Chapter 35: Living by Hope
As it eventuated, there was no time to confirm what Kodlak thought I was before the Circle left for Ysgramor's tomb. Eorlund completed the repair of Wuuthrad by dawn, the Circle had kicked the Companions out of bed, and everyone wearily assembled in the mead hall with looks ranging from dazed to murderous.
The Circle stood together in front of the hearth before the u-shaped cluster of tables. They were prepared for battle in their regular armour, but with every strap and shoulder bearing a weapon. I wondered if Aela would freeze to death in her favourite skimpy arrangement, but wasn't daft enough to question her choice. Their blood ran hotter than non-werewolves; Vilkas hadn't seemed to notice the snow when we'd ventured north. The cold would be the least of their worries.
Vilkas held Wuuthrad before him casually, with Farkas on his left and Aela to his right. He watched everybody stumble into chairs around the main table, and I was struck by how at peace he seemed. The fire flickered reflected light over the scars and stubble on his face, caught the lines of his armour and turned his inky black mop as red as Aela's hair was on its own.
The role of leader suited him, as though he had been born for it. If he was nervous about their journey, the struggle they would face, or that he might be challenged by his wolf during their travels, he didn't betray it.
Those gathering muttered and whispered in low tones, even after they had sat. Aela's penetrating glare and Vilkas' pointed clearing of his throat got the message across to Athis, Vignar and Brill, but seemed to have no effect on Njada or Torvar, who continued to grumble to one another.
"Shut your mouths, or I'll shut them for you," Farkas drawled lazily, words resonating despite his lowered volume.
They started as though Farkas had barked his words, then complied. The air in the mead hall begrudgingly settled.
"We have a promise to keep to Kodlak," Vilkas began, breaking the thick, curious silence. "So, we'll be gone for a few days."
"You're leaving right now?" Athis called with a frown.
"No leaving feast?" Torvar added in a grumble.
Farkas' silvery eyes settled on the Nord in warning. Vilkas mirrored his look, but with less annoyance and a small nod toward the Dunmer.
"Yes, within the hour. It is a matter of honour that has been delayed for long enough, and we must not wait any longer. But, before we leave," Vilkas' eyes found mine, and the corner of his mouth arched. "We have an announcement."
"Wait, their leaving isn't the announcement?" I heard Njada whisper.
"It cannot have escaped your notice, whether you are in Jorrvaskr for days or hours between jobs," Vilkas continued, "that our newest recruit has forged a place among us, despite the challenges we have faced over that time."
I felt more eyes on me, and tried to suppress a flush. I was used to exposing myself emotionally to my shield-siblings every time I sang for them; listening to Vilkas speak about me should be a breeze.
The heat crept into my cheeks regardless. Somehow I felt as though I was standing naked before them; it would have been easier to get up and sing. I returned Vilkas' smile, hoping I didn't look as small and fearful as I felt. I could do this; I would do this, for them, and for me. Use the nerves, I schooled.
"Would you join us, Celeste?" Vilkas asked quietly, as though we had no audience and were just at Kodlak's table together.
"I would be honoured," I attempted a smooth, relaxed manner, and padded toward the Circle. My socked feet made no noise against the flagstones and behind me, all was silent.
"This past month will be regaled to future Companions as a time of change. Much of it unexpected, and unwanted," Vilkas continued while I made my way around the tables. I halted beside Farkas, casting him a glance, but his focus was on the Companions. I turned to face the small audience as well as my stomach churned unhelpfully.
Vilkas went on; "We have taken significant losses, but contracts continue to arrive, requesting the might and mettle of the Companions. We are strong, and will become stronger with each passing day. Keep your eyes and ears open during your travels for any who have the heart and courage to become worthy shield-siblings.
"The time for vengeance and regret is drawing to its end, so it's time for us to rebuild, and acknowledge what we have gained," he motioned toward me.
The hall was deathly quiet. I tried to breathe less noisily.
"You have probably already guessed why I asked Celeste to rise. Farkas, Aela and I have agreed that now is the time for our shield-sister to join the Circle," Vilkas proceeded straightforwardly.
Of course there was a murmur. I didn't meet the murmurer's eyes, but knew who had made it; Vignar always had something to say when it came to leadership, and he was rarely satisfied unless he could personally gain advantage through appointments. I ignored whatever it was he said, which I didn't properly hear anyway, and tried not to react to what Vilkas had said – Aela had agreed I should join the Circle? I had assumed it would simply be a matter of her being outvoted by Vilkas and Farkas. I cast the woman a hasty, curious glance, but her eyes were trained on the assembled Companions; her expression flat, schooled, and unreadable.
"You have all seen how invaluable she has become, despite her responsibilities to the Hold. You have been assigned jobs and paid by her over the course of the past moon, and this is a job she will continue to maintain in our absence," Vilkas continued.
I shifted my focus sideways, anxiously wondering what he was coming to.
"What you haven't seen," he sighed, meeting my sideways look, "is how she holds herself in battle, and faces challenges I have seen men twice her size run in fear from. And," his voice modulated; tone amused, when you knew what to listen for, "you have not seen her face a dragon, and absorb its soul."
"And you have?" Vignar's voice oozed snark.
With a flat expression, Vilkas inspected the old man, and after a weighty pause, he inclined his head. "That I have," he murmured.
Vignar hmphed; a vague sense of disbelief, but said nothing more.
"Celeste is Thane of Whiterun and Dragonborn, which means she will be taken away from us more often than we would like," Vilkas returned to his address, and I recalled that he was going to visit the Jarl after the announcement.
I quirked a smile his way. "I would much rather be here, I assure you."
The words bubbled out of me before I could stop them. They managed somehow to lighten the air of solemnity that Vilkas had woven; Athis chuckled, Farkas cast me a smirk, and the corner of Vilkas' mouth twitched; all he was likely to betray in this professional capacity, if he was amused.
"Of that I have no doubt," Vilkas continued, angling his head toward me; his thickly accented tone rumbling and rising. "You have proven your loyalty, and in return we give you ours. I am honoured to call you sister, whether you are training at Jorrvaskr, singing for the court, or fighting wyrms at the Throat of the World."
The dryness to his last had their intended effect; our audience felt it too, and another chuckle drifted toward us.
