Chapter Thirty-Four

The Gildergreen was dying. People stood around the tree, anxiously murmuring to one another, when I emerged from Jorrvaskr.

I sensed immediately that something was up; even the Jarl was outside. Heading down the stone steps towards the Gildergreen, I went over to him and asked, "What's going on?"

Jarl Igvund turned to me, didn't look surprised, and said, "The Gildergreen. It's losing leaves."

I glanced up at the tree. I had been around Whiterun long enough to know that the Gildergreen never lost leaves. Not even in the fall, which it currently was, being the twelfth of Frost Fall. For a moment, I thought that everyone had to be mistaken. But there was no mistaking the absence of leaves, unusual patches in the mass of red.

It wasn't even red now, I realized. The leaves were fading to a dull browny-red, a faded crimson. The bark wasn't quite as brown as before.

"Do you know what's happening to it?" I asked Jarl Igvund.

He shrugged. "The chief priestess Danica Pure-Spring thinks that the tree isn't dying, but it's losing its essence." He paused as a breeze suddenly whisked across Whiterun, and suddenly the chatter ceased, as the wind rattled the tree's branches. I shivered as I realized it didn't quite sound like Kynareth's murmurings anymore. It just sounded like branches knocking against branches, like any tree.

Jarl Igvund sighed. "The Gildergreen is dying. It's reached the end of its life, if you ask me."

"Maybe it's just shedding leaves," I said, slightly sarcastically, as we both knew it never would. "What does Danica intend to do about it?"

"Nothing. She doesn't know how to repair the tree."

I sighed. "Pity. It was quite nice to sit under and listen to for a while. Kynareth helped me quite a lot with whatever grievances I had churning in my mind."

Jarl Igvund nodded. He glanced at me. "How long have you been with the Companions now?"

"Seven years," I replied, looking back at the tree. Nearly one year to this day, we had found the Fragment of Wuuthrad. I glanced at Jarl Igvund. He was starting to grow aged, streaks of white growing more prominent amidst his hair. It wouldn't be long before his heir Balgruuf took the throne; but the young man was currently away with the Legion, apparently somewhere in Morrowind. Vaguely I wondered where they were headed, and if they would run into Ornith somewhere. We all missed the Dunmer and his advice, which was often as invaluable as Kodlak's.

"You've come quite far," the Jarl noted.

I nodded. "Farther than most. I'm a member of the Circle." And a daughter of the moon. And of Hircine.

"You know..." Jarl Igvund said, frowning, "my men report hearing odd animal noises at night."

My heart leapt into my throat, but I forced it impatiently down and said, "Explain."

"Kind of like howling, often quite loud around the eastern side of Whiterun, only some miles south of Loreius Farm," the Jarl explained. "I think a pack of wolves have been roaming the area. We've been hearing it for a few years now, but I've had no trouble so far from these wolves; by trouble, I mean attacking people and livestock. But perhaps...?"

"We'll take care of it," I assured the Jarl easily. Skjor had taught me how to easily lie about any suspicions people had about the howling that the townspeople often heard in the nights, knowing that the honour of the Companions would keep the true secret well-concealed. "I'll let Kodlak know. He'll get a couple of people onto the matter as soon as we can spare them."

"Ah, yes...I had heard that you were quite low on whelps at the moment," Jarl Igvund commented thoughtfully. "Have you heard that those two Gray-Mane boys, what're their names, intend to join the Companions?"

"You mean Avulstein and Thorald, I guess," I said. "If they do decide to join, we'd welcome them."

Jarl Igvund nodded, and turned his gaze back to the Gildergreen. I guessed that I was informally dismissed, so I took my leave, heading back up to Jorrvaskr.

As I headed inside, I immediately smelt the stench of blood. "Who's hurt?" I asked sharply, striding towards Skjor, who was standing near the fire.

He turned quickly and met my gaze. "Nothing too serious," he replied easily. "Dasha and Patros just got a little enthused during training and had to go and tend to their wounds in their rooms for a moment."

