Chapter Eleven
Vilkas materialized just as we were going to step outside of Jorrvaskr. This fucker is like a daedra. He pops up when you least want him to, I grumbled, fighting the scowl I wanted to give him. Vilkas furrowed his brow at the sight of Farkas and I. I bit back the sharp remark that formed on my tongue, knowing it would do no good to irritate him after our earlier exchange.
"Where are you going?" he asked, directing his question at me.
"We're celebrating her first job. Wanna join?" Farkas offered. I eyed him as if all that mammoth shit clogged his brain. There was no way he could think I wanted Vilkas' company.
Vilkas, for once, spoke for both of us. "I'd rather dine with that giant you fought."
"Huh. That's a shame because it's on me tonight."
Vilkas turned his keen eyes away from me and looked at Farkas, the prospect of free drinks catching his attention. Farkas flashed his twin a shit-eating grin and pulled out a sack full of Septims, jangling it in his face like a lure. The mischievous look on Farkas' face almost made me smirk too. Vilkas let out a sigh and waved him off.
"You're not getting me with that this time," Vilkas said, making me wonder how often this happened.
Farkas yawned. "Boring."
"What? I'm not boring! Take that…"
"Come on, Anyaie. We're off. Betcha can't wait to have that free ale."
"By the Nine you're such a…"
"Bye!" Farkas said, waving, before he pulled me outside of Jorrvaskr.
"Asshole!" Vilkas shouted from inside.
Farkas grinned as he listened to his brother's protests. For a moment, I wondered if we would ever be close enough to warrant a bright smile from him. But he was only like that with his twin. I didn't have any siblings, so I wouldn't understand.
The walk to The Bannered Mare wasn't long, which was for the best. I was unsure how to start a conversation with him. The most I knew about Farkas was that he was Vilkas' twin, the strongest of the Companions, and he trained the whelps. If Ria was here, this would be so much easier with her, I thought. It was kind of him to join me, but it was still going to be an awkward night.
The familiar smell of ale and the crackling fire greeted us as we walked into the tavern. Everyone listened as Mikael, the sleazy bard, sang "Ragnar the Red," a Nord favorite. I used to roll my eyes whenever a bard performed it, wondering how the Nords thought it was entertaining. Now it was nostalgic. It brought me back to a time when I considered the inn my second home. It was depressing to realize I was more attached to a tavern than Jorrvaskr.
Hulda recognized me and motioned me to sit at the bar, so I obliged, Farkas not trailing far behind.
"It's good to see you again, dear, and an honor to serve you, Companion," she said, Farkas smiling at her as he took a seat.
I gave her a slight smile. "It's good to see you too, Hulda. It's been too long since I've been here."
"It has. The Companions must keep you busy. What can I get you?"
"Some ale."
"Coming right up," Hulda said, pouring Farkas and I our drinks. After telling us to let her know if there was anything that she could do, she left. That meant Farkas and I were on our own. I waited for him to say something, anything. An awkward silence lingered and I scanned the room for Hulda. The innkeeper needed to come back, fast. How was I supposed to sustain a conversation with him?
If I had any hope that Farkas would talk first, he dashed them by staying silent. My hopes piqued again when the ale came around. Alcohol lowered people's inhibitions and loosened their lips. Farkas took one sip, then another sip, and another sip. I eyed him, still waiting for him to say something. If any of this troubled him, it didn't show, but it left me irritated. What was the point of coming with me if he wasn't going to provide company? I might as well have just come to the tavern with Vilkas. At least he would use the quality time to reprimand me on being a terrible addition to the Companions. Gods Ria, that job in Dawnstar better be worth it, I cursed.
Why don't you talk to him? a small voice at the back of my mind suggested. Me? Make conversation with him? I watched him as he quietly sipped his ale. What did I have to discuss with the brute of the Companions? His mischievous smile came back to mind. Farkas wasn't as dense as I assumed. I wanted to make the effort. I mean, I bedded men in half the time I was around him, so how hard could it be?
"Did I understand that you fought a giant?" I asked.
Farkas' entire face lit up. "Oh yeah. Big thing. Huge club. It hurt a bit, but it wasn't too bad. Nicked my armor, but nothing Eorlund can't fix."
