Noticed some people are reading and that I even have two followers, yay.
So I guess I'll have to keep working on this then. that gladdens me greatly.
So more chapters are coming as I get them done.

Please leave a comment if you like, and I'm always open to feedback.

Enjoy

Whelp

The following weeks were tough. Most of the others were kind, and it hadn't taken me long to settle in my new home. But training was murder. At the moment it was the only thing they had me do and my body would ache every night when I went to bed, and ache still when I awoke the next morning. I didn't know if Skjor was trying to train me or kill me. It was almost as if he didn't want me here. But stubborn as I am, I made it my personal quest not to let him break me.

I had been with the companions for a bit over a month now and gotten to know the lay of the place, as well as their rules and customs. The Companions didn't have any real form of leadership, and so every member had as much a say as anyone else. No one was told what to do, and they all decided themselves on how to best search, or fight, for honor and valor. And whenever a contract arrived it would be placed on a wall in the mead hall for anyone to grab.

But since they all had joined in search of honor and glory, and to master their sword arm, they all shared a common goal. So they got along surprisingly well and behaved in such ways as to not ¨dishonor¨ themselves and, or their fellow shield-siblings. And everyone proudly earned their keep.

Even though there was no form of ranks amongs the Companions, it didn't take long for me to notice they were split in two groups, those who were members of the ¨Circle¨, and those who weren't.

The members of the Circle were easy enough to spot. Unlike the others, they had all been given the characteristic gray Wolf-armor to wear, made by the smith of the Skyforge, Eorlund. But the Circle, like said, had no real ranking power, and so their positions were more one of status to show their time as members. It also seemed to come with a number of responsibilities and they also served as guides and role models to the other Companions. The members of the Circle also all had their own rooms in the living quarters, in the basement, and did not sleep in the shared bedroom with me and the others.

The members of the Circle were first and foremost Kodlak Whitemane, the old warrior who had convinced the others to let me join in the first place. He was called the Harbinger and acted as the face of the Companions. He also acted as a guide and adviser for the whole group, and they often came to him asking for his wisdom. He was kind and wise. He even started to take his time to teach me how to read and write.

Then there was Skjor. The balding man I had first met, upon entering Jorrvaskr. He seemed to be around my father's age, maybe a bit older, in his early forties but was, like Kodlak, surprisingly fit considering his age. He was strict to the point of military, and it seemed he had taken upon himself to care for my training. My ¨brutal¨ training that is.

I didn't really like the man. And honestly, he made me slightly nervous. I always got the feeling he was trying to ¨break¨ me during practice. As if he was trying to make me give up and leave. But I figured if I could just keep up with his torturous training I would impress enough for him to accept me. That said, he wasn't a bad trainer though. On the contrary. After my first training with him, he had already gotten rid of my blink-reflex and improved my stance notably.

Though I was sore for a week after that…

Then there was Aela the Huntress, a female warrior in her early thirties. She had brown-red long hair and sharp silver-gray eyes. But unlike the other members in the Circle she didn't wear the wolf-armor. She wore a lighter version made mostly from leather, furs, and hides. It was only plated on her shoulders, chest, and hips. I could tell it was a design for agile movements. And since she was more the ¨hunter¨ type, she favored a bow and needed the extra quickness to draw distance between herself and her opponents. I watched her spar once, and she was surprisingly fast with a sword and shield.

She was often out hunting or on missions, and I had only gotten to meet her in person once. Like Sjor, she hadn't seemed impressed with me. And she hadn't hesitated to order me to fetch her shield from the Skyforge. I didn't like being ordered around, but I didn't want to cause a scene either. So I did as she said, even though she had made fun of me about my duell with Vilkas.

And last, of the Circle, there were the twin brothers, Vilkas and Farkas. They weren't much older than me, two maybe three years, so they were in their early twenties. They had both been born into the Companions and had trained since they were old enough to hold a sword.

Because we were so close in age I found our difference in skill almost infuriating. I didn't even stand a chance against either of them. But I thought that if I trained hard enough, I'd catch up to them one day.

I admit I had misjudged Vilkas. After my duel with him I had believed him to be ¨high of himself¨ and arrogant. But as I came to know him better I realized he was quite smart, educated even. And what I had thought to be arrogance had simply been him already knowing I wouldn't stand a chance. He was honest like that and true to himself. And I came to realize he hadn't held back in our duel because he found it disrespectful and dishonorable toward his opponent. In that case, me. I had to admit… I found myself starting to respect the man. And because of that, I made it my personal goal to one day return the favor… of knocking him out in a duel.

Farkas was kind. He had welcomed me like a brother from the get-go and strongly thought of the Companions as his family. And so in his eyes, I had become part of his family the moment Kodlak had sent me out to duel Vilkas. We got along well. He even joined in my training every now and then. Though, to my annoyance,, he made the training seem easy.

