.

Keljarn

The Silver Hand

Jorrvaskr

"You awake, new blood?"

"I am now."

The hangover wasn't as bad as it had been the day before, but there was still a faintly throbbing sensation in the back of his head, and a cork dry feeling in his mouth, which tasted like the inside of a carriage driver's glove. There had been mead yesterday night, when they'd come back to show off the Wuuthrad fragment they'd found, and while Farkas had drunken himself into a total stupor, Keljarn had remembered to practice at least some moderation, and he was glad he had. No puddle of puke next to his bed, no head-smashing hangover, no nausea or dizziness, just a bit of a headache, a dry mouth and a lot of tiredness.

Skjor stood in the doorway, looking considerably less mocking than the day before. Keljarn only half-noticed he hadn't been called milk drinker this time. Seemed like he'd made an impression.

"Come on, there's something important we need to discuss," the man said, then added, "But not here. Come to the Underforge."

Keljarn sat on the edge of the bed, scratching his head. "The what?" he asked, but Skjor had already turned around and gone into the hallway.

It was just past dawn, probably. It was hard to tell underground, but Keljarn suspected these people didn't want him to delay. He threw on his clothes, smelly as they were, buckled his weapon belt and trudged out of his room, grinning at the monstrously heavy snoring sounds that came from Farkas' room.

No one was around in the mead hall, but the light coming through the cracks between the wood made it clear that it was, indeed, just past dawn. Damn that old geezer for waking him up so early.

A door creaked and Ria, the friendly Cyrodiilic girl trotted in, carrying a basket of bread.

"Morning, Ria," Keljarn croaked.

"Oh, good morning."

Even tired as he was, Keljarn noticed that she didn't address him by his rank, which was currently apprentice. That could mean she'd either lost her previous good manners, or it could mean something else. "Are congratulations in order?" he asked, hoping he wasn't wrong.

The girl's beaming smile told him he wasn't. "It's no big deal," the girl said, but she looked about to burst with pride.

"Yes it is," Keljarn told her, stepping toward her, taking her by the shoulders and giving her three well-deserved kisses on the cheek. "Congratulations, apprentice."

"Ooh," the girl laughed nervously, turning beet-red and looking away. "It's r-really not that special."

"Stop saying that. You can be proud of yourself. I bet Njada was angry as a bullwhipped dremora though?"

"She was... not very happy."

"If she's smart," Keljarn said, "she'll learn from it and apply herself more seriously from now on."

The girl stood a head smaller than Keljarn, but she still looked up at him and said, "She does put in a lot of effort, you know."

Keljarn shook his head. "I'm sure she does, but that's not what I meant. I've only been here for two days, but even in that short time, I've learned that the Companions value a cooperative attitude just as much as a strong arm."

"It's... not my place to judge her," Ria said, but Keljarn wouldn't have that.

"Yes it is. You're an apprentice now, she's an initiate."

The girl gave another nervous chuckle and conceded, "Well... maybe I'll tell her to go fetch some mead tonight."

Keljarn clapped her on the shoulder. "Good!" Then he asked, "Say, you have any idea where the Underforge is?"

The girl blinked in surprise. "No, but... did they invite you there?"

"Well, 'invite'..." Keljarn said. "They told me I had to be there, yes."

What little pride had shown in the girl's demeanour promptly vanished again and she returned to her humble self. "I don't know where it is, but... well... people who are called to the Underforge, they come out... different somehow. Or so I'm told."

"Hm. Different in a bad way?"

"No, no... I'd only just joined when Farkas and Vilkas went to the Underforge, two years ago, and they're still the same, just... different. I don't know how to explain it. I doubt it's bad though, since they were seen as equals by Aela and Skjor from then on."

"Huh. So I guess it's good news then."

She smiled nervously. "I hope so, yes."

Footsteps came from Jorrvaskr's lower level, and Aela emerged, dressed in simple furs, without face paint this time. Keljarn guessed it was too early for even Aela to spend time on warpaint. She looked less feral but no less breathtaking.

"Morning, Companion," Ria greeted the huntress with a humble bow.

"Morning, apprentices," Aela said to them both, though a wink at Keljarn told him Ria's hunch had been accurate and he probably wouldn't be an apprentice for long. By the Nine, he was making a career so fast even Ria would get green with envy if he didn't tone it down a notch.

