Hello

Here's the next one.
Not much else to say so hopefully I'll see you in two weeks.

Enjoy.

Signed from...

"Need a hand?"

I wasn't surprised he'd ask that-the piles of letters on my desk only seemed to grow. I had even tipped one over earlier today when my elbow got to close, as I reached for another jar of ink. Took me more time to clean up than I had patience. It wasn't that it was hard work, I just wasn't that fast of a writer... nor a good one. So Vilkas usually checked my grammar before I sealed the letters.

But I wasn't answering letters today. I was writing one of my own.

"No… I'm not working right now," I answered as Vilkas took a seat in the corner chair. "I'm writing a letter to my parents."

"Your parents?"

"Yeah." I dried the ink of my pen with a rough rag before I turned in my chair to face him. "Ysolda's going to visit them for a couple of days. She's leaving with the Khajiits in an hour."

"You're not going with her this time?"

"Naah. Not today. Said she wants to go alone. Has something to tell my mom, and doesn't want me there."

"What's that?"

Honestly, I had no idea. She had been teasingly secretive about her reason, but I figured it couldn't be anything bad. Lately, she had been humming more so than usual.

I felt I must have had as much confusion on my brows as there was confusion in my answer. "…Women stuff? I don't know."

"I see… So what are you writing?" Vilkas seemed to take my answer for honesty-good, because it was-and with his question unanswered, he moved on to the next as comfortably as any casual conversation could be expected to.

"Just letting them know how I am. And sending them some septims. Winter's never a good time for farmers, so Shor knows they need it." I had been doing this for years now, yet Vilkas would time and time again ask the same question. I knew him well enough now-it was something he did to ease the mood, something he did in order to twine his hidden questions into our dialogue.

"Aye…" He looked tired as he sat, twirling his thumbs. Nothing out of the ordinary… he always looked tired. "So… What did Kodlak want?"

And there it was…

He had looked as if he had a question on his lips the moment he set foot in my room. As I thought, he had been stalling with his questions. And here was the real reason behind his visit.

After Skjor's funeral, I had the decency to tell Vilkas everything. Everything about that accursed place-its horrid atmosphere of perverted torture and murder. And most of all, I had told him of the sickening persona behind it all: Krev.

Vilkas had listened, as he always does-patient attention following my lips. And I had spoken. And my conversation with Kodlak hadn't been that different, at least not the part where I spoke.

Kodlak's reaction had been quite the same-the difference in their expressions had been hair-thin, and the few reactions his body language spoke had been far too skillfully concealed for me to take notice. Yet, nonetheless, Vilkas now sought Kodlak's reaction to it as well.

"He-ehh… He wanted to talk about Skjor… And how it happened."

The weeks had moved slowly since Skjor's funeral, but the wounds were still fresh and the memories fresher. Skjor was a touchy subject and I knew he would be for a very long time. But some things need talking even if it's hard-especially if it's hard.

"And what did you tell him?"

"Everything… The Silver Hand. Aela. What we saw in that place. The corridor… Krev." Her name gave more than a bad taste in my mouth-as if speaking it was an insult to my tongue and my lungs rebelled by refusing me the breath needed to speak her name. It was more than enough to anger me.

I'd lie if I'd say she hadn't been on my mind for the last couple of weeks. It was all her fault. I knew that now. She was the one to blame. For everything. The torture chamber. All those werewolves… Skjor.

But beneath my aimed anger, she made me sick. That helmet hiding the feelings her body so easily portrayed. The joy in her voice as she teased us her actions. And that girlish laugh-as if it was all a sadistic game of pleasure for her. And me and Aela? We had been nothing more than the toys in her little box. She wasn't human. She couldn't be.

How long had she been at it? How many had suffered because of her? I could have ended her right there. I should have. But at that moment, something held me back. She had gotten under my skin. Made me hesitate. Afraid… I hated to admit it, but I had feared her. And I no longer knew if that fear had been my own, or my wolf's. Perhaps both.

"And what did he say?" His eyes were serious, yet with a hint of anticipation as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

"You know how he is," I said before inhaling. "He mostly listened. And understood. Like he always does."

"Aye."

