Looking back, I kick myself for never finishing this story. After stopping at ten chapters, I never forgot about it and often thought back to it. Well I'm back and will post the first ten chapters hopefully before the end of next week and will continue with the story until it is finished because personally, if not being able to forget about it means anything to me, I think it means that I wasn't satisfied with where I left it. So, if any of you who read this are already familiar then welcome back and I'm happy to have you back, but if you're new than I welcome you with open arms and I hope you enjoy.
In the fourth era, the petulance of man and mer kind, regardless of how grand or petty it was, seemed to be almost infinite. There was the ever waging war between the Empire and the Stormcloaks, that The Companions (thankfully) didn't tire themselves with. But, much in Vilkas's opinion the reasons behind the war, if someone were too ask him, tipped the scale of petulance to the side of the latter.
He wasn't without beliefs and one would be hard pressed to find a single person, no matter their origins without. But, to claim the reasons behind the war were objectively justified was certainly an absurd notion.
Was Tiber Septim a great man? By all accounts of his exploits, no matter how questionable, Vilkas could easily agree and people were in the right to remember him for them. The question of his divinity however was, to him at least, a matter for the philosophers. Not that for the minds of Tamriel's governing bodies.
It was these sorts of topics that annoyed Vilkas at great lengths. Even now, as he tried to sit comfortably at the table of Jorrvaskr in front of the fire pit that burned brightly with warm radiance, while he and his fellow Companions ate breakfast at their leisure, he had old Vignar Gray-Mane to thank for his inability to enjoy his breakfast due to his intolerable ramblings about the unjust acts of the Empire and the Aldmeri Dominion.
"It isn't right!" Old Vignar exclaimed with great passion. "We have a right to worship whatever gods we see fit. Who are those damned elves to say otherwise!" Vilkas held his tankard in a tight grip. He closed his eyes to yield his rising irritation with a clenched jaw and flaring temples.
There was a prolonged sense of envy that had long planted itself in Vilkas towards his twin brother. Farkas had a more agreeable temperament than he; not by a large margin by any means; but just enough to make Farkas more tolerant of such aggravating twaddle with less obvious signs.
Vilkas had at one point attempted to profit from his brother's example, but the gods appeared to have cursed with a mind that could not align itself with his own desires. It was the same even when they were children which did not earn Vilkas very many friends when he and his brother were growing up but he was never one to harbor any guilt for it. It was simply not in his nature.
He was always perceived as a strong willed soul with an air of intuition. As flattering as the notion was on the surface, Vilkas always saw it as nothing more than a childish way to say that he was stubborn. He could never place his finger on as to why people, fellow Nords even, would make such comments about it. Stubbornness was a common Nordic trait. The Stormcloaks being the primmest of all examples. But, for his fellow Companions to point it out was paradoxical. Aela was stubborn, as as Farkas and Njada. Even Athis, a dark elf, was stubborn. Vilkas didn't meditate on the question for too long. There was no point he felt. And, he couldn't spend too much time scrolling through his thoughts when Vignar's voice continued to cut into his patience.
"I would dare any elf to challenge my beliefs. I'd soon put them down for the trouble." Vignar declared with strong conviction.
Standing from the table, Vilkas grabbed his plate - the contents thereof being of cooked horker meat and a sweet roll - along with his tankard and made his way to the back doors leading to the courtyard outside. It wasn't entirely so he could face the morning with some peace, mostly it was for Vignars sake that Vilkas left before he lost whatever thin strand of patience he had left.
There was a long list of reasons why The Companions did not dally into politics in any public way. Mostly they neither had the time or patience to care. To Vilkas especially he never saw a difference in the ultimate objective of any war ever waged. No matter the morals or ethics of the combatants involved. In the end, war was simply a demonstration of tact to garner more power as the end result.
When Vilkas stepped outside he felt the air was cool as it was dry, much like the table he was sitting at. The table creaked when sat down and the legs shifted under his weight. Thin sheets of ice hung from the edges and in between its crevices which made the surface slick and almost completely smooth save for the bumps and the flaking.
He was content to eat in the cold silence of the morning. Upon contemplating on which he would prefer between eating out in the courtyard or inside where Vignar was no doubt continuing his mind grating rambles, he considered the cold, empty training yard to be a blessing. Between the noise of his shield-siblings crowding around one another and speaking to each other, the youngest hours of the morning were always a test to see who would be the first to try his patience, for that was when he was most irritable.