I blinked, unsure whether I thought Farkas was the strangest or the humblest man alive. Battles with giants was no mean feat and defeating one was often a tremendous victory. Most would brag about their achievement. The Nine know I've seen men vaunt for less. There he was making it sound like it was a tavern brawl.
"Giants aren't aggressive," I observed.
His face fell. "Nah, they're not. They're a peaceful bunch—usually. Guess some locals crossed their turf or something."
He brought the ale back to his lips, and I cursed myself for being a godsdamned idiot.
That isn't what men liked. They needed their egos stroked. How was it I could
get a man between my legs in moments if I wanted to, but I couldn't carry a friendly conversation with a potential shield-sibling?
"Why don't you tell me more about it?" I asked.
He turned to me, scratching the back of his head. "You sure? I'm not much of a talker. I might mess it up."
"Try me."
Farkas delved into his encounter with the giant. True to his word, he wasn't a skilled storyteller. He filled his recounting with "ums" or "wait, no, that was later" and some hand gestures that contributed nothing to understanding what happened. If he were a bard, I would have needed three times the amount of ale to get through a painful story, along with a sternly worded letter to the Bards College for allowing him to graduate. I could have stopped him at any point and walked away, but I didn't want to, not when I saw the traces of that same brightness from earlier.
"Alright, I've talked enough. Why don't you tell me about that sabre cat in Riverwood?" he said.
"There isn't much to say," I answered, fiddling with the empty tankard. "I killed a wild animal."
"You know… that's your problem."
I shot my head up. My problem?
"Oh? What's my problem, Companion?" I asked, irritated. Great. Someone else who thinks they know my issues.
I could see the wheels in Farkas' head turn as he tried to pick his next words. "You're uh… kind of private."
"And? What's that supposed to mean?" I demanded, pushing the ale aside. He was making me regret his company. The discomfort on his face showed me he was regretting it too. Kind of private, I repeated. Did he want to go down this path with me after the lashing I got from his brother? Maybe it would do me good to yell at someone for a change.
"Come on, Farkas," I goaded. "Finish what you've started. Tell me about what a distant bitch I am and how the Companions predicate themselves on brotherhood, and that I should attempt to be closer to my potential shield-siblings. Go on. I dare you."
Instead of humoring me, he took a different approach. "You're kinda drunk and it wouldn't be a bad idea to get food to calm your…"
"I am not drunk!" I snapped while Hulda replenished my glass. This wasn't drunk. He was lucky I wasn't drunk or else I'd send him to Oblivion the way I wanted to with Vilkas. He grabbed the tankard away from me and downed it himself.
"Hey! That's not fair!"
"Neither is how you're acting," he said, wiping the excess ale with his sleeve.
"It's been a shit couple of days. Njada's been a bitch, your brother is a godsdamned prick, and I ended things with the only man I ever loved. So I'm sorry if the last thing I want to talk about is the stupid sabre cat."
There. I said everything that was eating at me. I wouldn't be so willing to share information, but I had enough of people making accusations about me. He wanted to know what I felt? He would get it. If I hurt him, so be it. He shouldn't have made such a trite comment. Not that it bothered me. All the other Companions disliked me, so why should he be any different?
Why did I bother joining at all? I wondered. I should just go back to adventuring. All this companionship bullshit is too much. That settled it; I wouldn't return to Jorrvaskr. There was always work in Skyrim and I could do it alone, like I did before.
I spotted Uthgerd the Unbroken huddled away at a corner of the room. She was deep in thought and drink, oblivious to my argument with Farkas. The Companions rejected her once, and she remained bitter for it. Uthgerd didn't realize how lucky she was. She still owes me that favor for the brawl I gave her. Maybe a good fight is what I need.
"That's the most I've ever heard you talk about yourself," he said the moment I decided to see Uthgerd.
Something about the way he said it made me turn back to him. His blue eyes bore into mine with an intensity I would have attributed to Vilkas. It wasn't the searing gaze of his brother's wrath. He was trying to understand me.
"You don't know me. Why would you care?" I sneered, but he unsettled me.
"Because that's what being shield-siblings is," he replied, undaunted by my tone.