"Morning, Aela. Hey, you wouldn't happen to know where the Underforge is, would you?"

She smiled mysteriously. "Of course I know. I need you for something else first, though."

"Oh?"

She flung herself down at a table. "I'll explain in a minute. Sit down you two, have a damn drink. Chomp some bread. Can't start a work day on an empty stomach."

"Truer words," Keljarn agreed, and sat down beside her.

"Ria, would you mind getting us a jug of berry juice and a basket of bread?"

Not an order this time, but a question. The girl had earned that much. With a smile, she said, "Of course, companion," and scooted off toward the kitchen.

Looking at her go, Aela nodded and said, "Knew it was a good idea to make her apprentice."

"Humbly in agreement, yes," Keljarn said to that. "Always a good sign when people get promoted and don't change a bit."

"Exactly. So," Aela said. "While Ria is gone..."

"Mm?"

"You retrieved a fragment of Wuuthrad. That's no small feat."

Keljarn began to laugh it off and said, "Well, Farkas did all the w – "

"Farkas spoke very highly of your contribution," Aela interrupted him gently. "I know this might seem a little strange to you, but we've talked it through and we feel you're ready to become a Companion."

"Wh... I... a Companion?" Keljarn stammered, overcome by the offer. "Isn't that a bit early?"

Aela shrugged. "Only if you think it is. We're seeing Kodlak after breakfast. He has the final say, and he has to deem you worthy, but honestly, I think that's a formality. You were born to be in the Companions."

The acknowledgment sent a flush of warmth through him. "Well, I'm... overwhelmed." He knew better than to second-guess the Companions. If they felt he was worthy, then worthy he was.

"It's well-deserved," Aela said with a shrug. "Here comes Ria, let's keep this quiet until it's official."

"Sure."

They ate their breakfast while talking about all sorts of things, mostly Ria asking Keljarn all the details about the Wuuthrad fragment quest ("By Azura, you brought down a draugr?!") and gushing over how she was looking forward to joining experienced Companions for quests of her own. Keljarn was happy for her, and she deserved it, but he couldn't keep his mind off the fact that they were making him a Companion so soon. He'd only been here a few days, and Ria and Njada, though admittedly less experienced (and less lucky) than him, had to train for months to rise in rank. It was strange, really strange.

The topic shifted to the mer with the elfhawk, Athis, who'd been injured on the day Keljarn arrived in Whiterun. Apparently he was healing rather nicely, but he still needed lots of rest, so he'd been taken home for a while, to recover. The two brothers came up when they'd started breakfast, and eagerly partook, but not before Farkas got Njada out of her bed so she could serve more food and drink. The Nord girl had noticed Ria sitting at the table with the rest of them, put two and two together, and given Ria the vilest, most envious look Keljarn had ever seen. She only had herself to blame.

Skjor joined them last, not saying much, but with every word he said, he had Aela's full attention, and since Keljarn's senses didn't usually deceive him, he was pretty sure a certain ship had sailed for him. Unfortunate.

After breakfast, Aela rose and motioned for Keljarn to do the same. They silently crossed the mead hall and went down the stairs at the other side. "These are Kodlak's quarters. Your last step in becoming a Companion," she said with an encouraging smile.

"So what's this whole Underforge thing about?"

Aela frowned. "I said we'll explain later. First, you see Kodlak. When he approves, you're a Companion."

"So much mystery," Keljarn said with a grin.

"So much impatience," Aela said, grinning back.

Aela knocked on a wooden door and waited. After a few moments, a hoarse voice came through the wood. "Come."

"Your cue, apprentice."

"Right."

Keljarn opened the door and entered the room, finding himself face to face with an old, white-haired man with a long, equally white beard, wearing a suit of reinforced leather armour. Like the two brothers, he was, for want of a better word, abnormally hairy, the silver hair on his arms so thick it was almost fur. Age notwithstanding, the man looked like he could still pull the head off a brown bear. A triangular tattoo adorned his right cheek. "So. You must be Keljarn, our newest addition."

"I am. It's an honour to finally meet you, Harbinger."

The man laughed. "So formal. Please, you've proven yourself enough so I'll spare you the sceptical condescension-act. All of the Companions are in agreement of your talent and skill, even Skjor. And that doesn't happen very often."