I frowned, looking into his eye, to see the panic dwelling within. "You're lying to me," I said, softly, so that Farkas and Vilkas, who were standing admiring the Fragments of Wuuthrad above the doorway to the undercroft, couldn't hear. "At least, you're not telling the whole truth. What's happened? Where is everyone?"

Softly, Skjor sighed. "Orgmund," he breathed.

"Oh, no...he didn't, did he?"

"Not in front of them. He got to the Underforge, just in time." Skjor narrowed his eyes. "The Circle's with him now. He can't control himself. He can't control the wolf."

Shit. It's happening. Quickly I walked around the fire and Skjor immediately caught up to me, and walked beside me, muttering, "It's not safe, Aela. He attacks anything with two legs."

"I've been through worse." I pushed open the back doors to Jorrvaskr and stepped into the training yard.

Quickly we walked across the brightly-lit cobblestones and slipped unobtrusively into the Underforge. The moment that the heavy doors grated shut behind us, I heard a low snarl, accompanied by a moan of pain, echo through the gloom, and two eyes – one bronze and one sharp green – suddenly flash out of the shadows near the blood altar.

"Get back..." The words were horribly distorted, as at first Orgmund's voice broke through, and then the wolf's.

"Shor's bones, Orgmund, what's going on?" I demanded. What's happening to you?

"Aela!" I heard Kodlak's voice echo suddenly out from the shadows, and my Harbinger emerged, already transformed, placing himself between Orgmund and me. "Get back," my Harbinger growled. "You're not safe here."

"I'm safe anywhere," I snapped irritably in response. "I don't need anyone looking out for me, thanks. Where's everyone else?"

Two pairs of bronze eyes appeared. So Samiith and Lemaat were transformed as well.

Suddenly I heard a ferocious snarl, echoed by a faint cry of "No!" And suddenly Kodlak whirled around, rising to meet...

I could only describe it to be Orgmund. But he looked nothing like him. He was only half-transformed, one side of him black as night with grey skin and thick black fur, the other side of him only beginning to turn grey and black. He was struggling heavily against the transformation. But the part of him that was transformed was heavily savage, and he attacked Kodlak with frightening strength.

But my Harbinger was stronger. With a bark in response, Kodlak hurled himself at Orgmund, throwing the half-Nord half-beast to the ground. I heard the melancholy growls die into whimpering from Orgmund, and I saw the grayness in his skin die down a little.

"He's turning feral, isn't he?" I asked quietly, glancing at Skjor.

Skjor nodded. "It won't be long now. Orgmund's been His Hound for over three decades. The beastblood is growing more powerful within him. But what I don't understand is why. Why is Hircine doing this to Orgmund? He's been nothing but a faithful and devout follower of the Huntsman for all that time."

"I...I need to hunt, need to kill, need to feed!" Orgmund's distorted voice, twisted in the ways of the wolf, rang around the room. Kodlak flattened his ears, taking a pace back.

"Whatever happens, we keep him in the Underforge," he growled. "Secure the other exit, Samiith."

I glanced at Samiith. I had never closely seen the Argonian in his wolf form before, and for a moment, I wondered ludicrously how that was even possible. Now I saw Samiith transformed, his wolf unleashed, and I immediately realized I'd be able to tell this werewolf apart from most. His tail was very long, and his body lean, the legs long and slender. Instead of gray skin, he had gray scales, which glittered strangely in the halflight. His bronze eyes were narrowed, with slim, vertical pupils right in the centre, and he was earless, his snout narrower than most other wolves' snouts, his claws particularly long and savage-looking. Though I knew Samiith wouldn't be the strongest werewolf in battle, he would be the most agile. The werewolf Argonian crouched before the hidden exit that led to an opening, engraved in the city's walls, where we would instantly enter wilderness when we transformed in the Underforge. Lemaat, his grey skin beneath the dark fur a touch brown, stood near Samiith, curling back his lips at Orgmund to reveal long teeth.