Like his brother he had black hair hanging lose to his shoulders and silver-blue eyes. But his face was far more contoured, rough, and muscular. His physique was that of a brute. Broad shoulder, thick arms, wide back, and chest. And he wielded a large sword that was clearly not made for a normal man. I was big for my age but certainly not larger than him.

I also had quickly come to realize he wasn't the ¨sharpest of tools.¨ Most of the time he didn't get jokes or simply stood around with a dumb look on his face. The others often made fun of him, both behind his back and to his face, for being… ¨not smart.¨ But he would always play it off and laugh with them. He had a good heart.

¨Skjor says I have the strength of Ysgramor, and my brother his smarts.¨ He had told me when he showed me where I'd sleep.

But he did have his rougher side. One evening he had taken me along to the Bannered Mare, the Tavern of Whiterun, to get rid of some troublemaking drunk. The drunk had insulted Farkas' intellect, and Farkas had just snapped… He walked up to the man and reached forward as if to shake his hand, and crushed the drunken man's hand simply by squeezing it in his own. After that, he beat the man senseless and threw him out into the market place head first. I must have imagined it, but for a second it seemed as if he's eyes had been glowing yellow with rage.

"Some people don't think I'm smart. Those people get my fist." He had said, as we walked back to Jorrvaskr.

I learned three things that evening.

One; Farkas has a short temper.

Two; Only the Companions are allowed to make fun of him.

And three; I never want to get on his bad side…

Then there were the Companions who, like me, weren't part of the Circle. They all strove to perfect their war arts, fight for honor, and make a name for themselves. Whenever a new contract came up on the wall they would all gather to quickly grab for themselves the most exiting one. But whenever a contract was taken by someone they would ask for a ¨Shield-sibling¨, someone of the Companions who were willing to accompany them on their mission. If the contract holder didn't like his Shield-sibling he had the right to refuse him or her and ask for a new one, but no one ever went on a mission without a shield-sibling. Both for safety reasons and per tradition.

Aethis had been there the longest of the non-Circle embers. Well over 5 years. He was a Dunmer, also known as Dark elf. I had never met a Dunmer before. So meeting him had been… interesting. Dunmers had large tilted eyes that glowed red like burning coal and their skin was ashen gray. his skin almost looked rough, but when I had shaken his hand it hadn't felt any different than any other skin I had ever touched. Aethis had long rust-red hair, usually held in a knot on top of his head. And he was skinnier than most Companions but made up for it in speed and agility. He once bragged about taking down a giant by rolling behind the giant's feet, severing the Achilles tendons, and rolling away. And as the giant dropped to its knees, he had jumped on top of the giant and slit its throat.

¨Even an Elf can be born with the heart of a Nord,¨ was how he had introduced himself.

I learned the Dunmers originated from Morrowind, a large country over the mountains bordering Skyrim to the east. And he told me they all had ashen-gray skin and red glowing eyes. He also told me that a long time ago they had been a race called the Chimer, who wore golden skin and golden eyes. But due to their search for godhood they were cursed by Azura herself, Deadric Prince of Dusk and Dawn and one of the Dunmers many Gods. And so their skin turned gray and their eyes red so they would forever be reminded of their mistake.

When the Red Mountain had erupted on Vvardenfell, a large volcano island in Morrowind, most Dunmers had to flee their homes. And they mostly moved west to Skyrim, since there was only sea to the north and east.

I later heard that Aethis had ¨Crawled west out of the wasteland¨, as he had put it. But the Red Mountain had erupted over two hundred years ago, meaning he as well had to be well over two hundred years old. Something he told me wasn't an uncommon age among the elven races.

Aethis seemed to take his membership with utmost seriousness. He trained more than most of us and he was always the first one to grab a new contract. It wasn't a secret he aimed to be the first Elven-Harbinger. So I came to think he felt the need to overcompensate for being an Elf.

Njada Stonearm joined half a year after Aethis. So the two of them knew and trusted each other well, and usually worked together as shield-siblings. However, they both had short tempers and always tended to lead each other a bit too much. Something that caused them to regularly go at each other's throats.

It was the two of them who had been fighting when I had first arrived.

Njada had blond short hair and a small feminine face. But her expression was never that feminine. She usually had a grumpy, stern, face and she was in age closer to Aela. Aela was pretty much the only Companion Njada truly got along with. I figured it was because they were both strong female warriors.

Njada was a Shieldmaiden. So she specialized in a short sword and shield, and her skill with the shield alone was by far the most rumored in Jorrvaskr. When teaching me how to use a shield, Skjor once spoke of how Njada would ¨dig her feet into the ground¨ and stand firm as a statue as she let her opponents tire themselves out against her shield. And when they had no energy left she'd just ¨scoop them of the ground¨.