I didn't see who it was who laughed, and it didn't matter. He had told them and there were no protests of relevance, only the expected grumbling from the expected old goat. I was a member of the Circle.
Vilkas turned back to the others, explaining that while they were away, as the remaining member of the Circle, they were to defer to me for job allocation and payment.
Watching him speak, with the warmth of his trust lifting my spirits, I was yet again struck by his newfound control. Vilkas had always been so gruff, so on edge, and I wondered if knowing he was days away from being freed of the beast blood gave him the solace he had been unable to attain when I had first met him? It was very likely, but I was surprised his inner wolf wasn't putting up more of a fight in sensing the end was nigh.
Vilkas talked briefly of the journey they were to embark on, advising that they were making a pilgrimage to Ysgramor's tomb in order to keep the promise they had made to Kodlak. He brought the assembly to a close by asking Aela, Farkas and I if we wished to add anything, and when we shook our heads, he dismissed the Companions to their duties.
Most lumbered downstairs, intent on returning to bed I assumed. Aela cast me a wary, tight-lipped nod, then turned on her heels, throwing Vilkas and Farkas a pointed glance before she strode out of the front doors. Vilkas called Tilma over and began talking to her about something to do with their rooms.
Farkas was the only one to step forward and congratulate me, which I found a little startling, as I had not expected to be congratulated.
"Well, you've done it now," he smirked with laughter in his tone, reaching around and encasing me in his enormous arms for a hug. "But, you deserve it," he murmured with a sigh. "And, now you have to stick around, or at least visit us sometimes, between all the dragon slaying."
Surprised, I smiled as Farkas withdrew. Clasping his forearms, I met his eyes and felt a little sad. The sheen of the beast blood was reflecting the hearth fire, but I could see the excitement beyond it in the pale silver. He was excited about their journey, and clearly looking forward to being free of the beast.
"I wish I could go with you to Ysgramor's tomb," I wasn't sure of what else to say. I couldn't promise I would always be here; everybody knew I would need to leave, and soon, to go to the Greybeards. I had delayed for too long, but on my list of personal priorities, going to High Hrothgar fell somewhere after the fateful journey I was determined to make to Windhelm.
For the moment, it was warming to feel and know that I belonged.
A snatch of derision from the side of the mead hall made me falter; I glanced toward it. Vignar and Brill had retreated to the table I had once occupied to sing at, in my early days with the Companions. The pair were muttering in low voices, and it was clear that they were muttering about me.
"Ah," Vilkas' tones reached my ears; he must have noticed as well. He lay a hand on my arm, urging my attention his way. "They're a pair of old women; nothing is good enough, unless they have been consulted first," he murmured with a conspiratorial gleam to his eyes. "Let them have their natter. It keeps them happy," he winked.
I smiled, but my mind was still on the other two. Would I have trouble from them the moment Farkas, Vilkas and Aela left? Truthfully, my duties were the same as they had been the past weeks; I was to remain at Jorrvaskr and handle the collection and assignment of jobs. If they hadn't taken umbrage with the role before, it would be illogical for them to do so now.
"All will be well," Vilkas clapped my shoulder, then released with a squeeze.
"Are we set, brother?" Farkas asked.
Vilkas nodded. "Almost. I'm bound for Dragonsreach first," his focus flit to me.
"Doubt the Jarl will be awake yet," Farkas drawled with a half-shrug.
"Still needs doing," the smaller twin shrugged in the same manner. "I'll work something out."
Vilkas instructed me to begin training for the day, then handed me the key to the money box. He said he'd return as soon as he'd spoken to Jarl Balgruuf, and that the accounts book was where it usually was.
Farkas remained with me, and I was glad for his company. Once he and Vilkas left, and with Kodlak and Ria both gone - I wasn't all that familiar with anyone else.
Time to change that, I told myself as I found my boots, slipped them on, then grabbed the accounts book and money box from their recess next to the door. They were all my shield-siblings, even the disagreeable ones, and I promised to make more of an effort to engage with them while the rest of the Circle was away. They had all remained to hear me sing during my performances, so I knew if all else failed, I could reach them that way.
"How's your arm now you're spending so much time lounging about the court in a dress, m'lady?" Farkas asked as we stepped outside into the brusque dawn breeze.
Placing my burdens on the table, I cast him a suspicious, sideways glance. I hadn't been training as much as before, but I had still been training a little every day. "It's doing fine, I assure you," I huffed a laugh.
"Yeah?" he grinned, picking up a pair of practise swords from the training rack. "Prove it," he turned and held a wooden blade out.
I gingerly took it. "Can't I warm up at least?"
"It's Frostfall, sweetheart," Farkas tilted his head, squinting up to the sky. "The day won't get much warmer than this."
"That's not what I meant," I rolled my eyes.
"Yeah," he chuckled. "I know. I'm stupid, but I'm not that stupid."
"Farkas, you're not stupid," I emphasised.
"Go on, then," he waved his arm toward the training area. "Ten laps of the yard'll get your blood pumping."
"Ugh," I complained and passed the blade back to him, falling into a jog as I descended the stairs. You did ask.
Farkas observed, arms crossed and practise swords held in a meaty fist, leant against one of the supports that held up the overhanging roof. While he grinned and appeared to be enjoying himself, he said nothing.
As I jogged in the brusque coolness of early morning, I wondered if Farkas was trying to distract himself with the banter, and the suggestion to train together. The man had always appeared to live life in the now and leave worrying about the future for when it arrived, but perhaps he was worried about Ysgramor's tomb, after all?
Or perhaps he was just killing time before his brother returned from the Jarl.
After ten laps I did feel warmer, and wasn't as out of breath as I would have been two months prior; a small win. One I was a little proud of.
Farkas smiled smugly as I slowed on my next pass by him.
I held out my hand for one of the blades, eyeing him suspiciously. "Is something amusing?"
Farkas' grin broadened as he relinquished the sword. "I'm happy," he replied, motioning that we move down into the middle of the yard.
I was pleased to hear it, and laughed warmly at the simple, truthful response. His happiness was catching. "About anything in particular, or just, you know, happy like a little puppy?"
Farkas barked a laugh. "You'll pay for that one," he turned and fell into his sparring stance.