He refused to look away as the truth of his words settled over me. He was right—I was cold the moment I walked into Jorrvaskr. It was bad enough everyone knew I was a Thane. I wanted them to see me for who I was, not my title, but I couldn't do
that either. I became a doormat, letting them walk over me, hoping they would
accept me. That was almost excusable. I was the new one, seeking to find her
place. At the end of the day, I put no effort into knowing the people who would
become my shield-siblings. I held back during those nights in the mead hall, preferring to keep to myself or talk with Ria. For once, I was speechless.
Words failed me, but they didn't seem to fail him. Oh sure, now he talks. "We shouldn't have to find out from Vilkas that you're Dragonborn, or you're a Thane, or that you went on your first job when you tell us yourself."
"You're… you're right," I admitted, taking a seat next to him in defeat. I needed to make this up to him.
"I'm sorry. It's not you… it's me…" I cringed. And he was supposed to be the one who was bad with words. Gods, I sounded like a teenager going through their first heartbreak.
He softened his gaze and pushed his tankard my way. "You sound like you need this, but eat something. Tilma said all you had was a sweet roll."
I nodded, letting him order something for both of us. Then our silence resumed.
It was my fault yet again. I took a sip of ale, thinking about Hadvar's accusations for the thousandth time in one day. Hadvar was right—I was a godsdamned coward. Another sip. Helgen changed me for the worse. I was so scared of things falling out of my control and losing everything. A longer sip. I made a promise to the Divines, so it couldn't be all that bad, could it? What if it wasn't just about Helgen? I finished the ale in the tankard. Farkas' concerned eyes fell upon me once more. Divines, it wasn't all about Helgen, was it?
"I didn't say that to make you feel bad," he said, cutting into my thoughts.
"What I feel doesn't matter. It needed to be said," I sighed, brushing away the memories of Helgen.
"Not to be mean, but you're kinda missing the point. What you feel does matter. How else are we supposed to trust you if you don't tell us anything?"
I turned to him, gave him an incredulous grin, and asked, "Do you really want to know me?"
"I do," he answered.
Before I could form a coherent answer, Saadia brought our food, and I was aware of the burning at the pit of my stomach. The scent of the grilled vegetables and the seared venison greeted me. I dug into the leeks and the potatoes and forgot everything I wanted to say. Getting drunk meant eating first and chatting about feelings later—or never. Farkas cut into the meat and took a bite. I hoped that would keep him preoccupied. Of course not. Mr. Silent and Strong now couldn't shut up.
"My brother and I have been at Jorrvaskr since we were little whelps. Our father raised us there. Even Vignar couldn't remember Companions younger than us," he said.
That surprised me. I always assumed those who joined the Companions did so in their adulthood. Raising children at Jorrvaskr seemed counterintuitive. With all the weapons and armor, it didn't seem like a suitable place for kids. Oblivion, my girls were good, and I still worried that one of them would get hurt if I left my axe lying around. More than that, I believed in letting children be children. The talk of fighting and combat was something they could learn all about when they were older.
I settled on answering, "Really?"
Farkas took another bite of his venison and replied with his mouth full. "Ish no big deal." He swallowed and then tried again. "I mean, it's no big deal. I don't remember what it's like being new to Jorrvaskr, but I guess it's hard."
"It is. I haven't been easy to get along with, but the others… I don't think they like me."
"It's not all personal. Lots of faces pass through Jorrvaskr. We all know
what it's like to get attached to a potential Companion too soon," he assured me, trying to keep his tone even, but perhaps he got too close with some of them.
It never occurred to me that it would be hard for the Companions to lose possible members. Farkas told me it was rough when I joined, but it was the first time I contemplated it. They struck me as battle-hardened warriors who understood the risks of their lifestyle. As I looked at Farkas, I questioned it. Perhaps knowing didn't make it the reality any less painful. I had more sympathy for my potential shield-siblings—most of them, anyhow.
"And Njada? Is she trying to run me out before she gets too close?" I asked.
"Ignore her. She likes testing people's limits. My brother let you have an earful for what happened in the yard, but don't listen to him. You gotta be able to stand up for yourself too," he said.
"I didn't mean to use my Thu'um on her. I don't always have control over it."
"Huh. Well. At least it helped this time."
His nonchalant answer didn't ease my guilt, but he was right—sort of. The Thu'um would get her off my case with her stupid errands. I wouldn't have wanted it to happen that way, but it was better than nothing.
Emboldened, I asked, "What's your brother's excuse?"
