Chapter XXXV - The Skyforge

The rain did not stop. Thunder rumbled ominously in the distance to the west and Fehn gripped her cloak, pulling it tightly around her shoulders.

The Skyforge was an impressive sight to behold and for a good five minutes Fehn stood there in the driving rain gawking. She was so transfixed on the huge stone eagle that she lost her grip on Vilkas' sword,

"Damn!"

She swore, and bent down to retrive the weapon. Fishing the blade out from one of the puddles, Fehn was surprised when a pair of large feet enetered her field of vision. Slowly the Imperial's gaze slid upwards until it met with Eorland Greymane's stern glare. He was a big man, big even for a Nord. With long white hair and a pair of meaty steel-shaping arms. Flashing an innocent smile up at him, Fehn flinched internally when he simply cocked a bushy eyebrow in return,

"Can I help you?"

He grumbled and Fehn got to her feet.

"Uh, yes, here."

She held out Vilkas's sword to the large man, feeling very much like a child presenting a moppet to an elder. Eorland was silent as he plucked the blade from Fehn's hand.

"Hmm, yes. Vilkas mentioned needing his blade sharpened. Come over here by the forge, let me get a look at you."

Fehn watched curiously as the smith took the blade over to the forge and followed along behind him quietly. Craning her neck to get a better look at the magnificent Skyforge, Fehn was agape. The forge's main element was the twenty foot tall stone eagle which sat perched grandly presiding over the shaping of the legendary skyforge steel.

The flames from the forge illuminated the huge stone structure and almost made the titanic structure come alive. Fehn was amazed at the artistery of the forge. She was shaken out of her reverie by Eorland's own appraisal; he was examining her just as closely as she was his forge,

"An Imperial in Skyrim weilding an Orcish blade? What a strange chimera of a girl you are."

Fehn frowned at this description and returned her gaze to the stone eagle,

"Who built this amazing forge? The Companions?"

Eorland Greymane emmited a sharp bark of laughter,

"A fine observation, afterall, the forge overlooks Jorrvaskr. But no, the Companions didn't build the Skyforge - no one knows who built it."

Fhen shrugged and countered carelessly,

"How do you know they didn't build it then?"

An awkward silence engulfed them which was filled only by the resounding raindrops which splattered everywhere. Eorland responded finally with a pert "hmph" and returned to his work.

"Tell Vilkas his blade'll be ready within the day."

Fehn nodded and moved forward towards the forge and absently touched one of the many warhammers that sat on it completed - quite unabashed by Eorland's chilly dismissal, Fehn pondered,

"Does Vilkas make everyone do things for him? Y'know, run errands and stuff?"

With a sigh Eorland brushed past her and moved the hammer she was examining away from her and stoked the fire roughly,

"Nah, just the new blood. Don't worry they were all whelps once - they just might not like to talk about it. Don't just do everything he tells you, no one rules anyone in the Companions. Every man is his own, every woman, her own."

Eorland's gaze was stern as he unfolded his arms and shoved a poker into the flames of the forge - ignoring Fehn. Ignoring his ignorance, fehn watched as the grizzled smith began to hammer steadily on some cherry-red metal. Sparks flew into the moist air and drifted lazily for a moment before dwindling into nothingness. Fehn piped,

"Surely someone leads them? Kodlak?"

Greymane promptly silenced her by throwing the white-hot metal into the water-filled trough and interjected firmly,

"Kodlak is the Harbinger, yes. They listen to him, yes. He rules them, no. Kodlak's a damn good man and deserves anyone's rapt attention. Harbinger or not."

Raising her eyebrows, Fehn blinked away the rain.

"So, no one leads them? That's...curious I suppose."

Eorland smirked and rounded,

"Almost as curious as an Imperial in Skyrim wielding an Orcish blade, am I right? No, but joking aside, it's true; I don't know how they've done it, no leaders since Ysgrammor."

Fehn's wet brow furrowed,

"Ysgrammor?"

She enquired shortly and Eorland threw his gaze up to the eagle for strength and exclaimed,

"By the Nine! I can tell you're Imperial with all these blasted questions!"

Fehn shirked and grinned wolfishly,

"Sorry."

Eorland turned one of his blue eyes on her and cocked an eyebrow.

"No you're not."

He replied knowingly. Fehn cleared her throat and pertly announced,

"Well, nice talking. I should get back."

"Gods be praised!"

Fehn giggled like a girl and waved unabashed, moving away from the Skyforge.

"Wait!"

Fehn turned back with a puzzled expression on her dripping face. Eorland was loping towards her with a beautifully crafted branded shield. Fehn was immdediately flattered and began a speel of declines,

"Oh, I couldn't...I mean I could..."

Eorland's face was stoic,

"What? No! This shield is Aela's, I was repairing it for her."

Fehn's mood sank and she could feel embarrassment bite into her stomach.

"Oh."

Was all she said as Greymane approached her with the shield.

"I'm asking you for a favour, could you go and give this down to Aela? My wife's in mourning right now and I've got to get back to her."

Taking the shield, Fehn's expression was sympathetic.

"Oh, of course...I'm sorry for her loss. I'll make sure Aela gets this."

With a nod of approval, Eorland said shortly,

"Well done."

Fehn watched as the large man made his way down the slopes and into the city of Whiterun. Eying Aela's shield, Fehn couldn't help but wonder if she had failed a test set by Eorland by doing a favour for him when he explicitly told her not to allow herself to be bossed around.

The mead hall of Jorvaskrr was warm and welcoming. A hugle old Nord fire blazed in the centre of the main hall. Surrounding the inferno were many tables ladled tankards of mead and bottles of ale, plates were heaped with sweet meats, venison, beef and steamed vegetables all drizzled with beefy broth and gravy. All the food was hearty and filling.

Sitting at and around the tables were a few of the Companions; Njada Stone-Arm was showing why exactly she got her name and was promptly beating Torvar in an arm-wrestling competition. Farkas was barely keeping track and was draining his tankard, just simply enjoying being idle. Ria and Vilkas were in deep conversation about the pros and cons about duel-wielding blades, of which Ria was for and Vilkas was against.

The only other person in the hall was Tilma the Haggard, an old Nord who tended the hall and kept the place clean. She bustled forward when Fehn enetered the hall with Aela's shield in hand. Fehn smiled a little awkwardly as Tilma eyed her, a twinkle in the old woman's gaze.

"Hello, dear."

She began sweetly,

"You're looking for the Huntress, yes?"

She pryed, nodding to Aela's shield. Fehn's eyes were boulbous, she was so unnerved by the woman. Tilma cackled warmly and swept the floor idly before motioning down the stairs,

"The Huntress is with the Iron Wolf, be careful to knock before you go in, hmm?"

The hag unleashed another rasp of laughter and Fehn thanked her shortly before slipping down to the second floor of Jorvaskrr. As she made her way down the stairs, Fehn found herself hugging Aela's shield close after speaking with Tilma. Old women really seemed creepier in Skyrim as opposed to the old women of Cyrodiil.