I stood opposite and adjusted my feet, arching an eyebrow as I raised my sword. "Is that a threat, sir?"
"It's a challenge," he lifted his sword, then bowed to add a mocking, "m'lady," in an undertone.
"Accepted," I smirked, watching for his first swing. Farkas would always attack first. Once we had shuffled to the edge of the training ground, I would fall to attacking, so we could make our way back across the yard.
"You're all kinds of cocky now, aren't you?" Farkas swung with a grunt.
I shuffled backwards and centred my weight, raising my blade in both hands to meet his strike. Grinning in reply, I remained quiet; my attention on my feet, my focus, and my form.
–
Farkas called a stop and his attention shifted to a place beyond me.
I lowered my sword, turning in time to see Lydia and Vilkas step around Jorrvaskr. Vilkas had strapped Wuuthrad to his back, and the gargantuan axe handle protruded above his head.
They were discussing something, and as they passed the hidden entrance to the underforge, Lydia laughed.
They seemed at ease; it must have gone well with the Jarl. Grinning, I ran to meet them.
"Good morning," Lydia greeted, pointedly widening her eyes.
"Lazy Lydia," I slung my training sword through my belt, nodding to the horizon and the sun climbing higher across the skies. "Since dawn I've been made a member of the Circle and battled my shield-brother into submission – what have you achieved?"
"What?" Farkas called out from the training yard.
Lydia shook her head and laughed, before enveloping me in a hug. "I was worried about you, little one, and then with your note..." she trailed off. "Anyway," she brightened, squeezing me close. "You're here, and I'm pleased to see you are well."
I refused to let go of my high spirits, or her. I hugged her back, but didn't see any reason to respond.
"She was here the whole time," Vilkas rumbled an assurance, reply wrought in a way that made me seem like a naughty, wayward child.
I caught amusement in Vilkas' eyes as we parted, and turned properly to him. "Did you meet with the Jarl? What did he say?" I couldn't mask my grin, wishing I had been there for the announcement, as much as I had enjoyed training with Farkas.
He shook his head. "Farkas was right; he was still abed, and his brother wouldn't wake him for the likes of me," he shrugged. "I have left a message with Proventus. He will see that word of your appointment spreads swiftly."
I hesitated, sobering slightly. No chance to speak to the Jarl about our journey after Ysgramor's tomb, then. "And Windhelm?" I asked anyway.
"Let's work out the details when I return," Vilkas replied steadily.
"Windhelm?" Lydia asked swiftly, glancing between us.
I shook my head at her; not now.
She crossed her brows, vexed. "I suppose you'll be wanting to say good bye," she sighed, turning to leave. "I'll wait by the Gildergreen. Come find me when you're done here, and...maybe we can have a chat."
"All right," I winced as she left. "Thank you!" I called out belatedly. I would have to tell her about Windhelm now, and I knew she wouldn't like it.
You couldn't have snuck away without telling her, I told myself dryly. Better she knows now.
"Farkas!" Vilkas called. "It's time we were going. Aela's waiting outside the main gate."
"Right. I'll get our packs," the larger twin had taken refuge on the verandah stairs, and rose, flicking a wave and a wide grin my way. "Don't slack off too much, shield-sister. We'll do this again, when we return."
"It's a date," I called back, laughing.
He crossed his brows and shook his head, pushing open the doors to Jorrvaskr and muttering something about a little brat.
"Celeste," Vilkas drew my attention back, and an edge to his tone sloughed the giddy bubbles from my amusement.
His hand was outstretched. I clasped his wrist as an equal, as it seemed to be what he expected.
Curiosity filled me; I glanced up to him with questions in my eyes.
"Til next we meet, little dove," he offered a slow, shallow nod.
The use of Kodlak's pet name winded me, and suddenly I found myself on the brink of tears.
"Oh, that wasn't fair," I reprimanded with a shaky laugh.
He only smiled in reply.
"Divines keep you safe," I added, swallowing the lump in my throat as I took his hand in both of mine. "I wish I was going with you," I added quietly.
He replied with a chuckle this time, and turned his eyes to the ground. Some reservation made him seem all at once younger, and more unsure than he was letting on to anyone else.
I was uncertain about their futures, too. I had no idea how far they were travelling, or what they would encounter. Despite their combined strength of arm and mind, there was a chance they would not survive whatever the tomb put in their way.
Vilkas shuffled his feet, then looked back up to me. His sad smile fell, and he opened his mouth to speak, then seemed to reconsider, and closed it.
"What is it?" I urged. I doubled my smile stubbornly; resolved to think only of their triumphant return. The alternatives were impossible to consider.
He dropped our hands. "I will keep an ear out for any news of Hadvar," he cast his gaze toward the skies over the wall behind the training yard. His tone was casual as he added, "The path to Ysgramor's tomb will take us through the Pale."
A gust of icy breeze buffeted me, and I gripped my arms to steady myself. I had to maintain hope of Hadvar's triumphant return, as well as my shield-siblings. I could not stay here, safe in Jorrvaskr, if I was to lose them all.
I nodded to the ground, then made myself look up. "Thank you," I told him, quietly, but surely.
His eyes found mine again, and a gust of wind that whistled between us. "Once I am whole, we will go to Windhelm."
Again I nodded, staring up at him. The sheen over his eyes reflected the clear, pale blue of the morning skies, and beyond the glassiness, his vow, etched onto the silvery orbs. What would it be like to look into his eyes and see them unclouded? Would I know who I saw, once he returned?
Impulsively, I threw my arms around him and pressed against his breastplate; the steel was so cold that it scalded my skin, and he was more tense than he was letting on. "Be careful, brother," I murmured.
Vilkas held me briefly, then retreated, taking a step back to clear his throat. "I will face whatever lies ahead," he told me, or perhaps himself. "And I will return," his eyes shone briefly with a flash of amber, as though the sun had caught them for a second.
I nodded. My chest constricted as he took another step away and raised his hand.
A good bye is a happy thing, I reminded myself. I forced a smile, and raised my hand in return.
"Keep the books up to date, all right?" was his farewell, then he turned and walked past the underforge and around the outer wall of Jorrvaskr, to meet his shield-siblings, and his destiny.
