Wulf and Vilkas were to set out on the day after the Mid-Year celebration, but another bout of bad weather forced them to delay their departure.
Wulfryk looked out of the single window that was not shuttered closed, but widely open in spite of the weather, as he watched the city and the storm that raged over it. It almost seemed as if the weather had held solely for the festival, because afterwards the summer storms, which usually happened in early autumn and signified the end of the summer, had come early and they now they ravaged the plains of Whiterun Hold. A cold wind had picked up speed and become a gale and the air was leaden with energy that was discharged whenever bolts of lightning flashed, followed by thunderous booms. Rain and hail poured down from the skies and due to the tundra being a flatland, travelling was now entirely impossible.
Wulf did not mind that the assignment he and Vilkas should have set out for almost a week ago had to be postponed. He was content to sit by the window and observe the countryside, for there was nothing like watching the forces of nature, that some called the 'wrath of the gods', unleash their destructive powers upon the land, whilst oneself was in a safe place.
Besides, he was in no hurry to be alone with Vilkas. They had come to a truce after Mid-Year, however whether the peace would last was uncertain at best, as they were not exactly friends or enemies, but allies by force and rivals by choice and maybe nature.
At least the big Nord was nowhere in sight and Farkas had told Wulf in a slightly accusing voice that his brother had barricaded himself in his room and spent his days with his favourite pastime besides weapons training: reading. The other Companions all spent the time in a comatose state, induced by either boredom or copious amounts of alcoholic beverages. Wulf secretly enjoyed the break, not that he would dare to admit it to his shield-siblings. It was nice that for once absolutely nothing was going on.
"You blinked four times in the past five minutes", a deep voice suddenly spoke up. "And that's the most interesting thing that's happened in the last hour."
Wulf turned away from the window to look at Farkas, who was sitting draped across a bench, his head pillowed on his arms.
"I almost wish Nelkir'd take off again", Farkas grumbled and Wulf snorted in answer. He knew the warrior, effectively penned inside by the weather, was itching for some action, but with hail the size of chickens' eggs still falling an emergency rescue would be less fun than it sounded. It had been hell a week ago when the Jarl's son had failed to return home by nightfall and they had all helped the guard find the little blighter. Who did not want to be found and cursed then when, two days later and with the storms as good as upon them, they dragged him back two to his father all the way from Chillfurrow.
Tilma tsked in the corner. "Don't you say that", the old woman chided and Farkas huffed, stirring up a small cloud of dust.
To stop them from going stir-crazy the Companions had converted the main hall into a training ring which was tricky, because the combatants had to circle the big open fireplace. But the fights had made a terrible din and led to much of the furniture being smashed and Tilma had finally put a stop to them by threatening to leave. And without the old lady to cook and clean the Companions would not last two days. So now Tilma was sitting in a corner and knitting, her needles clicking softly from time to time while she happily hummed and everybody else was dying from the monotony.
Now though the old woman looked up from her work and sighed heavily, a sure sign that she was going to launch into a lengthy sermon. "I wonder what happened. I know they must miss their mother, but Margit died years ago and the troubles just started this year. Oh, Dagny's always been a little princess, but even Gerda says Nelkir used to be such a sweet boy. Poor Balgruuf, it must be getting too much for him. The man is working so hard to run the hold and keep Whiterun out of the war and with the city's clans at each other's throats and three children to look after all on his own at that. No wonder he is wearing himself out." Tilma nodded, happy to have voiced her opinion and, with nobody willing to contradict her, resumed her knitting.
"He should spend more time disciplining his brats and less trying to talk sense into Vignar and Olfrid", Farkas muttered quietly enough that neither Tilma nor any other Companion would not hear it. "If Kodlak couldn't do it, it's not possible."
Knowing what he did of the old man, Vignar's skull was about as thick as a mammoth's, albeit with less space for brains. Wulf agreed with his friend wholeheartedly; the Jarl's brood was spoiled and rude and had become one of the city's favourite source of gossip and complaint, especially Balgruuf's youngest and most troublesome offspring.