"I know he's the wise sort, but… sometimes it annoys me how… unaffected he can be. As if it's all ¨within the turning of the tides.¨" I gestured with one hand as I impersonated Kodlak's calm old voice and quoted him. Or, well… said something I felt Kodlak could say. At least it gave Vilkas a silent laugh as he started smiling.

"He's an old warrior," Vilkas started. "And he conquered his feelings a long time ago. Just because he doesn't show it, doesn't mean he's not grieved."

I knew that. As Vilkas said, Kodlak might not show it, but he had told me,¨Your heart is full of grief, and my own weeps at the loss of Skjor.¨ And that, I could believe.

"Yeah I know. I didn't mean it like that, but-"

"I know what you mean…" Vilkas interrupted. "Did you know Kodlak's the one who found Skjor?"

I hadn't. Skjor had never spoken of his past, even when asked. And when asked, he'd just… stare you down until you left. "No, I didn't."

"Some twenty years ago. Supposedly found him in High Rock. The way Kodlak told it, he saved Skjor from some spoiled noble there. With a barrel of wine for a belly." Vilkas made a face of resentment as he mentioned the noble. He had never respected the comfortable. "But he did make it sound as if, in truth, it was the noble he saved-by taking Skjor."

Yes. That sounded more like Skjor. I couldn't imagine him working for some spoiled ¨milk-drinker¨ without getting the urge to ¨make his opinion heard.¨ He never had the temper for it. And I doubt he had more of it in his younger days. Younger days?...

"...Some twenty years ago? So you were-"

"Six… Seven? I had just started to hold a sword."

"...How was he? Back then?" I hadn't realized how little I really knew about Skjor. I knew who he was, but I had no idea who he had been.

Vilkas gave me a look before he drew air, leaning back as he drew his hand over his face, rubbing his closed eyes as he recalled memories. "Angrier? He shouted a lot, and his face always turned red when he did. I don't remember that much. Only that I was… afraid of him."

"Ha!" I couldn't help but laugh at the slightly embarrassed smile that had taken form on Vilkas's lips. "I can imagine that. It does sound like Skjor."

I had always known Skjor to be the angry type. But he had never shouted or yelled at me, or anyone else, for as long as I had known him. Neither had I ever seen his face turn red. Seems with age, he had channeled his anger into disappointment. Perhaps I'd prefer if he had yelled at me every now and then. But now he never would...

"Aye… Anyway. What else did Kodlak ask?" Vilkas asked after our shared smiles settled.

"Yeah." It took merely a moment to return to my thoughts of the conversation. "He wanted to know if I had heard from Aela."

"And?"

"I haven't… He seems to think she'll contact me when she learns something."

"I'd think she'd come for all of us? Why would…" Vilkas pinched his lower lip. "But Kodlak does have a way of knowing us better than we know ourselves." Again, Vilkas leaned forward. His silver-blue eyes set on me as if he was trying to read my answer before he even asked. "If she does… What will you do?"

I blinked at his question. I knew the answer. I knew exactly what I'd do would Aela call for me. And the thought of it had made me clench my jaw in deep-yet controlled-hate. The sort of hate that slowed one's heartbeats. Krev...

"...I'll avenge Skjor. I'll find her. And I'll avenge him for what she did."

"Aye… I was afraid of that." He looked as serious as ever.

"She deserves it, Vilkas. I told you what we found. What she did! You know she deserves it."

"I'm not against avenging Skjor. It's the look in your eyes I'm afraid of…" My eyes? Had they turned yellow? No, I would have felt my wolf awoken. This anger was my own. "Vengeance sought by hate isn't the right way. You won't hon-"

"Tss!" I interrupted. That statement had already been given to me once today, and I didn't need to hear it again. "Kodlak already gave me the lecture, I don't need yours."

It was hard to tell if his eyes held concern or judgment, but they wouldn't turn away as his lips began to move. "…He's not wrong. The wolf feeds on anger, and he can't be trusted-"

"I know! No need to remind me every time. As I said, Kodlak already did." Vilkas had a stern look as he sighed with a now hard mouth, which only made me sigh equally as hard. I hadn't meant to snap. "I know… ¨Focus on the calm in battle. Control the rage, lest it controls you.¨ I know." Yet another piece of Kodlak's wisdom.