I took in a great rush of frigid morning air as a gasp the moment he was out of sight. Turning toward the verandah, I resolved to just sit by the accounts book for a time. Perhaps I'd take a cup of tea until I felt less...
What was it I felt? Fear for my shield-siblings? My deeply burrowed worry for Hadvar? Guilt that I was to remain safe while they all fought? Abandoned?
The moment I sat, I remembered Lydia was waiting for me at the Gildergreen, and that I might have gone with Vilkas to go meet her! For that matter, I could have seen him and Farkas to the gates if I'd thought about it!
Laughing pitifully at myself – it was too late now – I rose, grasping the key to the money box and throwing the chain around my neck – it wouldn't be wise to leave it lying around.
Wrapping my arms around myself – it really was freezing this morning – I hurried to the courtyard that encircled the stark, bleached Gildergreen.
Lydia was sitting on the bench seat where I had first met her daughter. Her back was straight and hands gripped the edge of the seat as she watched the marketplace with a small frown on her face. When she noticed my approach, she turned and arched an eyebrow.
"Windhelm?" she asked smoothly.
Sighing, I reached a hand out to her. "Will you come back to Jorrvaskr? I have to keep an eye on things there now it's...official."
She took my hand and rose. "You aren't planning on doing what I think you're planning on doing?"
"I probably am," I ascended the broad stairs toward the ship, knowing she would follow. "But, maybe not. Maybe I'll surprise you yet."
"And you've roped Vilkas into your scheme?" she continued in disbelief. Her footsteps landed close behind mine. "Why didn't you come to me first?" she added in a lowered tone.
I swallowed, realising what I was hearing in her tone. It wasn't disbelief; Lydia was hurt.
I hadn't expected that. Hesitating, I turned back to her. "You've got it all wrong," I bit my bottom lip; glanced toward the glow of the Skyforge. "This isn't something I've been planning. It happened last night. You were asleep and...I wanted to speak to Kodlak," I explained as I gazed to what I could see of the place his remains lay. "Vilkas found me at Kodlak's desk," I murmured, and trailed off, caught by the warm orange glow of the Skyforge against the grey and blackened stones.
I felt Lydia shift closer; she placed a consoling hand on my shoulder.
Glancing back to Lydia, I forced a small, swift smile. "I thought to go to Windhelm by myself and keep everybody else out of it. I never expected Vilkas to agree with my decision, let alone offer to take me."
Lydia made a tutting sound, but her eyes were kind. "That stupid oaf," she muttered.
I raised my eyebrows; I'd never heard anyone refer to Vilkas as stupid before. "He's going to clear the way with the Jarl, too," I added, feeling somewhat defensive of him.
"And how do you suppose he will achieve that?" Lydia posed smoothly as she dusted my shoulders, frowning at whatever she saw there, then lowered her hands to her sides. "Just because you are a member of the Circle doesn't mean that the Jarl will expect any less-"
"He'll find a way," I cut in with certainty. "I am going to Windhelm upon Vilkas' return," I told Lydia firmly. "It's the only way to find out what has become of Hadvar, and my sister. I must do this."
Lydia stared through slightly-narrowed eyes, then sighed and stepped closer, winding an arm around my shoulder. "All right, little one. You're right; we'll find a way, if it's what must be done. It's been an age since I was in Windhelm," she sighed again, more thoughtfully.
"We?" I glanced up. What I had thought would be a solo mission was turning into a group expedition. "What about Lucia?" I managed.
"I can be both a mother and a housecarl, can I not?" she cast me a sideways smile. "Unless you prefer I stay here?"
"I assumed you would need to remain here," I told her truthfully, delicately. "Windhelm will not be safe, and I wouldn't want to put Lucia through that."
We rounded the end of the upturned ship and I looked about the empty training yard. When exactly would the other Companions rise and start their day? I'd have to check the book and see who was meant to be out on jobs.
"And that," Lydia cut in sternly, "is exactly why I need to come with you," she poked my ribs. "Imagine what Lucia will go through when she learns you're going to Windhelm."
"Vilkas will watch my back."
"And who will watch your front? And your side? The top of your pretty little head?" she jostled me under her arm.
I laughed finally, trying to swat her off. "I'm not useless, Lydia."
She sighed, but it was a happier sigh now. "That you're not. But, I want to go with you. I want to look this sister who is pretending to be you in the eye. And, the Jarl will want me to go with you, no matter what you and your shield-brother manage to spin. Lucia will..." she paused, and reconsidered, and smiled. "Have you noticed how the Jarl's children adore her? Dagny, in particular – who would have thought that the key to softening her heart would have been a timid six-year-old?"
I had been so taken up with my own affairs that I hadn't noticed much of what Lucia had been up to, other than that she was happy. "You would trust Dagny to watch over Lucia?"
"Actually, yes," Lydia chuckled. "She's not so bad, once you spend some time with her. I think she's just lonely, and stifled by her father," she wrinkled her nose.
I laughed softly, understanding that feeling entirely, and sauntered up to the table where the accounts book lay, flopping into the seat behind it. "Now I've heard it all."
"Lucia is happy and safe, and her needs are being met quite beautifully now," Lydia drew a chair up beside me. "She is not the one I worry about day and night," she continued, lifting her eyebrows.
I cast her an uneasy smile, but looked away at once to busy myself, or at least my hands. I slid the quills out from their recess in the book's spine, and unstoppered the tiny bottles of ink that accompanied them.
Lydia's hand was on my shoulder, comforting again. "You can come to me at any hour," she said in earnest. "The Companions aren't your only Whiterun family, you know," releasing my shoulder, she pat me on the back, then retreated.
My silence was one of, I had to admit, guilt. I knew I had been taking Lydia for granted, as much as, if not more than I had been taking the Jarl for granted, before I had been effectively grounded by him. Lydia had shown me nothing but kindness from the moment I had first met her lolling in the entryway of Dragonsreach, and she deserved a better, truer Thane than the likes of me.
Then be better for her. Say something.
"I know," I replied quietly, glancing sideways at her. "And you are family, Lydia, more so than the only woman in Skyrim who I'm linked to by actual blood," I muttered, my bitterness too easily surfaced.
