"Don't worry, child, it's almost healed…"
Haldis leaned against the warmth of Danica's healing magic as she sealed the deep gash in her forehead.
"I guess that's the last time I go into battle without knowing what I'm doing…" she mumbled. Danica chuckled a little.
"I think that would be best." She withdrew her hand when the healing was done, so Haldis gave her the money she owed. She was glad that both Lucan and Balgruuf were very generous in paying her for her work in Bleak Falls Barrow.
"Is there anyone in Whiterun who can teach me how to fight?"
Danica snorted. "A sweet thing like you has no place on the battlefield to begin with," she said. "but if you insist, rumor is that the Companions are looking for recruits. In exchange for work, I'm sure they'd be glad to train you." Haldis hummed, then frowned.
"Companions? Are you talking about Ysgramor's army?" she asked.
Danica nodded as she counted the money. "Aye. They were here before Whiterun was a city. I'm sure you've seen their hall, Jorrvaskr, on the far end of the Wind District. Ysgramor's generals used the boat they sailed to build the roof, just like the Atmorans did all those years ago." She opened the little coinpurse attached to her hip to deposit her money, then rubbed her hands together. "Is there anything else you need?"
Haldis stood up from the cot with a shake of her head.
"No, thank you."
Danica gave her a little bow and started out of the room. "Grace of Kynareth be with you."
Haldis left Kynareth's temple, not without a fresh scar on her temple. She rubbed at it, for it still itched from healing, and looked to the north of the temple to the mead hall on the other side of the district. Ysgramor's Companions, from the stories she'd read, seemed like a decent sort. They would have been the worst place in Skyrim to start with.
Or so she thought, until the moment she walked in and nearly got caught in a fight between a woman and the Dunmer she was beating the snot out of. Haldis stumbled past them, then looked out at the rest of the hall's inhabitants to see if they were going to do anything.
They were certainly doing something; laughing and cheering and egging the woman on.
The Dunmer's body was suddenly thrown against Haldis's leg, to which she jumped and staggered out of the way.
"Umm…"
The Dunmer snorted some blood out of his nose, got back up, and went hauling right back to his opponent.
"Teach you to steal my food, greyskin!"
"Learn to guard it better, you pile of kwama shit!"
While they were trying to kill each other, Haldis padded down the stairs to where the other inhabitants were spectating the brawl as if it were a fine gentleman's sport. She walked up to one of them, a one-eyed, bald man in what appeared to be plate armor with a kilt, and tried to beckon him with a "sir?", to no avail, for he seemed too occupied with critiquing the performance of the two fighters that now rolled around on the floor. She just resorted to tapping on his shoulder to get his attention, which worked, only to earn her a sharp glance.
"Huh?" He squinted. "I ain't never seen you around before. What's your business here?"
That grisly blind eye made Haldis shiver in her breeches, but she didn't let that hamper her response. "I want to join the Companion. Is there a leader here I can speak to, or-"
"We don't have a 'leader' here, girl," he grumbled. "but Kodlak is the one who makes the big decisions. If you wanna join, you're gonna have to talk to him." He then looked Haldis's disshevled self up and down with a smirk. "And it looks to me like you're gonna have some suckin' up to do." Haldis scowled a little, but made no comment. Not worth the trouble.
Rinik bruniik...
The man, who introduced himself as Skjor, pointed to a set of stairs leading down to the berthing where the mercenaries slept. In spite of how barbaric the residents of the hall were, the place was kept neatly. The wood wasn't rotted, there wasn't a speck of dust on the furniture, and all the red carpets lining the halls of the barracks were completely stainless. She followed the main hallway down to the end, as she'd been instructed, to a room with its door ajar.
There was humming from a soft voice coming from within that she could hear when she stopped to knock. She listened for a moment, then rapped her knuckles on the frame. The humming stopped.
"Come in."
She took a deep breath and opened the door. Standing in the middle of the room was a rather old man, Nord with a neatly-trimmed, silvery beard with long, white hair to match. He was dressed casually, for it was getting to be evening now, but in spite of his age, he didn't need armor to bulk himself up, for he was very muscular. His face was still, perfectly composed, as he beheld the newcomer at the door.
"May I help you?" he inquired, his arms clasped behind his back. His voice was as soft as the Monahven's powdered snow, so quiet she had to strain to hear him speak. Haldis stepped into the room and nudged the door shut with her foot.
"Are you Kodlak Whiteman?" He nodded once. "My name is Haldis, I… I'm interested in joining the Companions." That came out way too much like a question. A pause. "If you'd let me, that is." He smiled a little bit.