"I'm just afraid you'll… She killed Skjor, and…" Vilkas rarely ¨lost his tongue,¨ but for some reason, he was squirming. "Well… You're like a brother to me. And I'd hate to see something happen to you."

I hadn't expected that. He had never said those words to me before. ¨Like a brother to me.¨ So that's why he had squirmed? Except for Ria, us Companions rarely spoke of our ¨softer¨ emotions. Guess Skjor had placed death on everyone's minds. Made them think of others than themselves for once. But with a sigh I realized, truth be told, I felt the same. Over the last couple of years, Vilkas had become more than a friend to me.

"You too, Vilkas…" Admitting that, made me calmer. But my mind was still set. "I will avenge him, Vilkas. There's no talking me out of it."

"Aye… Just be careful when you do."

I'm not stupid. I know she's dangerous-I was there. Only more of a reason she had to be stopped.

But there was something from my conversation with Kodlak that lingered with confusion on my mind: Take heed, youngling. There's more than your wolf resting behind your eyes-an ancient flame that precedes our time and age. Even I do not know it's potential… You should do well not to wake it.

Repeating Kodlak's words, I turned my head to Vilkas and asked, "What do you think he meant by that?"

Vilkas pondered the question as he tried to interpret Kodlak's sentence-sentences that always needed interpretation. "Hm. I don't know… But Kodlak has a way of answering questions you've yet to ask."

¨Kodlak has a way.¨ He always does, does he not? A repeated statement I've long since grown tired of. Why is it his answers only offer more questions? Why is it he refuses clarity to his words? And now Vilkas did the same.

"And what do you mean by that?"

Vilkas turned his eyes toward me as his fingers left his lips. "I suppose you'll know your answer when the question presents itself."

More riddles-a cryptic answer that made me believe he had none. "Now you're starting to sound like him."

"Ha! Well, the Companions have been mine and Farkas's family for as long as I can remember. And Kodlak's the closest thing I have to a father. I guess he's rubbed off on me more than I thought… I don't mean to confuse you."

"It's not confusing… just frustrating."

"Aye, I'm sure I've heard Skjor tell Kodlak the same thing." He smiled as he said it, surely meant as comfort, yet it brought none.

"Yeah…" A heavy sigh as the mention of Skjor's name again brought melancholy to my mind, seemingly shared as Vilkas too now fell silent. It demanded a change in subject. "So you're leaving tomorrow as well?"

A nod before he answered. "Aye… Kodlak's leaving for Winterhold. Asked me to join him."

"What's the contract?"

"No contract. We're going to see the college library there."

"Library-eey. You always did like history. I take it you'll be right at home then."

"It's my first time going there. But aye, I am looking forward to it. Never cared much for magic, but history, lores, and legends? That kind of knowledge can serve even warriors like us."

"I suppose."

"Learning of the past serves well in shaping the future. And as Companions-a remaining legacy of Ysgrammor-it is our past that defines our present and shapes our future. Our existence has always been rooted in tradition. It's what separates us from simple mercenaries and sellswords."

Here we go again… Does he even realize how he sounds every now and then? Well, at least he only holds a fraction of Kodlak's cryptic mentality. But he's not wrong-Vilkas rarely is-but there are easier ways to shape those words.

Vilkas drew a surrendering smile over his lips and rolled his eyes at me. I must have made a face at my thoughts. "Anyway, I've taken enough of your time. Ysolda must be waiting. Can I walk with you? I'd like to wish her a safe journey as well."

Shit, I hadn't noticed how much of the candle had burned. I still had time, but I should get going.

"…Yes. Only need to sign the letter and we'll be off."

The watery black ink gave way as the tip of my pen entered the jar, sipping at the liquid within. Moving toward my letter, yet another black dot took form on my desk, making its home as it dried amongst the others.

I always felt silly signing my letters ¨from your beloved son.¨ I only did it to please my mother-that signature alone brought her more warmth than the bag of septims that followed. But silly as it felt, at least I knew it to be true.

"Done. Let's walk."