"We will get to the bottom of that, Windhelm or no," Lydia spoke with confidence. "Which reminds me. Do you have blank paper, and a spare quill? I have some enquiries to make of my own," her lips tilted in an unimpressed manner.
I passed her a few slips of paper from the table, and one of the quills. "I'll get back to my practise," I rose and grasped my bow in one hand as I shouldered my quiver.
Lydia nodded, her focus already on the task before her. "By all means," she murmured.
I watched her write as I adjusted my quiver so it was steady and comfortable. With her head turned down, I could see a few tiny braids wound amongst her otherwise free-flowing, ebony tresses. She must have let Lucia at her hair again.
Smiling, I drew an arrow and nocked it as I approached the stairs, firing at the target as I walked. With a barely-audible thunk the arrow struck the target, one circle away from centre.
Frowning, I drew another, raised my bow, and fired as I descended, slow and sideways. Another thunk.
I smiled, watching the fletching shake as the arrow settled in the centre spot. My progress with the bow never failed to hearten me, for it was proof that I could accomplish anything, so long as I persevered.
I fired at the target once more, and my breaths came easier, smoother as I focussed. While music would always be my calling, firing a bow calmed my mind in a whole different way. I had become accustomed to the feel, the weight of my bow, and from within the clarity called up by marksmanship, I could imagine that someday, I might learn to be a dragon slayer.
If I was honest with myself, I could have started my pilgrimage to the Greybeards that day. Physically, I felt much more confident. But emotionally, I was not ready. I could not abandon all I loved, all who needed and were relying on me and not the fabled Dragonborn to remain here for the now. I could not leave without knowing.
Excuses, I berated as I positioned my feet and fired a course of arrows at each of the targets and training dummies. There will always be something or someone to keep you from fulfilling that duty, so long as the Greybeards are not before you, dragging you to High Hrothgar.
An arrow thudded into the leg of the target stand. I will go, I vowed, scowling at the defiant arrow. I must go. But after I know.
Chances were that if we survived Windhelm, whatever I found there would make me want to shut myself up in a faraway monastery for a time, anyway.
You have to hope that all is not as bad as it seems.
I huffed a dark laugh. It was an easy thing to keep saying I would live in hope, but it was another matter entirely to actually live it.
–
My only visitor that morning was Irileth, who summoned me to go to the Jarl at my next convenience.
I left Lydia in charge of the accounts book – it didn't matter she wasn't a Companion, for she had spent enough time with me during my training to know what was required.
As I left with the Jarl's housecarl, I wondered why Lydia couldn't become a resident of Jorrvaskr herself? Vilkas had asked to be on the look out for new recruits. I resolved to propose the notion to her at a more appropriate time.
The Jarl congratulated me on my appointment, relayed to him by Proventus during his breakfast. His eyes shone and he clasped my hands as he spoke again of my greatness, as he was wont to do now and then.
The audience didn't last long. He requested I be present for dinner that night so we could celebrate 'properly', and dismissed me to my Circle duties, insisting I take some time to settle into my new role.
As I left Dragonsreach, bemused that he had been so thrilled, with a sudden clarity, I realised why he was. As though I was a tree, each new accolade that helped me grow also pushed my roots down further, firmly set into Whiterun soil. He was pleased because it meant I was more likely to call Whiterun home, if not already, then someday.
I squinted against the bright sunlight as I exited Dragonsreach and my gaze came to rest on the barren, windswept, bittersweet Gildergreen.
Perhaps comparing yourself to a tree is not an appropriate analogy, I shuddered.
–
That night after dinner at Dragonsreach, I returned to Jorrvaskr with my lute strapped to my back, intent on playing for my fellow Companions. I was met by Tilma before I could begin, and the elderly housekeeper advised me that my room was ready, should I wish to view it.
I crossed my brows. "Room?"
"Yes, dear," she smiled patiently; the papery skin around her lips crinkled. "You are part of the Circle. It won't do to have you sleeping and bathing with the others now, will it?"
"Oh," I shook off my confusion. I had little need of yet another room in Whiterun, and if my mental map of Jorrvaskr was correct, there were only two rooms recently made vacant. I wasn't certain I wanted to take Skjor's room, particularly with it being opposite Aela's, and taking Kodlak's was...well, that was Kodlak's room. I doubted anyone would feel right about moving into it.
Tilma motioned for me to follow her. "Don't look so frightened, dear. If you don't like it, you don't have to sleep there. But it is yours by right."
"I'm not frightened," I hurried after her. I was being ungrateful, and tried to make amends. "I'm sure it's lovely. I merely...didn't expect to be given a room."
"All members of the Circle need a space in Jorrvaskr to call their own," Tilma led me down the stairs. "Whether it grows dusty and disused or home to all of your most treasured objects is beside the point. It's tradition," she finished tenaciously.
"Well," I replied quietly, uncertain of what to say. "I'm very grateful for the gesture," I supplied.
"It is my pleasure, dear. It is clean and ready for a fashionable young mind to put her claim on it," Tilma's voice eased, and she was once again all kindly grandmother. "Or you might want to leave it as it is. You will make it your own, over time, I suspect."
As though she hadn't already confirmed what I feared, it was with a sense of both relief and dread that Tilma continued walking beyond the hallway that led to Skjor's old room. That left only one place they could put me.
They did expect me to take Kodlak's room.
My eyes lingered on the table outside of the doorway; on the closed journal resting there. You wanted a way to be closer to Kodlak, I thought bleakly.
Tilma stopped before the door and searched the pockets in her apron.
"Now. Where is that key?"
The key, I remembered with a thud to my chest. The key that Kodlak had passed me moments before the Silver Hand had descended upon Jorrvaskr. He had ordered me to go, and when I had refused, he had insisted I lock myself in his room, and handed me his key.
Those had been the last words he had spoken to me. And now, his key was to be mine.
I closed my eyes and took a deep, steadying breath. My control was already stretched thin, and the reminder of that horrible evening shook at the thin barrier like a howling thunderstorm against the last leaf on a tree.
We're back to being a tree? Focus, I commanded. I had to allow logic to rule or I would crumble. Being given the Harbinger's quarters was a great privilege, given I was not Harbinger! There was no point in turning Kodlak's room into a shrine unto his memory. Doing so would be a degradation; he would not have wished it, and it would prevent the Companions from moving forward, as Vilkas had mentioned in his...