Wulf smirked and nodded, not saying anything and looked outside as a particularly bright flash of lightening made the silhouette of the city stand out harshly.
"How can you stand it?", Farkas enquired, changing the topic and shifting once again.
"I like it", Wulfryk said softly.
Farkas only shook his head. "You are mad", the big warrior concluded "You and my brother both."
"If you're so very bored, why don't you go talk to him?", Wulf suggested.
"Are you joking? The last time I interrupted his reading, he tossed a chair at me", the big warrior whined.
Wulf chuckled in answer. "We wouldn't want that, would we? Best leave him be, then."
"You don't have anything to worry about", Farkas grumbled. "He likes you."
"Eh, what?" Wulf wasn't sure he had hear right.
But Farkas just shrugged his shoulders and repeated "Vilkas really likes you, you know?"
What did one say to that? "I'm sure he likes you a whole lot more than he does me and if Grumpy's throwing furniture at you, I'm staying the hell away."
There was something unreadable in Farkas' eyes, but the big Nord did not comment further. Instead he complained once more "I'm bored."
Wulf couldn't let his friend suffer like that. "How about a game of Cutthroat Hearts, Bright? I can teach you how to cheat so next time you can win against Athis", the Nord offered. Farkas was terrible at card and dice games, but by now they were both sick of Tafl and so the Companion agreed readily, even if it meant losing to his friend seven times in a row. The practice paid off though and later that evening Wulfryk had the satisfaction of seeing Farkas beat Ria, Njada and Torvar handily, if only because Wulf slipped him cards when nobody was looking.
Torvar and Ria seemed happy that for once their shield-brother had won, but Wallface was glowering at Wulf darkly, who was trying and failing to hide his grin behind a mug of ale. Before accusations were flung, their round was disrupted by Kodlak and Skjor entering. They had been to the Temple and had good news: Danica had assured them that the weather was changing once again and the storms were at an end. How the head priestess knew nobody could tell, but then again Kynareth was the goddess of the skies, the winds and the elements. A cheer rose up to the announcement and Ria invited the men to join their game. Skjor refused, but Kodlak allowed himself to be dragged in and with quite a bit of help on Wulf's side, Farkas cheated the old man out of a pouch of coins. Laughing at the stunned faces of their fellow Companions and at Kodlak who was scratching his head in confusion, the two schemers left before anybody would get suspicious.
Wulfryk went to sleep late and woke early when a clamour made him sit up and rub his eyes groggily. It took him a good while to recognise the sound for what it was: the muted clash of swords. It had been a while since he had last heard the ring of steel and Wulf knew it meant that the storm was over at last. He dressed slowly and got up, shuffling out of the dormitory and up the steps. He had not been mistaken. In the courtyard Farkas, Skjor, Aela, Torvar and Njada were going up against each other in a lively fight that resembled a miniature battle.
Dark clouds hung overhead, but the wind had died down and smell of snow was no longer on the air, even though there was a white, powdery blanket covering the countryside. It was too early for snow and it would melt soon, but summer was now definitely over and autumn had come.
Amongst the spectators watching Farkas beat his shield-siblings, this time without the need of Wulf's aid, was the man's twin. Vilkas caught Wulfryk's eye and walked over. "Have you packed?", he asked Wulf without preamble.
Wulfryk shook his head, but replied "It won't take long."
Vilkas nodded and resumed "We will wait until midday to see if the weather holds. If so, we set out immediately. The storms have cost us far too much time as it is."
"Understood", Wulf agreed. Their short conversation was awkward and courteous, as both were weary of striking up another argument. Vilkas turned at the heel and Wulf sighed heavily at the warrior's retreating back. So the laziness was over and it was time to pick up the sword once more. He would have to check his gear, although he was pretty certain that it was in a pristine condition. He went back inside to eat a hurried breakfast and to pack. Wulfryk was glad to have new winter clothes, as he had little doubt that from now on the nights would be bitter cold. He chose to leave behind his own small tent as the Companions' equipment was much better and then he was off, running about a few last-minute errands.