"I might consider it," he uttered. "I would like to know why for. A nervous lass like you doesn't seem like the type to fit into a mercenary band."
Haldis had to take a moment to think of her wording. "Well…" She looked at the ceiling. "It's hard to explain, so I won't beat around the bush: I'm a Dragonborn," Kodlak's eyes widened, "...and if I'm going to deal with the dragons like I'm supposed to, I need to be able to fight." He took a step closer to the door.
"A Dragonborn ?" he repeated. "I thought the last of the Dragonborns died during the Oblivion Crisis, two hundred years ago..." He then thought for a moment. "Though, I'd believe it, what with the dragons returning." He composed himself again. "How experienced are you?"
"In battle?" Haldis swallowed. "I'll admit, I was trained to Shout by the greatest Tongues in the world, but I don't know the first thing about actual fighting." Kodlak's smile returned to him.
"I appreciate your honesty, lass." He gestured to the set of chairs he had in the corner of the room. "Why don't you come and sit so we can discuss this properly?"
And so they sat, and they talked.
Haldis briefly described to him what had transpired since Alduin emerged, her conversation with Balgruuf, the disastrous operation in retrieving the Dragonstone that made her realize she was completely ignorant, even showed the new scar on her forehead, which he looked upon with an amused snort.
"I won't stand a chance against the sons of Akatosh if I can't even handle a common spider," she finished, then frantically, "Please, I need the training. I'll work for free-" Kodlak stopped her with a raise of his hand.
"You need to calm yourself, lass," he murmured. "I'd be honored to accept a Dragonborn into our fold. I'll speak to the members of the Inner Circle tonight. But let me make it clear now that you will be treated no differently, regardless of your birthright."
Haldis nodded vigorously in agreement. "Absolutely." She paused to think for a moment. "I think we should keep it between us for now.
He hummed. "Well then," he stood up and offered a hand to help Haldis to get up. "It's getting late. I'll show you to where you may rest your head for the night. I will bring you the Circle's judgement in the morning." Haldis took his hand and rose up to follow him back down the hallway.
He led her to one of the berthing units with free space and pointed her to a bed unadorned by personal belongings.
"You may rest here for the night. If any of the others bother you, don't mind them." He then chuckled. "They're all quite headstrong and eager for new recruits. Show no fear, and you'll do well." Haldis gave him a little smile.
"Thank you."
Haldis just decided to go to bed early that night, not exactly keen to meet her new brothers in arms. After seeing that woman beat the everloving daylights out of that poor Dunmer, it seemed the stories of Ysgramor and the original Five-Hundred were greatly exaggerated.
She headed up to the main hall when one of Jorrvaskr's ancient maids, Tilma, called the mercenaries up for breakfast. There, the whole band was displayed in front of her at the long table that stood before the hearth. How only a handful of tiny old women could make such a copious amount of food was beyond Haldis's understanding. She didn't eat. Ever since Bleak Falls Barrow, her nerves were completely and utterly jangled, made her feel so sick to her stomach that even drinking water made her retch.
So, she simply watched from the steps leading from the door down into the main hall, perched patiently in the warmth of the fire. She didn't catch many names, but the faces were certainly diverse; there was the barbarian woman from yesterday with a young Imperial girl gabbing at her side. There was the Dunmer, too, his face mildly swollen with a patch of his beard missing, who sat with a shabby swordsman with a crusty-looking beard. And there was a ginger woman with the remnants of green warpaint on her face who was paired up closely with Skjor at the end of the table. In the corner, at a smaller table for two, there was an old man with a leathery, tanned face sat with a much younger counterpart who was helping him eat his porridge.
Kodlak was missing from the table, as Haldis noticed, only to see him and two other men emerge from the berthing. He looked around, saw her, gestured to her, then pointed to the door that led out to the rear yard. He and his two followers then exited through those doors, and Haldis jogged around the table to catch up.
The training yard stood behind Jorrvaskr in an expansive space of cobble overlooking the Whiterun Plains and river. Various dummies and archery targets were set up along the edges, as well as weapon racks. Above the hall stood what Haldis figured to be the fabled "Skyforge," a massive forge with a statue of a hawk watching over it. She remembered reading about it in one of The Songs of the Return tomes she had lying around High Hrothgar. She hummed, then stepped down into the training field where Kodlak stood with the two men on either side of him.