What made the pleasurable experience of eating outdoors better was that Whiterun was a fairly quiet city. It's people, who were generally polite and courteous, would only now be waking up before they went about their mornings with respectful conduct. Vilkas cut a slice of horker meat and stuck it in his mouth, savoring the juicy richness of it's flavor as he chewed, thinking about what living in that great cesspool of a city Solitude was like. He had been there enough times to know that having a quiet moment to ones self was a practice in the chimerical.
Alone with his thoughts, Vilkas wondered what the day would bring him for he was eager to get to work. He couldn't stand to go to long without. Not that he had a problem with downtime, but he could hardly distinguish the two. He enjoyed what he did; provided that the coin that their clients offered were preferable to their regular rates. Vilkas was a warrior as he was trained to be ever since he and his brothers were boys. Fighting was his life and his future. He held true to what the Companions believed in and he was honorable, which was the most important part of the job. No matter who or what he was fighting; whether it was low-life bandits or a fearsome predator of the wild in the dense forests of Skyrim's wooded regions; he always made sure that he held the honor of the Companions along with him.
"Is the heat of Jorrvaskr to much for you this morning?" Kodlak Whitemane spoke with the usual good natured and relaxed tone that unknowingly to itself, had the ability to sooth even the most heated of tempers. Kodlak never acknowledged if this was a conscience effort. Vilkas supposed that it didn't really matter because it didn't change the effect that Kodlaks words had on them all. One would alone could grant them courage, and a few minutes of speaking with the old warrior could grant them the wisdom of a lifetime. Kodlak was an inspiration to them all, and he lead them with the same honor that they so often spoke of.
Kodlak sat on the side of the table opposite Vilkas and Vilkas responded with, "I needed to escape from Vignar," in a sardonic tone as he looked out passed the stone wall towards the dark blue morning sky of the winter where the winds were chilly and the clouds were black. The kind of weather that Nords were naturally accustomed too. But, onto the other races that called Skyrim their home, it was the time of year that kept them indoors in the comforting touch of a fires warmth, under cozy candle light where they would sit with a blanket over their shoulders and a warm beverage to further deepen their comfort.
"I see." Kodlak responded knowingly. "I understand your querulousness. We aren't the type for the likes of politics and the Gray-Manes are a passionate bunch. However, I did not see any of our shield-siblings taking part in the discussion and nor did I witness them leave as you did." Vilkas chewed the remains of his breakfast with lethargic slowness as he was catching a sudden intimation from his harbinger. "So I urge you steal yourself. You may find that it easier than you seem to believe."
"I highly doubt that I could." Vilkas retorted as if to prove Kodlak's point.
Kodlak gave a wry chuckle and scratched at the table with his index finger. His long, white beard gave a slight flutter as the wind made it passed the wall of the courtyard and he looked up at the mountain range, instantly taken in by its beauty. He always liked looking up at the Throat of the World that stood sentinel with the sharp, jagged peaks of its summit scratching against the sky as the monastery if High Hrothgar peered down, silhouetted behind the clouds like an apparition from an obscure and forgotten past.
"You know, I brought a new member in yesterday." Kodlak mentioned candidly. "Not the typical sort that we normally get around here. The Jarl's court wizard asked me to take a look at her. Seemed damned eager to be rid of her. She's been going to and from Dragonsreach for for weeks; sometimes staying all throughout the night if permitted."
"Doesn't sound like Companion material." Vilkas commented dryly.
"Yes. She's more of a scholar than a fighter - an enthusiast in alchemy, arcane enchantments and related fields. Why, when I went to see her - she was hunched over Farengar's alchemy table mumbling to herself like some sort of madman. I don't know what she was doing, but it looked like delicate work. I didn't think to much of her when I first came upon her, but after I had a chance to sit down and speak with her I sensed a certain strength of spirit. She needn't tell me more that what she did but she shared enough to convince me that she will do fine here. Now, fitting in however is another matter entirely."
"Why?" Vilkas raised an intrigued brow.