"Ah, he's just an asshole," Farkas said, that same mischievous grin from earlier gracing his face again. I caught myself thinking he had a great smile, the sort that rubs off on you. He was laconic in most of his interactions with the Companions. It was refreshing to see him at ease.
"That ain't fair to him. He's got a lot on his mind these days, so he's grumpier than usual," Farkas conceded. His smile dimmed, and I thought I saw a touch of
concern there. I didn't bother asking for more details. He wouldn't share. Neither did I care enough about Vilkas' problems when I had my own.
"It doesn't excuse how he treats me," I said. That was a stupid thing to say. Much to my surprise, he wasn't angry. Instead, he shook his head in agreement and asked Hulda for another round of ale.
"You're right. He closes himself off and he can be kind of hard to reach. Hey, you do that too. That's why you two don't get along."
I glared at him. Of all the things I wanted to hear, the last one was that there was any resemblance between that dick and I. The good news was I didn't need to tell Farkas. He stuck his hands up in surrender and corrected himself. "Sorry but uh, what I meant to say was that it's hard to earn his trust."
"He hasn't made himself endearing to me either. He had no right seeking out information about me. Can you guess why I said nothing about being Dragonborn?"
"Uh, well…"
I answered my own question. "Until a couple of months ago, I didn't know I was Dragonborn. It's not all there is to me. I came to the Companions because I wanted to do good as me, not the Dragonborn."
He cocked his head a little, processing what I was telling him. The odd part was that I wanted to tell him. The word needed to come out, itching for release as if they were a Thu'um. It has to be the ale. I'm never this comfortable talking to anyone. Before I realized it was happening, I admitted what led me to join the Companions. "Actions speak louder than titles or birthright. I just… I just hoped I could find some place to do that."
It was like I was naked in front of a man for the first time again, vulnerable, anxious to see his response. I wanted to shrink back into myself and pretend I never said anything. Farkas didn't need to hear it. I was sure he already thought I was weird enough without me gushing about my feelings. This damned ale. I shouldn't be drinking. It's not good for me. Ignoring my own advice,I took another huge gulp. It would be better if I forgot whatever I said.
"Titles don't matter." He must have known this wasn't comfortable and wanted to lighten the mood, so he chanced bumping my shoulder. It took me by surprise, but so did the next words that followed. "I wouldn't even care if you had some fancy title like Jarl of Cheese Valley."
I snorted and bumped his shoulder back. "Cheese Valley isn't a hold."
"It should be. Cheese is good."
For the first time that day, I laughed and Farkas rewarded me with that bright smile he wore earlier.
"Now enough about the depressing stuff. You're telling me about the sabre cat and we're getting wasted." Farkas raised the tankard. "To your first job."
"To my first job," I said, and clinked mugs with him before chugging down the rest of the ale.
Soon after, Mikael sang an old ballad about the daedric princes and the foolish man who sought their artifacts. I caught the beginning of the song about Hircine, which was the verse that most people were familiar with. No matter how much I thought the bard was a prime piece of horker shit, I couldn't help but sing the words underneath my breath.
"If you kill this man-beast
At the full moon
I promise, o hero,
My greatest boon."
Thus said the stag
The Prince of the Hunt
And so this man-beast
The hero would confront
My singing warranted a strange look from Farkas. I turned red, figuring it was my horrific voice. Did I sing that loud? Everyone cheered in the tavern when Mikael sang about the hero slaying the shifter. Regardless of my opinion on the despicable bard, his baritone voice conveyed the thrill of the hero's adventure. Farkas remained quiet, choosing instead to focus on drinking. He clenched his jaw as if he was struggling with something, his shoulders tensing with the applause. Something dark lurked beneath his stoic gaze. It was odd, but I didn't think much of it.
It was my turn to brighten his mood, so I leaned in and said, "I only remember the Hircine verse because I'm piss drunk for the other sixteen."
Farkas guffawed, and I was proud of myself for getting that out of him.
The tension from that day melted as Farkas and I continued to drink. Between his good-natured quips and his stories about his youth, Farkas drew more laughter out of me than I had done in months. My cheeks hurt from smiling. I didn't remember when that last happened, but I liked it. We could become good friends in time. At the very least, he would be a great drinking buddy.