Oh, I realised, opening my eyes as Tilma found the key and passed it to me.
"Here it is. You may do the honour, my dear," she smiled kindly. "Mind what I said earlier, though. It is clean, but there isn't much else to it."
I stared down at the small, simple iron key in my open palm. Vilkas had asked Tilma to ready Kodlak's room for me; that's what he'd been talking to her about after the announcement. Despite the unparalleled depth of their kinship, and his right to the room as our next leader, instead of taking the Harbinger's room for himself, he had opted to remain where he was. Why?
Perhaps he feels as you do, and is uneasy about moving to Kodlak's room.
Perhaps. But I doubted it. If Vilkas thought the room would make me uncomfortable, he would have taken it for himself in a heartbeat. It was more likely he had done it because he had found me lingering outside of the room the previous night, distracting myself with Kodlak's memories. Perhaps this was all part of moving forward.
Tilma was still talking. "I do understand this might be difficult for you, dear, but Master Whitemane had quite the soft spot for you. I am sure he would have wanted it this way."
"Thank you," I whipped my head up, realising I hadn't spoken for some time. Stepping forward and turning the key in the lock hastily, I added, "I'm sure you are right."
The door opened, sliding smoothly over the flagstones. The warm glow within was soft and inviting.
"There now. Well dear, I shall leave you to it," Tilma sighed, turning to leave. "If you would like anything added, you just give me a list of what you need."
I thanked her again and watched her depart. She was distracted by a cluttered bookshelf at the end of the hallway, and set about tidying it.
Turning back to look into Kodlak's – my – room, I delayed no further.
I stepped within, holding my breath.
My first impression brought relief; it did not look like a room that belonged to my former Harbinger. It was exceedingly generic and simple. It must have been Tilma's doing, and I was grateful for her discretion.
Lanterns had been lit and fluttered on a tall, dark iron stand in the far corner of the room, and beside that stood a bookshelf with drawers at its base. The shelves were empty, but for a white ceramic bowl and jug, used for washing. The double bed, dressed in crisp ivory sheets, sea-blue woollen blankets and plump pillows took up the majority of the room. It was positioned on a large, burgundy rug woven with amber threads, flanked by a small bedside table and with a storage chest at its end. The only wall furnishings were a couple of tapestries either side of the bed, similar to those that adorned the mead hall's high ceilings; all reds and golds with Wuuthrad embroidered in the middle.
Unstrapping my lute, I set it on top of the chest, and then sat on the bed, glancing between the clean, simple room, and the key in my palm. Momentarily, obscurely, I regretted the blank-canvas nature after all. It seemed I had hoped, as much as I had feared, that it would remind me of Kodlak.
Huffing a frustrated sigh, because apparently there was no pleasing me, I flopped back onto the bed with my legs dangling over the edge, and stared at the ceiling. The wooden supports criss-crossed the stone roof, and a traditional horned chandelier hung from its centre, also lit. The jolly little flames washed the ceiling with dancing light and shadows.
For a time I just lay there, trying to push thoughts from my mind as they entered to rouse or torment me. Eventually, I began to feel cold. I sat up and decided it was time for bed. I had not slept for two days now, as I'd been unable to rest the previous night. Lydia knew I meant to stay in Jorrvaskr tonight, though I had assumed I would sleep in the whelps' room, but nevertheless, there was no need to send her a note.
On impulse, I ducked out of Kodlak's room to grab his journal, then returned to the new room, locking the door behind me. I had no night clothes with me, and the drawers were empty, but I had bathed before dinner. I extinguished the lanterns but left the chandelier lit so I could read, then threw off my overdress, ducking under the blankets and sheets in my undershirt and leggings.
I lay on my side, resting on my elbow as I flicked through Kodlak's journal to find my last place.
The room could use some plants, I thought idly. And maybe somewhere nice to display my lute. A cabinet, or a mount on the wall.
Realising what I was doing, I shook my head at myself. Was I honestly considering moving in? I now had three rooms in Whiterun. This one, unlike the other two, was asking to be given a personality.
But was I going to be spending much time here? I would have a week at most. A week, Vilkas had said, and they would be returned, and we would leave for Windhelm.
And then, High Hrothgar, I prompted.
I shuddered, perhaps out of habit, but there was no dread behind it for the first time since the Greybeards had called me. I felt only a sense of dull futility, but it wasn't because of what might be waiting for me there. By the time I left for High Hrothgar, I would know the truth about Hadvar and Giselle.
I found my place in the journal. Shoving all else from my mind, I read for as long as my eyes would remain open.
It wasn't long.
–
The days passed and I worked hard to distract myself from wondering over my friends and family. My schedule shuffled and I adjusted into a more relaxed routine. I spent my days at Jorrvaskr training and managing the accounts, sweeping into Dragonsreach once the sun had set with time enough to bathe and dress for dinner. Once the Jarl had dismissed me for the night, I would return to the mead hall to play and sing for my shield-siblings, and for myself. I would retire to my new quarters, with Kodlak's journal in my arms, and read until I fell asleep.
My desire to know the other Companions of Jorrvaskr was a work in progress, but I was slowly finding my way. Athis had been the easiest to grow comfortable with, and I found another opportunity with him on the third day after the Circle had left.
"It was horrible," Athis crashed into the chair opposite me, leaning back and stretching his legs so his feet crossed on the table between us. "The woman was insufferable, droning on about the state her cabbages would be in when she got home. Who kidnaps a cabbage farmer for ransom? It's not like they're drowning in money," he droned.
I arched an eyebrow but said nothing, marking his job as complete and counting out his gold.
"Why not kidnap a noble's son, hmm? Give me someone pretty and pleasant to look at on the journey home," he inspected his fingernails with a frown.
"Hmm," I tried to quell my amusement. "I suspect noble sons are a little more difficult to kidnap, what with their hired bodyguards. Bandits tend to take the easier option," I held his cut of the payment out.
"Yeah, well," Athis scoffed, then sat up properly to collect it. He tossed the little coin purse into the air and caught it with a grin. "Lot of good it did them. They don't have the arms to be trying that again."