"You haven't met her yet. It would be easier for you to see for yourself than it would be for me to explain why. All I will say is that she has a kind of walk and talk that we don't see around here." Vilkas crossed his arms over his chest and tried to imagine what kind of person Kodlak was describing to him. The Companions were no strangers to foreigners. People from all walks of life, from many different lands have sought them out. Certainly this woman could not be anything more than something they had already seen in another. Kodlak may just be exaggerating. "You will see your fill of her when she comes by later. And, Vilkas," Kodlak's tone became more serious and he immediately attained Vilkas's full attention. "I urge you to guard yourself around her. I don't imagine you will care for her being a Companion."
"Does this worry you?"
Kodlak leaned forward and rubbed his face then moved to stroke his beard. "Not to any great extent." He admitted. "You take your duties very seriously as do the rest of us. As for our new member - well, she is a woman of studious and eclectic habits and I do not yet know how everyone will adjust to her. So I ask that you attempt to practice some patience. It may be while before anyone is used to her."
Vilkas looked hard at his harbinger and for a few seconds both were quiet in a contemplative pause. "Kodlak, with all due respect - you're being awfully delicate about the matter. What not just explain her plainly? Why the discretion?"
"It is not easy to describe the ineffable, lad." Kodlak replied sincerely. "She's too eccentric to describe in just a few terms. If it helps, just think of her as any other person. Broadly speaking that is. A person with strengths and faults. I am confident that she will make a very fine addition. And, last I checked we have some empty beds in Jorrvaskr for those with a fire burning in their hearts."
Vilkas sighed in frustration at Kodlak. He did not like being kept in the dark in these matters. For whatever reason Kodlak was keeping a lot to himself which Vilkas found odd and made him feel somewhat uneasy. He took a deep breath and took a drink from his tankard. He wiped his lips then rubbed his hand over his face before clasping his hands together, rubbing them against one another as he thought.
"I suppose," Vilkas spoke slowly, "that if you feel that she is right for us - than who are we to disagree. Should she prove otherwise we will handle it accordingly. Just as we have always done." When Vilkas finished speaking he had a secondary statement hiding in between the context of his words. Kodlak understood it as, "Do not let this end up like Uthgerd." It was an unfortunate accident what happened with Uthgerd and one that Kodlak knew could have been prevented. It was such an awful waste that they withdrew her from Jorrvaskr for she was an excellent warrior but the young life that she had inevitably and unnecessarily taken was an even greater waste.
"Worry not, lad. I feel great things may come of this. You just wait." Kodlak finished confidently.
Once breakfast was over, Vilkas had gone about his morning in his typical normal fashion. Dressing himself in the standard armor that he, Kodlak and Skjor often wore that bore homage to the majestic wolf. It was a heavy yet comfortable amalgamation of forged steal, leather and fur that hardly required time to get used too. It was an excellent set to be worn by a warrior of considerable mettle and reputation for it was easily recognizable. He squeezed his hands into fists as he fitted his gloves and strapped the buckles. He fastened his sword that sat inside its sheath around his waist and took a deep breath. Feeling ready now that he was dressed.
When Vilkas exited the room, his brother was just shutting the door to his own bedroom across the hall. Though they were identical twins; it was never a challenge of observation to tell them apart. Farkas was a mountain of a Nord that was sparing in his voice but not so much in his wide eyed glances. His broad shoulders and overbearing height could render even the most bravest of men to feel weak at the knees, and his deep voice was like that of an roaring bear if he was angered. The chilly, stone depths of Jorrvaskr's living quarters meant that their non-nord contemporaries would be making haste back up to the top of Jorrvaskr to the main hall where the fire would keep them warm. As for Vilkas and Farkas, they enjoyed taking their time.
Vilkas gave his brother a friendly pat on the back and said, "How are you this morning, brother?"
"All is well." Farkas replied plainly." The grit in his voice made more pronounced in the silence of the halls. "You hear? Kodlak's brought in someone new!"
"Yes." Vilkas sighed tiredly. "He mentioned it to me earlier. He wouldn't say much about who she is. Mostly he went on about how she has a passion for the arcane."
"What?" Farkas looked hard at his twin with a confused look.
"Magic - brother." Vilkas replied with repose as he was used to resorting to such pleonasms for his brother's sake. "She has a love magic and potions."
"Hmmm…" Farkas responded as he thoughtfully rubbed his stubble freckled chin. "A mage is to be a Companion? Hardly makes sense." Vilkas agreed with a hum and a subtle nod of his head. As they spoke to another they made their way down arched, windowless corridors of Jorrvaskr's lower level. Chandeliers that hung only over the intersecting corridors lit the dull, gray quarry stone of the halls aside from a few lit candles scattered throughout before they reached the doors that lead up to the top level.