Orgmund's form shivered. I saw him stiffen for a moment, relax, the greyness in his skin coming back in greater colour. I knew he was trying to fight the beast. But then I saw the wild gleam return to Orgmund's eyes, and suddenly, the green eye vanished, melting smoothly into a bronze colour, the body changing. He had lost. He had succumbed.

"Hunt...must hunt..." growled the wolf as he lunged at me and Skjor.

My Harbinger threw himself in our way, crashing against Orgmund, throwing him back with a pained yelp; Orgmund had managed to close his fangs around Kodlak's forefoot and ripped a small gash through the fur. Orgmund, now fully transformed, slumped against the altar and snarled. Immediately Lemaat pounced on Orgmund, but by now the werewolf was very formidable in strength. With a swift twist, he had thrown Lemaat off him, and with a stunning blow, sent the Redguard sprawling against the wall with a soft whimper of pain.

"Stop this, Orgmund!" I shouted, almost angrily, as Orgmund's malevolent and completely senseless bronze eyes fixed themselves on Samiith. "Hircine will be angry with you."

Orgmund whipped around, and I heard the wolf rasp, Hircine...my master...my lord...we must hunt, we must hunt in his name! Hunt the daughter of the moon!

Bloodlust raged in his eyes. He leapt. Kodlak, with a roar, rose to meet him, but his wounded paw suddenly let him down. He stumbled, and Orgmund slashed his claws across Kodlak's face, narrowly missing the eye, and blood suddenly splattered over the stone ground.

"Kodlak!" I cried in alarm.

Orgmund turned his gaze towards me, and then suddenly I heard a low growl from beside me. Skjor, fully transformed, without even me noticing, hurled himself at the wild Companion, as Kodlak fell back, one paw shielding his face protectively. I watched as Skjor snapped his fangs at Orgmund's ear, his claws ripping into the fur, but not striking skin. Orgmund growled, a deep menacing growl, and lunged at Skjor, claws ripping into Skjor's black fur, fangs leaning for the throat.

Gods, he was going to kill him! Orgmund was completely insane!

I didn't think for a moment. I drew my bow. I knocked an arrow. I let it fly, straight into Orgmund's shoulder. The werewolf let out a small yelp of surprise and scrambled off Skjor, who had been pressed onto his back. Immediately Skjor leapt to his paws and threw himself against Orgmund, who gladly rose to meet the challenge. Their wild cries echoed around the Underforge.

The speed at which both fought – Skjor and Orgmund – was incredible. I soon couldn't tell who was who, until they stopped, and I saw Skjor's cloudy eye glitter for a moment against his black fur, before he hurled himself once more at Orgmund.

Kill! Kill! I heard Orgmund's corrupted, mindless wolf snarl. With a sweep of his claws, Skjor was knocked onto his back. He yelped in agony as Orgmund's claws plunged into his gut, pinning him there.

"No!" My wild, desperate scream broke through the savage snarling. Orgmund whipped around, but I was already charging, and I had swung my bow with full force against Orgmund's hairy head. I heard the crack as the bow struck the skull. For a moment, I thought that the crack was the bow snapping on impact. But it was the sound of metal slamming into bone, and Orgmund, with a shrill yelp, fell back, scrambling off Skjor. Immediately Samiith was on top of him, and Kodlak, who had nearly recovered, now prowled forward, blood falling thick around his face.

I pulled out an arrow, but Orgmund, with frightening strength, threw Samiith off him, and whipped around to deliver a crippling blow. But Samiith's agility saved him; he simply slipped to the side, and closed his jaws heavily around Orgmund's leg in passing. With a mighty tug, the feral werewolf was thrown onto his side. Samiith hissed, stepping back into place where he guarded the other exit. Orgmund prowled towards Kodlak and where Skjor lay, struggling to rise, blood seeping out from his wounds.

I released my second arrow. It flew true, enhanced by Hircine's token, burying itself this time in Orgmund's side, through the black fur and right through the skin. He howled with pain, falling back long enough for Kodlak to leap at Orgmund.