Njada and I, however, didn't seem to get along to well, but not because of lack of effort, but rather because she was… well she was a bitch… She respected strength. And if someone was weaker than her she considered them to be a ¨waste of breath¨, no matter how close the gap in skill was. She also didn't mind speaking her mind, and I once heard her ¨bite Skjors ears off¨ when he had asked her to simply check the handle of his shield.

"If Eorlund made it, it's more likely you're gripping it wrong." she had snapped.

I knew there wasn't a rank boost to being in the Circle, but still… I wouldn't dare insult Skjor to his face, Circle or not.

Torvar was a different one. I quite honestly didn't know why he had stayed as long as he had. He constantly skipped out of training and seemed far more interested in Jorrvaskr's mead storage. He had joined a bit over a year ago and had since then constantly complained about not ¨climbing in fame,¨ but at the same time, he didn't even make an effort towards that.

But he wasn't weak. He would often get in barfights, and oddly enough he never lost. So he wasn't weak. He was simply… lazy. I was sure that if he would only take his training more seriously, he would certainly gain the renown he sought.

Torvard sported a full blond beard and had his blond hair in a knot dropping down the back of his head. His eyes were sky blue but almost always bloodshot from him being hangover. I wasn't sure of his age, but by the way he behaved, I didn't think he was that much older than the twins. Like Njada he used light leather armor but he preferred a one-handed axe in battle.

I had come to wonder if he drank to forget some old trauma or sorrow. But as time went by I realized the man simply and wholeheartedly liked to get drunk. And it wasn't that bad. He was the fun one. Always laughing, cheering, and telling jokes. He was also quite the singer. Filling the mead hall with song almost every evening, and usually the others didn't mind joining in.

So Jorrvaskr wasn't all training and battle. There was plenty of song and laughter too.

"Maybe that's why they had kept him? To keep the spirit up." I had thought one evening.

Lastly there was Ria. She was young, sixteen or seventeen at the most. She had dark gray, almost black, hair set in braids down the sides of her face and head. She had joined the Companions just before me. But unlike me, who had had some training with my father, she had started from scratch. Though she was very enthusiastic, energetic, and positive. Njada would usually train with her, and she always took training with a smile.

She said she had dreamed about becoming a Companion since she was a little girl, and that her dream was to become as famed a Companion as Aela, who she seemed to adore.

I didn't think she was lying, but I did think there was more to her joining the Companions than search for fame. After all, she had a tendency to turn red and start giggling whenever Vilkas would enter the same room as her.

But Jorrvaskr wasn't home only to the Companions. A few people lived here who weren't Companions. But they too all earned their keep, though in other ways.

Vignar Gray-Mane lived there as well. He was a retired Companion, one of the few who had been strong enough to live to old age. He had been a Commander in the Imperial army for thirty years, but after the Great War and the signing of the White-Gold Concordant, which he disagreed with, he put that behind him. He looked to be at least twenty years older than Kodlak.

He was quite the storyteller and historian of Jorrvaskr. Vilkas, who had an interest in history, would spend a lot of time with him. Though I found Vignar often repeated his stories. I guessed his age was starting to make him senile, so he forgot which stories he had told or not. Since he had a hard time walking stairs he had his living quarters in the western room of the mead hall, and not in the basement with me and the others.

The Gray-Manes were an old family, going back to the founding days of Whiterun. So they were quite respected in all of Whiterun. They had once been close to another founding family, the Battle-Borns, but unlike the Gray-Manes, the Battle-Borns had agreed with the White-Gold Concordant and after that, the two families had turned into bitter rivals. Vignar could often be heard trash talking them publicly.

Since Vignar was too old to fully care for himself he also had his ¨aid¨, Brill, living with him in Jorrvaskr. I never got to know Brill that well, but he seemed to handle Vignars everyday businesses and needs.

Then there was Vignars younger brother, Eorlund Gray-Mane. He worked the Skyforge outside of Jorrvaskr and was considered the best blacksmith in all of Skyrim. He made it clear to me he wasn't a Companion himself, but he found great pride in equipping us with his Skyforge steel.

He lived in the Wind District, the middle layer of Whiterun, with his wife and three children. He was in his late fifties and, like Vignar, had thick white hair running down to his chest.

And lastly, there was Tilma ¨the Haggard¨, an old woman who had been with the Companions since she was a young girl. She was truly old. She had gray hair and a wrinkly old face with brown dusty eyes. If I had to guess she would be around the same age as Vignar, but Vignar had said she had been there even before his time.

She served as a maid, cleaning lady, cook, and any other house chores she could come up with. Some had come to call her ¨Mother of Jorrvaskr¨. She was kind and caring and had the habit of treating everyone as her children, even Kodlak. But she also had her stricter side. Let's just say that those who were late for dinner would go unfed.