The two brothers continued to converse with one another as they made their way to the dining table until they were stopped by Tilma. An elderly lady who was well within the twilight years of her life. She came upon them with an inquisitive look and a sweet smile.
"Excuse me, boys?" Said Tilma politely. "Could one of you be a dear and head to Arcadia's Cauldron for me? I have a list of materials that I need to get. I would do it myself but Jorrvaskr needs cleaned and my old bones don't care much for the cold anymore."
"I'll get it, Tilma." Offered Farkas.
"No, no, brother! Allow me." Vilkas uttered suddenly and took the list that Tilma was holding before Farkas could grab it.
"Are you sure? I can…"
"It's no problem. I could use the walk." Farkas shrugged his shoulders and Vilkas made off with the list, walking out into the brisk cold of Whiterun's streets. He descended down the stone steps of Jorrvaskr to the Winds District of the city right into the park where the Gildergreen stood in its proud decadence. Vilkas understood that the tree was significant to the city for its historical and religious importance - especially to the temple of Kynareth that stood across the park directly opposite Jorrvaskr. Its history is fascinating; of this Vilkas agreed; but the damned thing had been dead for so long that he felt that it should be forgotten.
He went down another flight of stone stairs that leas him to the main market place where the market stalls currently stood empty as their owners still had not opened them up. A few people were laying out their goods to be sold but that was all to be seen until later when the market would be packed with people looking to purchase and barter.
Arcadia's Cauldron was thankfully one of the first shops to open in the morning and Vilkas stepped inside. A small jingle vibrated through the air, letting the owner know that a patron has stepped inside. A warm gust of air greeted Vilkas as he stepped in, and the room was lit with warm fire light coming from the square shaped hearth in the center of the main room.
The woman in charge, who the store was named after, was leaned over another lady who was sitting at her alchemy table. She quickly turned her head and smiled when she noticed it was Vilkas who had just walked in. Arcadia walked behind the counter where many hand-made concoctions of different varieties stood in bottles of different colours along with different alchemical ingredients from flowers and other organic materials and waited for Vilkas to state his business.
Pulling from his pocket the list that he took from Tilma, Vilkas was about to speak until he a loud clanking of glass from the alchemy table. He looked at the lady sitting there. She had a slender frame; wearing greenish-blue robes with white, silken trims. She sat faced away, sitting hunched over the table; to busy into her work to notice anything that was happening around her.
"May I help you, Vilkas?" Arcadia asked with a pleasant smile. She was pleased to see Vilkas for she always thought that he was an attractive man. His dark, shoulder length hair and unshaven stubble always caught her eye but she most adored his icy gray eyes. Such a unique colour; she thought. But, her admiration was always from afar since he was always coming and going from Whiterun. The price one had to pay to be a Companion as was the kind of standard that they adhered to.
"Ummm…yes." Vilkas said as he turned his eyes on the sheet of paper in his hand. He scratched his temple and said, "Let's see here."
"AH! AH HA HA!" Shouted the unknown woman in a spontaneous and victorious manner. "I've done it! I've done it!" She stood up from her stool with vigor, pushing it against her leg and almost tipping it over. She ran over to Arcadia behind the counter with zeal and that was when she took notice of Vilkas through dilated pupils. She gave a soft, nervous chuckle, tucked her hair behind her long, pointed ear and said, "Do excuse me. It's hard to contain excitement when they have made a very momentous breakthrough. Do come and see for yourself!" She said before running back to the alchemy table, pulling on Arcadia's sleeve thus dragging her along. Vilkas exchanged glances between the girls and the counter before he sighed and approached the table himself to see what all the fuss was about.
"Now!" The woman said sharply to garner their attention. "Of course after numerous attempts - after mixing Fly Amanita - which we all know is a common fungus and famous for its more… lets say its mind altering effects," The altmer said with a giggle, "combined with the root of a Creep Cluster and the wings of the lovely Monarch butterfly - I have succeeded in creating a compound with the necessary effects that will revitalize and protect the Gildergreen!" The altmer woman squeaked with excitement, bounced up and down on her toes, and rapidly clapped her hands together in a puerile manner. It could go without saying that no greater delight could be shown across the altmer's face.
