By the time the two reemerged from Dustman's Cairn, weary and bloodied, dawn's rosy fingers were beginning to extend above the horizon. As soon as they closed the door to the barrow, Siri flopped down onto the stone floor of the pit. Farkas sat down beside her, resting his back against a barrel.
"We probably shouldn't rest long," he said. Siri grunted unhappily, rolling over onto her stomach. She rested her chin on the ground and looked up at Farkas.
"Gods, you're an absurdly large person," she said. He laughed.
"You're on the ground. Of course I look bigger from down there."
"I suppose we should go back," she said, looking up at the sky. Standing up, she looked down at her armor and exhaled sharply. Her armor, made only from leather, was beaten badly and shredded in some places from the axes of the Draugr—so badly so that she wondered if she should just make a new set when she returned to Whiterun.
"Your armor looks bad," said Farkas with a frown. "Why don't you use metal? It doesn't get messed up like that."
"Well," she said, smiling sweetly at her companion, "unlike some people, I would rather not have to contend with so much weight. I'm sure it's easy enough for you," she said. "But for smaller people like me, heavy armor can be a problem." Farkas shook his head with a smile.
"You're odd," he said. "Light armor…a little tiny axe…Vilkas uses a little sword, too. But I like the big swords. Big swords do more damage." Siri smiled. Farkas saw the world with charming simplicity, and it was refreshing.
Siri threw her arm around Farkas's shoulder, glad to have this Companion as a friend. "Shall we head on our way, O Immense One?" Then, without waiting for an answer, she extended a hand to help him up.
"Okay, friend. Lead the way."
The trip back to Whiterun seemed to pass much more quickly than the trip from the city; Siri and Farkas had spent the time chatting about anything and everything—Siri even told him about her escape from Helgen, and about discovering she was Dragonborn. Farkas, unlike the other Companions, seemed unfazed by the information.
"Sounds like you have a lot on your plate," he said simply, and left it there.
When they finally reached Jorrvaskr, Siri was nonplussed to see Vilkas waiting before the great doors. Waiting for her.
She approached, and immediately his face contorted into a sneer.
"Do you always allow your armor to be torn to pieces in the wilderness, whelp?" he asked scathingly. Farkas stepped forward.
"Brother, we had to fight about fifty Draugr before we could get the piece of Wuuthrad," he said. He clapped his hand to Siri's back, causing her to stumble forward a little bit. She quickly regained her balance; Farkas didn't seem to have noticed, but Vilkas certainly had—too much further forward and she would have stumbled right into him. "She fights well," Farkas added, smiling at his new friend.
"Well in any case, the Circle is waiting for you in the courtyard." Vilkas turned on his heel and walked swiftly away. Siri looked up at Farkas.
"Is your brother always so unpleasant to the new bloods?" she asked. Farkas's brow was furrowed slightly as he watched his brother walk away.
"Vilkas doesn't like new people," he said. "But he seems to like you less than most."
Siri was a bit taken aback by Farkas's frank appraisal, but she couldn't fault him for it in the least—Vilkas clearly had something against her.