Wulf was just returning from Arcadia, having bought healing potions and a few ingredients that might come in handy and upon entering the mead hall he found Vilkas sitting next to the entrance, a heavy pack at the Nord's feet. "Are you ready?", the warrior asked.
"Yeah", Wulf said and went downstairs to retrieve his own backpack.
And then there was nothing more to do and he found himself taking leave from Farkas, Aela and his other friends all too soon. Theirs was the first mission and Wulf waved goodbye once more before he followed his fellow traveller through Whiterun and out, towards the stables. Skulvar readied their horses although the stable master was concerned because the animals had spent so much time locked in. Indeed, Wulf's horse burst out of its box in a wild gallop and continued to canter around him in a tight circle due to its rider keeping a tight grip on the reins and even Vilkas' favourite and usually quite placid mare was frisky and nervous. They mounted up carefully and settled for a brisk trot until after a few miles their horses were breathing heavily and had calmed somewhat down, now that they were able to work off their excess energy. They did not risk a gallop on the first day though and Wulf, who rode in the lead, watched the countryside pass by slowly.
Their destination was a, as far as Wulfryk knew, nameless fort at the very feet of the Anthor mountains. They took the main road north and the first leg of their journey would lead them through the Whitewatch Tower that stood on the very boarder to the Pale. They would continue northwards and slightly to the east and leave the road where it split, one branch leading towards Windhelm, the other to Dawnstar. On horseback the travel should not take them much longer than a week, if they managed to keep up a pace of thirty miles per day.
One week with nothing to do but to listen to the uneasy silence that stretched between. Splendid. Wulf needed this journey like he needed a mace to the head, especially now that he could feel Vilkas' gaze drilling into his back. He shifted uncomfortably in the saddle. If the Companion still wanted to get rid of him, now was the perfect opportunity. Out in the wilds where nobody watched anything could be passed off as an accident. That was how Wulf would have done it, although he did not think that Vilkas was this cold blooded. The man was a killer certainly, but no murderer. It was only a small consolation, because now the spot between his shoulder blades had begun to itch and he had to clench his hands on the reins to prevent himself from scratching, knowing that it would not help anyways.
When it began to rain Wulfryk happily pulled up his hood, feeling like he was hiding and not caring in the least. He listened to the rhythmic clap of his horse's hooves and let his thoughts wander. It had been a year since he had left Elsweyr. He missed the smell of the sea and the hot, sunny weather. He missed the people he had come to know, his friends. He wondered whether Ralof was in Windhelm now, drinking and laughing with his fellow soldiers. He had sent the Stormcloak a booklet for Mid-Year and though his friend was illiterate, there were plenty of sketches involving General Tulluis, Jarl Elisif and the Thalmor that did not leave much to the imagination.
Thus hours and miles passed and when dusk settled they pulled off the road and into a grove of a few bushes and small twisted trees; but little shelter was better than none and it had the advantage that here they could tie off the horses. Wulf jumped from the saddle and winced from the jarring impact with the hard ground. He stretched his legs, but refrained from massaging his aching backside. Vilkas followed suit and while Wulf held the reins he unburdened the animals from their saddles and packs.
"How about I water the horses, hm?", Wulf offered when the other Nord was done. They worked separately, each pretending to be too busy with his task to notice how uncomfortable the entire situation was.
Half an hour later they had raised the tent and had a fire going and Wulf was poking at it with a stick.
"We made good time today", Vilkas spoke up hesitantly. "We should reach the Whitewatch tomorrow."
"Mhm", Wulf grunted. It did not feel like enough, so he decided to put some effort into it and added "Be nice to have a roof over the head."
Vilkas nodded in agreement and the conversation died after that.