Now that Haldis had gotten a look at them, the two men were nearly identical to each other; twins, no doubt. Each had a head of thick, dark hair, and faces lain with stubble. While equal in height, the one on the right was considerably bulkier than the other, with thick, muscular arms riddled with scars. His hair was a tad unkempt and his beard was growing out a little. The one on the left was smaller, but by no means weak, rather lean and strong. He was put together more neatly overall, his hair well-brushed and his face without a hint of razor burn. Those sharp, steely eyes flicked over her, studying her, scornful. The bigger of the twins just folded his arms and tapped his foot.
"Haldis," Kodlak elected. He looked to the one on the right, who rolled his shoulders, "This is Farkas," then to the left, who dipped his head, "and this is Vilkas. They will be your teachers. Vilkas specializes in the use of swords and axes, and Farkas in armor and heavier swordplay." He then laughed. "I wish you luck in not getting them mixed up!"
He patted Farkas's shoulder, then went pacing back towards Jorrvaskr's doors. Haldis watched after him until he disappeared inside.
"The old man wanted us to have a look at you." Haldis felt her fingers go cold, and she turned to look to the twin that spoke. It was Vilkas.
"And… that means...?"
Farkas snorted. "He meant he wanted to know how good you fight."
Vilkas jabbed him in the arm with a sharp elbow. "How well you fight. If we are going to teach you, we need to know how experienced you are and where to start." He pointed to the axe on Haldis's hip. "How well can you use that axe?" Haldis looked at it, and she bit her lip.
"Not very well at all."
Vilkas's brow knitted. "Then we start with the very basics." He drew his sword. "Come out here and let me see your form." Haldis followed his gesture to stand out more in the middle of the training yard, and she pulled her axe up out of its hitch. Farkas stepped out of the way to allow them more space.
Haldis sort of stood there with her axe's head raised up to her shoulder, staring Vilkas down, waiting for him to move. He watched. Then he darted to the side. Haldis stepped back, raised her axe in a pathetic parry that just barely swept his sword to the side.
"Come on!" he roared. He took another jab at her that she was just able to block. The shock vibrated up her arms and made her bones wobble. She took another stride backward. "Don't run off, woman! Fight back!" He dealt blow after blow after blow, each one she was able to block with increasingly weakening arms.
He geared up, the muscles in his arms and neck visibly tensing. Haldis felt her Thu'um clawing at the back of her throat. She held it down, and went with her next instinct; she lowered her head and barreled into Vilkas's chest with her shoulder to knock him off balance.
He staggered back with an estranged look on his face. He sighed, and he lowered his weapon.
He mumbled something under his breath, shaking his head, then gestured for her to lower her weapon. "Your stance is…" His nose wrinkled up. " atrocious." Haldis's expression soured. "To add to that, you're already winded. If this was a real fight, you'd be dead. You're not ready for combat training, yet, that much is obvious. You need to get in shape first." He looked over at his brother, who was lounging on the porch. "Farkas, I'll leave that to you. Give her the usual treatment for the newbloods and get her fit."
Farkas got up from where he was sitting to stroll down into the yard to switch places with Vilkas. "Sounds good, brother." Haldis found herself shrinking back when he approached. He towered over her by more than a head, and had a massive sword strapped to his back, which he hauled up to perch on his shoulder. Haldis's innards churned; if she could barely handle Vilkas's shortsword with her puny axe, there was no way she could deflect a blow from a zweihander.
Farkas must've seen her concerned expression, for he smiled crookedly.
"Don't worry, the fighting's over." With that said, he heaved his sword off his shoulder to hand to her. Haldis took the handle, only to double over with a grunt from the sudden weight. She, by some miracle and with some serious struggling, managed to haul it up to lean on her shoulder.
" How -" she wheezed, " How do you carry this?!"
He started laughing. "It'll get easier, I promise. Now, hold that sword out with one hand and start swingin' it." She gawked at him. One arm? If she could barely hold it up with two, how in Oblivion was she supposed to lug that thing around with one? Regardless, she took a deep breath and started to lift it up from her shoulder with her right arm. Every striation of muscle in her arm, chest, and upper back strained so hard to keep it upright, some unconscious part of her feared she'd tear something.
She took a heavy lurch forward, just barely catching it before the tip of the blade could hit the ground. The tendons in the crook of her arm were on fire.
Farkas nodded. "Alright, again." She groaned as she picked it back up, then lashed it back out.
Every rep had her muscles screaming for a break, but she bit her tongue and didn't complain. After fifteen reps with her right arm, Farkas had her switch over to her left.
"You're gonna hurt yourself if you don't keep it even," he warned. "And you don't want that, because the Companions don't take breaks."
Haldis thought she was going to faint.