking her next strike, or at least, blocking where he thought her next strike would be. Sticking to true Wolf fighting, she didn't go for the obvious attack, instead Za'phriel slipped around him while he was getting up and swung at his side as he was turning. Fortunately for her, she had swung at the side that he wasn't holding his blade with, otherwise he would have been easily able to block it.

Her hit came as an entire surprise to both Za'phriel and Vilkas. She pressed her advantage and struck with a flurry of blows, too fast for him to block them all. When it looked like he was catching on to her pattern, she jumped back, blocking sloppily. Vilkas - and indeed the Companions that had come to watch - looked at her in a new light, before they had all been bored with it. She saw septims pass hands and a betting pool soon sat on a small table. Concentrating back on her opponent, she managed to somehow block an overhead blow and duck under his hand as he did something she had never seen before. She would need to change her style soon, he was catching on far quicker than other Nords had.

Za'phriel stood tall and changed from the crouching Wolf, to the proud Mammoth. Her armor was well made, it would be able to take the hits. She knew that she had thrown Vilkas off with the new stance, he was warily circling her while she turned to meet him. Several cheers were made from the Companions watching, some for Vilkas, some for 'The Wood Elf'. She grinned ferally and 'waded' into battle. Za'phriel swung with all her strength overhead, breaking through his block and staggering him. She followed up with a switch to fighting like a bear - even though Vilkas was heavier - and hit him on either side. She brought him to his knees. Rather than staying close to him, she paced back a few steps, she knew several styles with several moves that required that the attacker be on the ground to use them.

Vilkas stood and sheathed his blade on his back, a yield. Za'phriel did the same but warily stayed away from him, it wouldn't do credit to her father's name to be bested by a sore loser.

"I haven't been almost bested in a long time," Almost? I won against you, mate, fair and square, and I nearly cut your head off in the process. "I suppose you're good enough to be in our ranks. But you're just a new blood. Here," He handed her his sword, which had several nicks in it from their fight, she imagined hers did too. "take this up to Eorlund, and be careful, its worth more than you are."

Huh, she had yet to meet any blade that was worth a hundred thousand septims, her family fortune, of which she was the heir. She didn't mention it and merely nodded and took the steel. In her own opinion, elven weapons, or rather Bosmer weapons, were more affective than even Skyforge Steel, which she had used before. Bosmer weapons weren't made like Altmer weapons, the golden ones made of moonstone. Instead, Bosmer weapons were made from a metal found only in Valenwood, and even the Altmer - their 'allies' - didn't know about it. The raw ore had to be melted at an extremely high heat for a long time before it even could be used. Then it was made by the best blacksmith they had while other elves enchanted it while it still glowed with heat. The blades were always made with specific people in mind, and they were always made to look different, in a simple way. Her blades had runes down the side declaring who she was, she had more sharp pointy objects than most people. The downside was that they looked no stronger than an iron weapon, however they were hard to nick, and easy to repair.

Whilst Za'phriel had been thinking about her blade, which was definitely worth more than she was, she had made it up to the Skyforge. Eorlund was working the grindstone, its rasp hurting her ears. To her, the Skyforge was nothing special, her own people had a hidden, underground forge - where they worked their metal - that was not only bigger, but hotter, and more impressive looking. But she would never mention it to the Nords, they were a might touchy on the subject. She tapped Eorlund gently on the grindstone to get his attention. As he turned, she leaned Vilkas' blade against the small wall close to him.

"Vilkas wanted me to take this to you." She told him quietly, checking quickly to make sure that the steel wasn't about to fall down and slice her booted foot off.

"Ah, so you're the new blood." He stood from his grindstone and wiped his sweaty hands on a strip of cloth he had stuck in his belt. He held a hand out for her to shake and she took it.

"I watched you beat on Vilkas, haven't seen fighting like that in years. Ever since I met a Wood Elf like you when I was but a lad. But, I mustn't dwell on the past. A bit of advice, don't take anything they say personally, we haven't had a new blood in a while. Don't let them push you around."

She nodded hesitantly and turned to go, a breeze lifted the black hair that wasn't in a braid and trailed it along her neck, it dried the sweat on her skin and cooled her a bit, she welcomed it and stood still a moment, enjoying the sunshine and breeze. The grindstone started up behind her and the rasp of a blade being sharpened filled the air around the Skyforge, it was actually rather welcome. She fingered her blade and looked back at the forge, surely it would have the items she needed. Za'phriel stood there debating on whether she should go back to the Bannered Mare and get her supplies, or ask Eorlund if he had what she would need. Deciding that she might as well ask, she walked back over and tapped Eorlund on the shoulder again, she had to admit, he was a very patient man.

"Do you, perhaps, have a whetstone?" She asked as politely as she could, talking was not her strong suit.

"I'm a blacksmith of course I have a whetstone." He didn't say it as gruffly as it came out, and she was getting used to the deep voices of men, so she wasn't as easily offended as she would have been a week ago, had it only been a week? So much had happened it felt like eons. She dug in her coinpurse for a few septims while he dug in a bag at his side for a whetstone. He accepted the coins without remark, and with a quick word of thanks she sat on the wall, drawing her blade out and laying it across her knees.

Fixing the nicks took longer than normal, Za'phriel couldn't keep her eyes off the beautiful landscape around her. Her vantage point was amazing, she could see not only almost all of Whiterun, but most of the country around it. She ran the whetstone down her blade and looked around again, taking a deep breath of the crisp, clean air. This place wasn't as warm as Valenwood, but it was refreshing to be away from migratory trees.

A/N: Note: I know nothing about actual swordplay, everything I write I've either read somewhere else, seen in a movie, or heard about. So, if anyone who reads this takes fencing or anything like that and is like 'She got it all wrong' yeah... Artistic License, and a fantasy world.

On another note: Sorry about the lateness, I had no ideas for this, so I sat down this fine Saturday morning and wrote it in like... eh... a couple hours.

Oh, and I just noticed that all my characters are female... (Well, not just noticed...) Sorry 'bout that, this is the way I made my characters, and I don't usually play guys.

EDIT 3/8/12: Fixed a few mistakes.