They were sitting at an odd angle, as being opposite of each other would mean that they would have to look at one another. But neither were they side by side, keeping a careful distance as they warmed their meal over the fire. They ate in silence and Wulf refilled their water canteens from a small brook that trickled nearby. He rejoined Vilkas by the fire for a little while, but the tension was hardly pleasant and thus Wulfryk feigned tiredness and decided to turn in early. He got up, wishing the other Nord a 'Good Night', that the warrior returned politely and walked up to their tent, stopping dead in his tracks when he reached it.
Their tent. Their small tent. They were both big Nord, and it would be very...close. Wulf's mind shied away from the term 'intimate'. He had completely forgotten about their sleeping arrangements, or maybe he had repressed it. Wulf borrowed Ralof's favourite phrase and cursed "Talos' balls!"
"What's wrong?", Vilkas asked above the crackling of their fire.
How had he overheard his muttered curse? "I like to sleep naked", Wulf replied without thinking and upon looking back he swore he saw Vilkas' jaw drop and the bowl the warrior was holding in his hands tilt dangerously. It was the truth, and quite out of the question. Because of the cold, Wulf told himself. He settled for pants and a light, sleeveless shirt as sleeping clothes and crawled into his bedroll, using his pack as a pillow and his fur mantle as a second cover. But try as he might, his mind would not shut down and sleep never came. About an hour later Vilkas entered their tent and lay down as far from Wulfryk as possible, very careful not to touch, although he hadn't had any such inhibitions when they had fought. It had to be something else then, that Wulf pondered while he pretended to be asleep, knowing full well that the Companion saw through his act. But it made things easier, if only a little bit and now for once they had an excuse not to talk to each other.
He must have fallen asleep after all, because Wulf woke up at first light after a rather restless night and got up, although he never rose that early. He relieved himself behind a bush and busied himself watering the horses again and stroking the fire back to life. By the time he was done Vilkas was up as well and it only took Wulf one look at his bloodshot eyes to know he wasn't the only one whom sleep had escaped.
Still, he asked out of courtesy "Slept well?"
The Companion glowered at the ground for a moment before giving a curt nod.
"Yeah, me too", Wulf grumbled and he wasn't entirely sure why he was keeping up the facade. If he toppled out of his saddle today, it would reveal his poor lie. Vilkas was pacing back and forth, eager to be off as well. He seemed to be on edge for some reason.
They ate, tore down their camp and set out once more, the day passing in much the same way as the first had done. By the end of it Wulf was close to throwing what Ralof would undoubtedly have called a 'hissy fit'. He could feel Vilkas' eyes follow his every movement. He came close to stopping his horse several times and shouting, or at least demanding what the warrior was unhappy about this time, but whenever he turned back the Companion had a look of thoughtfulness rather than one of distrust or even dislike. Maybe he was suffering under the awkwardness as well, but there was nothing Wulf could do to ease the tension. It was not like they had any common ground. A few times he imagined that he had heard the big warrior draw in a deep breath, not quite a sigh, but maybe an attempt to strike up a conversation. Whatever it was, it seemed to weigh heavily on the Companion's mind, and he never got it out, snapping his mouth closed every time. Wulfryk imagined he could hear the man's teeth grind together. He felt relief wash over him as the Tower of Whitewatch finally came into view.
The guardsmen welcomed them with the respect that was due to the Companions and they got a warm meal and two separate, if small rooms. It was obvious that the commanding officer and his second had moved out themselves to sleep with their men. Wulf settled for the night early, fully intending to make up for lost sleep. He stared up at the ceiling for a while, wondering how this little adventure was going to end.
Another day of travel would await them tomorrow. Joy of joys. Wulf couldn't wait for this journey to be over. At last he got a good nights' rest, unknowing that in the next room, Vilkas was wide awake, listening to the howling that was entirely in his head.
AN: Tafl are medieval Skandinavian board games.