When it came time for the tab, he paid for the amount in full. I
was in the middle of telling some stupid story—I can't remember what—and I stopped.
"Waaait. You don't have to do that," I protested.
"Wasn't kidding about the free ale," he said, flashing me the same playful grin he gave Vilkas.
"But my first job! I should pay!" I exclaimed, beckoning Hulda and pulling out my bag of Septims. Farkas pushed the coins back to me. My skin tingled at the warmth of his hand during the brief moment it was on mine. Wait, what did I just feel?
"Keep it," he hiccupped, not giving me time to linger on it. "You earned it."
"But Farkas!" I objected, slamming my fist on the bar, then yelping because I hit it too hard.
"Ooh. I'm scared. Bet ya can't even walk straight."
He was right, but I wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Pull yourself up, Sylanitte. I pushed the barstool back and got off the chair with no problem. That's a good start. One step at a time. The world spun as I took a step forward, making me lose my balance and crash into Farkas' chest. I almost pushed him backwards, but he grabbed a hold of me and stayed put on the stool. It took me a second to process what happened, until I looked up at him, his silvery blue eyes amused. The heat rose to my cheeks.
He snorted and propped me back up. "Come on. You need some sleep."
We giggled like idiots as we swaggered towards Jorrvaskr. I tripped up the steps going to the Wind District, causing Farkas to let out a roaring laugh that I'm sure the entire town heard. It got worse by the time we made it to Jorrvaskr, and I realized there was another set of steps to deal with.
"There's no way you're gonna make it up those steps," Farkas said.
"Yes I can! See? Look!" I insisted, only to have him stop me by clamping a hand on my shoulder.
"Fuck no. You're gonna break something and then you won't be able to train. I'm carrying you up."
"But I'm tall!"
"But you're thin. Should balance out okay."
Before I had a chance to protest again, he tossed me over his shoulder as if I were a ragdoll. Few men could carry me the way Farkas did. I told him off, made a show of it, but I didn't mind. He didn't take me seriously, having felt me laughing the entire time. It was like being a kid coming back home from sneaking to the tavern—sober enough to know that you could wake your parents up, but being drunk enough not to care.
Once we were down the stairs to the living quarters, he stubbed his toe along the doorframe. He let out a yelp of surprise, almost dropping me to the floor, but he regained his composure, which made me burst out into a fit of giggles.
"Shh! The others are sleeping!" he thought he whispered, but I was sure it was loud enough for everyone to hear.
"Okay, okay, I'll stop," I said, biting down on my lip.
"Promise?"
"I promise," I said, mocking him by lowering my voice to sound like his.
As he put me down, I had to hold on to him to steady myself. Unable to uphold my promise, he tried shushing me as a laugh escaped through my hand over my mouth.
"Bed. Now," he ordered, pointing me to the whelp quarters.
"Okay, Daddy. I'll be a good girl."
It was Farkas' turn to blush. I didn't mean anything serious by it. I was always looser when I was drunk. How else would I have made it through the first few times being with a man? He'll forget about it in the morning. I enjoyed getting under his skin a little; he was cute when he was flustered. As expected, it made my laughter louder, with some unflattering snorts.
"Hey! Stop that! You're gonna wake the others up!" he protested.
"It's okay! They don't like me, anyway!"
These words only exasperated Farkas. He picked me up again, shushed me—which still didn't work—and walked towards my room. I quieted as we crossed the threshold of the whelp quarters, no one stirring at our entrance. Despite being drunk, he was gentle as he placed me on my bed.
I looked up at him, smiling an extra stupid grin.
"Hey Farkas?" I said, staring into his silvery-blue eyes.
"Yeah?"
"I needed this tonight. Thanks."
He grinned here and covered me. "I'm glad too, but don't thank me yet. You gonna be real hungover tomorrow."
"Still doesn't hurt as much as Hadvar," I yawned. I thought I saw sadness or pity flash in his eyes, but fatigue overcame me, my lids growing heavy. I wanted to yawn out 'good night,' but I wasn't able to stay awake any longer. As I was losing consciousness, I could have sworn him say, "Hadvar's an idiot," but darkness overcame me before I could process it.
P.S. I realize I've been forgetting to do this, but I wanted to take a moment to thank all of you lovely folks for reading! Hope everyone's having a good weekend!