"I do my best," Keljarn merely said. What was one supposed to say to such a compliment.

"Indeed." The man fell quiet and scrutinized Keljarn carefully. The silence lasted uncomfortably long, but finally, he said, "You've proven the strength of your arm, and the sharpness of your wit. Welcome, Companion."

Despite being assured by Aela that it was a formality, a wave of relief washed over Keljarn. "Thank you Harbinger. So do I... take orders from you now?"

The man laughed. "No, Companion, I don't give orders. I'm just..." he spread his hands. "... an advisor, of sorts."

"I could use some advice?"

"On?"

"Just... what do I do now?"

He smiled. "You go see your fellow Companions and observe them, learn from them. And you give apprentices the chance to observe you. Learn from you. You'll be fine."

"if you say so."

The old man laughed and slapped his knee. "I do say so. Now, let me just give you one more word of advice."

"Of course?"

"If you get invited to something called the Circle... think long and hard about whether you truly want to be part of it. I can't forbid the others to invite you, and I can't forbid you to join, but think on it. Very carefully and very well. That's all I ask."

"I thought the Companions weren't all that big on mystery?" Keljarn asked. "What's this whole Circle thing?"

Kodlak shook his head. "I can't say, Companion. You must decide for yourself. Just... make the decision carefully."

Well, looked like these people were high on drama after all. Still, Keljarn was never the type to make rash and stupid decisions, and he wasn't about to start now. "I'll be careful, Harbinger."

"All I ask. Now, off with you," he said with a friendly grin.

"Thank you for this honour," Keljarn said, but the man shooed him away, his grin widening. "Thank your fellows for recommending you. I'm sure they have a job for you already."

Indeed they had. The mysterious Underforge. Maybe that had to do with the Circle. He supposed he'd find out soon enough.

He spent the rest of the day training, sparring with Vilkas under the attentive eye of Ria. During the last two hours of training, Vilkas said that since he was a Companion now (which made Ria's eyes almost fall out of their sockets, but thankfully not in a petty or jealous way), he better earn his keep and start training the apprentices. So he did, spending two hours sparring with Ria while Vilkas worked with Njada. It was pretty clear now why the two women were promoted at a far slower pace than he had been. For all her devoted attitude, Ria had very little experience when it came to fighting, which wasn't all that surprising, since she'd spent most of her time observing, and very little time actually handling a weapon. Probably the way the Companions worked, and it was likely to be the same for Njada too, from what he saw. Keljarn wasn't a grizzled veteran, but he'd had quite a bit of training in the local militia, and from there in the mercenary group he'd been part of a few years ago. Inexperienced though Ria was, she applied herself with all her energy, sparring on despite her obvious tiredness and listening intently when Keljarn gave her advice, doing her best to incorporate it as soon as he'd explained.

He spent another hour pitting Ria and Njada against each other, and he had to admit, for all her attitude, Njada had been paying attention during training too, and Ria was outmatched in every match. Still, she was clearly doing her best to incorporate Keljarn's pointers into her fighting style, and it pleased him to see it.

The training had gone on without any incidents, and Keljarn was pleased to see Njada thanking Ria for the opportunity to practice, with Ria thanking her right back. He hoped Njada had learned her lesson and would be presenting herself a little more constructively from now on. The thought made him chuckle as he realized he it made him feel just like an experienced combat trainer, which he wasn't by any means.

Evening fell, and after a light meal of pork, vegetables and mead, Aela sent the two junior members to the sparring ground for clean-up. Farkas stood up and told Keljarn that it was time to go to the Underforge. The other Companions had already left the table.

Keljarn chuckled. "Gladly, if someone would finally tell me where it is?"

"Come on. I'll show you."

They went outside, into the Whiterun night. At the foot of the hill, Keljarn saw torches flicker, people walking to the taverns and mothers calling their children inside for bedtime. He heard the tinks of Adriana Avenicci's hammer, its owner still hard at work. It seemed like an age since he'd stood by her forge, talking about axes.

"Hey, daydreamer?" Farkas called out with a grin. "Come on, this is important."

"Sorry, I'm with you."

"Above, on this hill is the Skyforge," Farkas explained. "Where Eorlund makes his incredible weapons. You should visit it sometime. That axe you've got there is exceptional craftsmanship, but not even Adriana Avenicci can match the miracles Eorlund and the Skyforge can work."