On the alchemy table there stood a green bottle about the size of a wine bottle with a thick, dark liquid that Vilkas almost thought was mud of the scent didn't convince him otherwise.
"And, you managed to do it without nullifying the effects of any of the other agents?" Arcadia inquired with an incredulous expression but with obvious excitement. The altmer nodded with a wide smile. "But, you added so much! How could you without causing some kind of negative reaction?" Arcadia was sure that with so many compounds; some even extremely volatile; that some sort of backfire would have occurred.
"You give me far too little credit, Arcadia." The altmer retorted. "I am a practiced alchemist with an intimate knowledge of the field. The only way to prove that something can be done is by making the attempt. Now, hurry with the samples. I am eager to see my compound work." The altmer said with a wave of her hand.
Now that the moment had at present revealed itself, Vilkas observed with careful scrutiny all that he could of the excited alchemist standing before him. In height she appeared to stand just about six feet tall, close to his own height. She had light red hair and like all High Elves that he had encountered in his life she had fair, smooth skin that still held the golden complexion indicative of all Altmer. Her eyes entire were like that of brilliant emeralds that were sharp, piercing and seemingly observant. Her facial features were defined, narrow and pronounced that gave her whole expression an air of alertness and decision. Arcadia returned handing out a blue cloth that was wrapped around something therein and the altmer reached out for it allowing Vilkas the sight of her hands which held a very feminine elegance, but were blotted with ink, faint burn marks and light patches of discolored skin as if a caustic material had damaged it upon contact showing the evidence of the altmer womans practice. Yet, despite the state of her hands, she demonstrated a delicate touch as she went about the alchemy table.
It was here where Vilkas came upon a notion of intrigue towards the altmer whom he had a growing suspicion.
"Excuse me, miss?" Vilkas inquired curiously at the altmer. She looked up at him with wide eyes that made her look strung out. "You wouldn't happen to be the newest member of The Companions by any chance, would you?"
"An excellent observation, Vilkas!" She said with a toothy smile. "You certainly live up your reputation of being quick as a whip - least, that's how your harbinger put it. But, you're too slow. So, I personally would call it amateurish at best. I mean no disrespect I assure you. Kodlak was a bit sententious and proudly boastful." Vilkas felt a kind of bitterness fill his heart at her comment.
"Oh, but where are my manners? I have not introduced myself." She raised her hand out and said, "An'Aloriander. Pleasure to make your acquaintance Companion. If my name is a little too much for you than you may call me Annie as many of my associates often do." The way she had pronounced her nick-name was 'On-Nee' and Vilkas repeated it as he had heard it.
"Pleasure." Vilkas replied dryly as he shook her hand. "Apologies, but I need to get what I have come for and be off. Will you be making your way to Jorrvaskr later?"
"Obviously. I did not join for the sake of saying that I had been accepted." Vilkas once again felt a bite of bitter annoyance.
"Well then, enjoy your morning. We in The Companions will see you this afternoon."
"Indeed, you shall." Annie poised.
Vilkas had done what he had come to do and slowly made his way back to Jorrvaskr. He breathed deeply through his nose and shook his head. He honestly did not know what to think of the new Companion to be; assuming she'd make it which Vilkas doubted with great strides. She was to slender and frail looking with no trace of muscle to be hinted at. She looked like she would run from a fight before it even started and if that didn't kill her than certainly one of his shield-siblings would. She was rude and disrespectful that went beyond the childish insults that The Companions routinely threw at one another.
Despite all that, Vilkas still garnered some level of intrigue towards Annie that he was loathe to admit. The sheer amount of enthusiasm, excitement and energy she shared about her work was contagious enough that he wondered if her compound would actually work to bringing the Gildergreen back to life. There was passion in her for sure which could help her on her way to be a Companion which served to show what Kodlak said about her was true and he felt guilty for having doubted the old man. There was passion in her, which brought what Kodlak had said into his mind, "A fire burning in their hearts".
Unfortanely I have lost access to my old account otherwise I would have continued from there, so I literally have to re-write the chapters before I can repost them. But, there is an upside because that means I can go back and make some changes that I feel need to be made for the sake of flow and consistancy, not that I wouldn't have been able to that with my old account, but that is not an option for me.
Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed this reuploud of the first chapter and I will have the second one up very soon.
Cheers! :)