"I'm glad to hear your mission was a success, and the woman is safe," I smiled, trying to divert him before he launched into precisely how he had dealt with the bandits. "Her husband was distraught when he came in yesterday."
"Husband, you say?" Athis leaned forward, resting his elbow on the table and arching an eyebrow. "Tell me more."
Laughing, I rolled my eyes. "Yes, husband. Down boy."
Leaning back in the chair with a grin to the roof, he shook his head. "Ah, you're right. Wouldn't want to inadvertently challenge that wild boar of his to a duel. She'd talk until my ears bled, before I landed a punch."
Hand to hand combat, I was reminded suddenly of his speciality. I could do that.
I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the table now. "So. Back from an insufferable job. What's next for you, Athis?"
The Dunmer shrugged. "Any more contracts about? They day is young."
"Well," I glanced down at the accounts book. Did I want to learn hand-to-hand combat? Was there any point in it? I couldn't exactly run across the plains and punch a dragon, could I?
Regardless, I convinced myself. It will give you time to get to know him.
"I have a job for you, if you're interested," I looked up, wondering if he'd find the idea of training me 'insufferable'. I would have to make it worth his while.
"Oh?"
I closed the accounts book and sat back, observing him. "How would you like to make a quick 100 gold?"
"Depends on the job," he murmured dryly.
I smiled. "I'll pay you 100 septims to teach me some hand-to-hand basics."
"Hand-to-hand?" Athis eyed me up and down. "You?"
"Yes, me," I retorted, meeting his garnet eyes. "I'm interested, if you would teach me."
He seemed baffled into silence for a moment, before he uttered, "And, you'll pay me to teach you?"
"That's what I said," I replied loftily, rising and motioning toward the training yard.
Athis hesitated, then shrugged and came to meet me.
We began to take lessons together, though there was no set time or day, as he was away often on contracts. He took 100 gold for the first few sessions, and on the fourth session, waved me away when I tried to pay him, scoffing that it was insulting. The matter of payment didn't arise again.
Hand-to-hand combat was more graceful than I thought it would be. Athis taught me how to kick and punch in a way that focused on balance, which I was surprised to find allowed me to properly throw weight into my strikes. He told me that, over time, I could become the only weapon I would ever need.
I had laughed – it was difficult to consider myself a weapon.
He was a very different teacher to Farkas, Vilkas and even Aela, though my time with her had been fleeting. Athis was far less strict and intense, and I felt no real sense of authority from him. Everything about our sessions was casual, and I supposed this was what it was to train with a Companion who wasn't a werewolf.
Until I started training with Njada.
Coming up on the end of the week at about an hour past nood, Athis and I were finishing up a training session in the yard. The day was dry and cold; snow was expected that night.
"Why are you teaching her the dragon, you idiot?" Njada called out from the verandah, surprising us both.
Athis held up a hand for me to stop as his attention snapped to the Nord woman. "Who do you think she'll be fighting out there?"
I glanced at the fierce woman, wondering why she was taking any interest in us; everyone had been ignoring our sessions. She was seated in the shadows on one of the bench seats that ran along side the verandah, holding a bottle of ale.
She seemed unimpressed. "The names are figurative," she drawled. "If she tries to dragon-punch a dragon, she's going to get fried."
"I don't plan on trying to anything-punch a dragon," I murmured with a sideways glance at Athis.
Athis panted a little, placing his hands on his hips and squinting at the sun. "You're an expert in fighting dragons now, are you?" he asked the woman.
Njada snorted. "And you are?"
They really knew how to push each other's buttons; Athis pinked under his dark skin. He indicated me swiftly, but addressed Njada. "The girl wants to know how to fight, so I'm teaching her-"
"-how to get smashed, I can see that," Njada finished stonily, rising and walking toward us; her steps lazy.
"Speaking of which," Athis rolled his eyes, huffing as she drew to a halt before us.
She pointed toward me with her ale, and gratefully, she spoke to me, not about me. "He's teaching you to hit, sure, but he's using his technique, which is," she added quickly with a pointed glance at Athis as he tried to interject, "based on the assumption that one hit will be all it takes to floor his opponent."
"That's not what I assume," Athis grated loftily, crossing his arms. "There's nothing wrong with a strong, confident offence-" he shrugged at me.
"Only, there is," Njada cut in with a smirk, "when you have no plan by way of defence to counter opponents," she raised an eyebrow pointedly. "If you hit someone, they are going to hit back, you know."
"I see," Athis drawled loftily, sarcastically, sweeping down into an elaborate bow. "Then pray, teach both of us how to fight, o' wise one."
"I'd teach you to block first," Njada crossed her arms, her narrowed eyes assessing as they flit over me. "Your best chance will be to block whatever's thrown at you, kick 'em in the balls, and run away."
"Run away!" Athis scoffed. "Who are you, and what have you done with Njada?"
The Nord snapped to him. "I said her best chance. Training the Dragonborn isn't about teaching her how you would approach things."
"So you'd have Celeste kick a dragon in the balls-"
"If it was that or die, yes!"
I took a step back, hoping I could escape before they fell to brawling again.
But then I remembered I was a member of the Circle, and besides not wanting my shield-siblings to brain each other, because I was trying to become better friends with them, it wouldn't be good for business if two of the remaining, most active members were out of action on my watch. They were both scheduled to leave on contracts in the morning, and I didn't want to have to try and convince Torvar to fulfil them both.
"All right," I stepped between them, laughing a little and holding out my hands; one to each of their chests. "I get it. There's a really simple way to settle this," I turned to look Njada in the eye, for the first time ever. She had vertical scars running the length of her left cheek, and her fierce amber eyes were lined with dark kohl. In them, I saw only indefatigable guardedness.
I made myself smile. "Teach me?"
"But I'm teaching you," Athis grumbled.
"Both of you," I flicked the Dunmer a glance, maintaining my hopeful smile. "I knew nothing when I came to the Companions, and I am willing to learn whatever both of you will impart upon me."
Njada seemed as wary as ever, so I added a hasty, "I can pay you, of course-"
"Don't be ridiculous," she muttered, "Companions don't charge each other for training."