"Yes," Keljarn said. "I really should go take a look."

"You should. But right now, we've got other things to discuss."

Farkas walked to the cobblestone wall at the foot of the Skyforge and inserted the tip of his dagger between two stones. There was a low grating sound, and a door opened, set with cobblestone so it was hidden until it was activated. "I present you, the Underforge," Farkas said, holding out his hand and inviting Keljarn in.

Faint heart never won fair lady and all that, so Keljarn took a breath and stepped inside.

It was dark as the pits in there, but there was just enough light to see that Skjor was there. Vilkas too. Where was Aela though? Maybe she wasn't part of the Circle? No, that couldn't be right. She'd told him about the Underforge. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw a basin in the middle, though he couldn't see if it was filled. The air smelled of metal.

Skjor spoke after Farkas had come in and sealed the door again. "Don't worry," he said. "Aela's here too."

Vilkas nodded. "Aela, step forward, please?"

Keljarn thought his eyes would fall out of their sockets when he heard an animalistic breathing, and a large, hairy monster stepped forward, into the dim light. It was a muscled, hunched humanoid covered with brown fur, its head resembling that of a large wolf, with steel blue eyes, an elongated muzzle and a mouth filled with wicked fangs.

This wasn't... this couldn't be... the colour of that fur... "Aela?"

The creature reacted with a snort. This was the thing Farkas had also turned into. He'd heard of werewolves, but he'd always laughed at the silly myths, same as he'd been sceptical about the draugr, but like those draugr, this... this was real. Right before his eyes. "You're... werewolves?"

Vilkas nodded. "This is the Circle. All Circle members are Companions, but not all Companions are Circle members."

"Is she... dangerous?" Keljarn asked in a tiny voice.

The monster let out a mocking growl.

"Not to you, no," Skjor grinned. "But Talos help anyone who gets in her way."

Keljarn looked back at Farkas. "So when those five attackers fell on us, you..."

"I had to change, yes," Farkas admitted. "You weren't supposed to see this so soon, but it was that or both of us dead."

"Yes, Farkas... hastened the process a little," Vilkas said, a slight tone of chastisement towards his brother in his voice, "but we've discussed it, and we believe inviting you to the Circle is the best thing to do." He shrugged. "Since you already knew, in a way."

"But..." Keljarn protested. "... You're werewolves. I mean... Aren't you supposed to be... bloodthirsty monsters?"

Skjor gave a hoarse laugh. "That's what they tell you, isn't it? Does Aela look like a monster?" He checked himself. "Wait, don't answer that. Does she act like one?"

The Aela-wolf cocked its head at Keljarn, seeming perfectly docile.

"Well, honestly, what I saw from Farkas yesterday was monstrous enough."

Farkas shook his head. "Not monstrous. That was self-defence."

"A being is only monstrous," Vilkas said, "if he has no control over his actions. It's true that we're a terrible force if we bring our might to bear, but the code of honour we have in the Companions applies for the Circle as well. Only in self-defence or against people who deserve it."

"Your axe," Skjor continued, "is a force of destruction as well. But you have just as much control over it as we do over our beast forms. A weapon is only as terrible as its wielder. You don't hate the axe if it commits injustice, you hate the wielder."

"It's not the bow that kills," Farkas said.

"No," Keljarn said. "It's the arrow."

"It's the wielder," Vilkas corrected him with an irritated frown. "No one likes a smart pants."

"So... why are you telling me all this?" Keljarn asked, already hoping for the answer and dreading it just the same.

"You know why," Skjor said. "Our gift is yours if you want it."

So that really was what he was here for. His throat went dry. He knew he had the right to refuse, but he also knew if he did, there would never be a second offer, or a second chance. "Kodlak... Kodlak said to think long and hard on whether I want to accept this."

Farkas snorted. "Of course he did."

Vilkas shot his brother an admonishing look. "Much as we respect and admire Kodlak and his counsel, we..."

"... don't agree on the gift or curse of lycanthropy," Skjor took over. "Kodlak seems to think this is a curse, but we beg to differ." He swept his hand at Aela. "This shape is nothing more than a tool. It doesn't turn you into a madman," he chuckled, "or madwoman. You have increased strength, speed, agility, and there's no cost to pay, no lost sanity, no rampaging by moonlight, no abducting young maidens."