But we had all underestimated Orgmund's strength. The werewolf rose, slamming claws down onto Kodlak's shoulders and forcing the Harbinger down. With a growl, Orgmund threw himself at Kodlak. The Harbinger howled as the claws slashed against his exposed chest and shoulders, and he was thrown roughly against one of the lesser altars in the Underforge. There was a crack. Then Kodlak slumped, and was still.

No...no! Kodlak!

Orgmund turned his gaze onto me, as though hearing my internal cries. Samiith immediately leapt on Orgmund but almost carelessly the feral werewolf threw the Argonian off him. Samiith landed on his paws and growled, but I knew he wouldn't be a match for Orgmund's frightening strength.

Bring me forward, I heard my wolf whisper. I will serve you and our Lord fittingly. Kill the traitor! He must die.

I felt my skin prickle. I allowed myself to succumb. I let the bow slip from my fingertips, and in a motion, had unbuckled the quiver from around me, and hoped that my armour wouldn't tear apart. Eorlund's tampering with it had allowed it to morph with me, to fade along with my human form and to return when the wolf retreated once more into the shadows of my mind and blood. I felt my bones change, my body stretch and broaden and black fur coat my body. The first time, it had been agonizing, and I had lost my mind. I had now been a werewolf for over two years and had transformed so often that it didn't hurt at all anymore.

We hunt, we hunt, whispered the wolf, except the words were echoed through my own lips, the voice of the wild beast coming through me. Orgmund charged, but I had finished my transformation, and I threw myself to the side, well-adapted to moving and hunting on four legs, like the wolf I was. I spun around, my claws ready, slicing through Orgmund's shoulder, brushing against the arrow which I knew I wouldn't be able to retrieve just yet.

Orgmund whirled around, bronze eyes meeting my own. I snarled, the wolf roaring, and threw myself at him, my fear for the Circle mounting into strength. Adrenalin pulsed through my body. I twisted as Orgmund slashed at the air towards my throat, and raked my claws down his back. Orgmund howled as his blood ran through his fur, twisted abruptly, and slashed at my chest. I gasped as his claws pierced the skin, and immediately I fell back, falling into a crouch to protect my soft underbelly, feeling my own warm blood run, and Orgmund prepared himself to leap on me again.

The words came without me really thinking; then again, it was the wolf in me speaking. You dare to take on a daughter of Hircine, Orgmund?

Orgmund curled back his lips. Our Father demands the blood of a Hound is spilled. It shall be yours!

He was gone, I realized. He had completely lost his mind. He threw himself at me. I braced myself for the impact, knowing I didn't have the speed to duck down and avoid it. I was slammed from my paws, thrown against the blood altar, and yelped as I felt my shoulders slam heavily against the stonework. I heard Samiith call out in alarm, heard Skjor's aggravated bark, and as Orgmund fell on me, about to tear my guts out, the feral wolf was knocked off his paws as Skjor threw himself at my defense, howling a bloodthirsty cry to the skies.

You will not touch her again! I heard Skjor bellow. My eyes widened when I realized it wasn't just the wolf speaking; it was Skjor as well. His voice resonated from within his injured black form.

Orgmund rose, leering over the blood altar. Fools, he growled. You're all fools.

I pushed myself to my paws, knowing that he was going to kill Skjor. Already he had been dealt a critical blow and was weakened. He couldn't face Orgmund alone. As Orgmund leapt, I lunged, Skjor pounced, and Samiith hurled himself at the feral werewolf. But our combined strengths could not exceed Orgmund's. In a flash, a howl, and a whirl of claws, Samiith had been struck down, almost knocked senseless as Orgmund's claws tore through the thick fur around his head. Skjor fell back with a howl of pain as his foreleg was torn open and bled freely. And I found myself trapped beneath Orgmund, who leered at me with frenzied bronze eyes, edged red with Bloodlust, jaws prepared to tear out my throat.