Athis coughed and withdrew as Njada turned fully toward me, and held out her hand. "I think I can teach you a trick or two, shield-sister."
I grasped her hand and shook on it; surprised when her handshake didn't crush my fingers. "Great."
"If you're occupied for the afternoon then, I might," Athis cleared his throat. He motioned toward the mead hall, and chose not to finish his sentence.
I nodded. "Thanks for today. Continue tomorrow, after you get back?"
"Sure, sure," he bounded up the stairs hastily and disappeared inside.
Njada huffed. "The man knows when he's beat," she remarked dryly. "All right," she grew louder and more purposeful all at once. "Let's take a look at you."
I hid the smile tickling me over Athis' departure; he'd not wanted Njada to learn I had paid him to teach me.
Njada's style could be compared to that of an army general, or at least, what I expected of one; curt, simple, repetitive, and with no room for error. I had to concentrate; really concentrate on the stances, arm, leg, and body movements. I would shadow her at first, then she would stand back and observe as I repeated the forms again and again and again, until eventually, as the sun set, I excused myself and rushed to Dragonsreach to prepare for dinner.
Training with both Athis and Njada was going to be demanding, but I felt a little excited by the challenge.
That night, when I retreated to my room in Jorrvaskr after my nightly performance, ready for some reading before bed, there were a new pair of arm bracers on the bedside table next to Kodlak's journal, and a coin purse.
I lifted my lute off my shoulders, frowning down at the bracers, and picked one up, inspecting it. They were brand new, made of a stained leather and with the price still tied to one of the tiny golden buckles.
Turning the little tag over, I realised that it wasn't the price tag, but a gift tag.
Punch them in the balls, it read.
I snorted, and the warm amusement stayed with me as I read over the next passage in Kodlak's journal. When I decided to sleep, with a flutter of excitement I realised a week had passed since Farkas, Vilkas and Aela had left, and that they might step into Jorrvaskr at any moment.
Assuring myself that somebody would wake me if they did, I drifted off, feeling bright with the hope I had been convincing myself to believe in since Erthos had returned with the General's letter.
–
It snowed that night, as had been expected. The Circle returned with it, but nobody woke me.
The first I knew of their arrival was when I trudged upstairs to take breakfast and spied a familiar red-haired warrior woman sitting alone at the mead hall table, staring into the flames of the hearth.
"Aela!" I squeaked; my eyes widened as I rushed toward her, dismissing the animosity that had always existed between us.
The Nord's eyes remained fixed on the flames, but I heard her sigh as I halted next to her.
"Is Kodlak's-?"
"Yes," she cut me off coldly. "It is done, and he has gone to Sovngarde."
I breathed a sigh of relief, glancing up and laughing to the ceiling. All his research, all their hard work – it had worked. The cure had worked.
"And the twins?" I glanced back hurriedly. "Did they-?"
The sound of wood scraping against flagstones cut me off as Aela pushed her chair back and rose, finally turning to look at me. "Kodlak named you Harbinger."
I stared at the woman, my mouth half-open, frozen in the form of what I had been about to say. Was she...joking? Why? Why would she joke about such a thing?
Her green eyes, their golden sheen confirming what I had known; she would not cure herself; bore into my soul, accusing as I had ever perceived them. Heat radiated from her form; the fire of anger, resonating deep within her.
This was wrong. Their return was supposed to be a happy moment. We had all been looking forward to it!
In the silence that lengthened between us, I pinched my arm to make sure I was not stuck in some bizarre nightmare.
"How did you do it?" her tone was quiet, and a little...hurt?
I flinched.
"And why did you enrapture their wolves?" she didn't wait for me to respond. "Are their lives a game to you? You'll never stay with us and it will destroy them. Is that what you want?"
Finally, I closed my mouth, unable to summon words to answer with. What had happened at Ysgramor's tomb?
"Kodlak knew you would leave, too," Aela continued, her voice rising as she progressed. "So why – why would he name you as his successor?"
"I have no idea," I snapped, shaking my head with vehemence. "And you're wrong. Vilkas is Harbinger."
"Vilkas will bow down on one knee to you, just like the rest of them will," Aela snorted, turning away.
"Where is he?" I called out desperately. "Are they cured-?"
"Ask them yourself," she cut me off for a final time, before she swept out of Jorrvaskr.
I told myself that it was the wind that slammed the door behind her. I jumped at the sound, and the startle spurred me into action.
Forgetting breakfast, I dashed downstairs.
This must have been Aela's idea of a joke. Farkas and Vilkas would be in their rooms, possibly even asleep, and Vilkas would laugh when I told him what Aela had said. Maybe this was how they welcomed new members to the Circle.
I rapped against the wooden door urgently. "Are you awake?" I called, trying the handle.
I heard shuffling from within, and after a moment, a key turned in the lock.
A tired-looking Vilkas drew the door back slowly, his dark hair falling over his face. He did not appear to be in a joking mood, either.
"Is it true?" I dispensed with the pleasantries as sharp panic assailed me. I clasped my hands together to keep from fidgeting. My mind raced; I couldn't be Harbinger to the Companions – I had no idea what was involved, and I could not remain at Jorrvaskr much longer, regardless of where I wanted to be.
Vilkas pushed his hair back and sighed wearily. He met my eyes; the silver still bore that otherworldly sheen I had never expected to see again, full of shame.
He said nothing, just held my gaze, not needing to tell me that things had not gone as planned. It was writ all over his face. He was still a werewolf.
Unconsciously, my hand flew to my mouth to smother a gasp. Devastation and questions crushed me. Had it only worked for Kodlak? Was he stuck this way until he died? Had he chosen not to cure himself for some reason?
"Oh Vilkas," was all I could whisper, in fear and horror. My hand shook as I reached for him.
He watched my hand, frozen to the spot, but before my fingertips could brush his cheek he looked away, cleared his throat and stepped back, opening the door wider. "You had better come in," he murmured.
I took a step toward him. He met my eyes fleetingly as he added, in a quiet tone; "Harbinger."
A/n: I always found it frustrating that the player character was named Harbinger when it was clear who should have been.
So sorry for the huge delay. Work is hectic. It may be another month or two before I can update again unfortunately. Hope you're still with me because I would much rather be writing this, I assure you!