"How could you, Orgmund?" My voice echoed through my unmoving lips.

Orgmund paused at the sound of my voice, echoing all of my sorrow, my misery, at seeing him succumb to the feral ways. Then I watched, dazed, as his bronze eyes suddenly melted away, becoming piercing and green once more.

"I'm sorry, Aela," I heard Orgmund say. His voice, the voice which we all knew so well, which I had heard for seven years, came through, momentarily overpowering the feral wolf that had taken control of his body and mind. "I don't want to do this. But I can't defy Hircine."

That was the last time any of us ever heard Orgmund's voice.

I heard Orgmund suddenly scream in agony, and the werewolf abruptly jerked off my exposed form. I watched as the green eyes faded, to become bronze and red once more. I watched as Orgmund pulled himself through the dark tunnel, using what last restraints and control he had over the werewolf within him to get himself as far away from me as possible. As far away from anyone as possible. I heard the wolf howl distantly, abruptly cut off.

And then silence.

Slowly, I pushed myself to my feet, and looked at the wreck of the Underforge. Blood had been spilled this day. I checked Kodlak, but he wasn't dead, just unconscious. Lemaat was beginning to come around. Samiith assured me that he would be fine. Skjor seemed the worst out of all of us, but he was okay, forcing a wolfish grin in my direction to reassure me.

What a pitiful hunt we had, my wolf growled, as I prowled towards Skjor.

Skjor softly laughed, pushing himself onto his paws. But the prey will fall. We just weren't strong enough this day. Then his humour faded, and I saw him look concernedly at me, and I heard Skjor speak; his wolf fell silent. "I'm just relieved you're okay, actually."

"Thanks." I silenced my wolf also, and dipped my head in acknowledgement, though I remembered the ferocious way which Skjor had fought to defend me, had roared that Orgmund would not touch me again, that he was prepared to fight to the death...because of me.

I suddenly understood. "This is a little more about defending a Shield-Sister, isn't it?" I inquired.

Skjor let out a bark of laughter, his bronze and cloudy eyes gleaming bright. "I wondered when you'd guess," he said. "Of course you would, but I didn't realize it would have taken you so long, the best of seven years, for you to work out the truth."

"You mean that you loved me for seven years?"

"Even longer." Skjor looked earnestly at me. "Ever since I first laid eyes on you in Rorikstead."

"I was covered in dirt and digging carrots in my father's vegetable garden, and you still loved me," I said drily.

Skjor chuckled. "Maybe after you got yourself cleaned up a bit." Then his gaze grew solemn and serious, and he leaned forward, a strange emotion flowing from his body, which I could feel was just warmth. Pure warmth. "But I saw you, and I watched you grow to the role of Companion, and then Circle-sister, and my love could only increase for you. I knew that you were the one I would be blessed with true love with in life. For a long time, I was afraid to say it, afraid of what you were going to say."

"Probably at any other time, I would have said 'You're crazy, you're wrong, get away from me you deluded twit'," I said, feeling my fur prickle uncomfortably with the truth revealed. I had never given any thought to love before, and particularly to Skjor, who for a while had been someone who I had been irritable with as he annoyed me, and grinned broadly whenever I rebuked, but who had been a more dear friend to me than anyone else in Jorrvaskr.

"But not now?" Skjor's ears pricked.

"No, not now. You saved my life, Skjor, and you've admitted it, bravely in front of the remaining members of the Circle," I added, glancing sternly at Lemaat and Samiith, who were watching with some level of amusement in their bronze eyes. I bared my fangs at them. Then I turned back to Skjor. "So I think all I'll say is this: 'I love you'. Because I think I always have, but I didn't realize it until now."

Skjor let out a soft growl of content, and he murmured, "I love you, Aela."

He pushed his snout against my cheek, and I relaxed into the natural wolf embrace which I had never experienced before, but instinctively knew. "We'll have all of eternity to spend together," he murmured. "Death itself will never part us."