"You might get a little more adventurous. Grow a little more body hair," Farkas said, "And enjoy red meat a bit more." He laughed. "Hardly a curse, is it?"

They were right. They had to be. They hadn't steered him wrong so far, and they all seemed honourable. Even Aela, right now, in the form of a hulking, terrible beast had something noble about her. And this was a one time deal, he knew even though it hadn't been said. "No side effects, right? No insanity? Horrible dreams? Waking up naked and covered in blood?"

"None whatsoever," Skjor said solemnly. "Companion's honour."

Keljarn swallowed. His heart beat hard in his chest. "Can I have a day to think about this?"

Skjor nodded, and the other Companions with him. "It's not an easy decision. You can have one day, but on one condition."

"Let me guess," Keljarn said, relieved that he'd get to think things over for a little longer. "I don't speak of this to anyone?"

Vilkas nodded. "Exactly. Not even Kodlak. Not until you've made your decision. The others, not at all."

"I can keep a secret," Keljarn said with a nod.

"Good," Skjor said. "Now let's leave Aela on her own so she can shapeshift back."

With a chuckle, Farkas added, "Aela wouldn't appreciate us standing right here while she shifts out of the form that grew so quickly it tore most of her clothes to shreds. Unfortunately."

The Aela-beast gave a threatening growl toward the bearded Nord, but Farkas' reaction showed the whole thing was in jest.

"Come on," Vilkas told Keljarn, putting his hand on his shoulder. "Take your time to think things over, and have your answer ready tomorrow evening. Until then, we've got something to keep you busy."

"Since you know what we are now," Skjor said, "You're also entitled to know who hunts us. Aela will give you all the information you need once she's dressed and ready."

The stone door fell back into place and they found themselves in the cool evening air.

"Farkas, no peeking," his brother said with a grin.

"What kind of creep do you take me for, brother?" Farkas laughed back.

Skjor, meanwhile, continued to explain to Keljarn. "They're called the Silver Hand, and they think as you did before you came into the Underforge. That we're crazed beasts, rampaging demons that tear childrens' throats open at night and devour maidens in oceans of blood." He rolled his eyes. "You know the type, and you know the drama."

Keljarn did know the type. Not those people specifically, but those narrow-minded crusaders who'd passed judgment on one kind of people, condemning them as animals or subhumans and swearing to eradicate them. They were usually lunatics, but sometimes... sometimes they were right. Though the name did suddenly ring a bell. "The Silver Hand, I've heard that before."

Farkas fell into step beside them as they walked back into Jorrvaskr. "They're the ones who ambushed us yesterday. They want us dead, plain and simple, and they don't even remember why. Or care."

"Exactly," Skjor said, leading them back inside. "Njada, mead, double-time it!"

The sour girl trotted off with an equally sour face. Ria was nowhere to be found. Skjor made certain of that with a quick look around and went on, his one eye fixating on Keljarn. "We've found out where they are right now. They're have a camp near Gallows Rock."

Keljarn knew the place. It wasn't all that far. Close to Windhelm, nestled against the mountain chain to the east. "So I assume you're going there to serve them roast deer and a bottle of Blackbriar reserve?"

"Close," Skjor said with a grin. "We're going to tear them to bits."

"Sure that's necessary?"

Farkas nodded, sitting down at the table opposite Keljarn. "Them or us, friend."

"You've already seen," his brother said, "how they actively hunt us, set traps for us. They want us dead, and they will not stop until they achieve their goal, or they're dead themselves."

Silence fell while Njada set the mead and cups on the table. Only when she'd gone again, did Skjor down his cup in two big gulps, stand up and say, "I'm going to scout ahead. When Aela's ready, you two come after me so we can decide on our plan of attack."

"You're going alone?" Keljarn said. "Isn't that dangerous?"

Skjor laughed. "It's the Companions, milk drinker! Everything we do is dangerous."

"I'll go with you now if you – "

Skjor shook his head. "I move faster on my own."

"Careful," Farkas said with a grin. "Last guy who said that got a crossbow bolt in the back of the head."

Skjor chuckled and then said, "Farkas and Vilkas stay here to defend Jorrvaskr. You and Aela come after me. Then we kick the Silver Hand right out of Skyrim." Not waiting for an answer, he stomped off to his room, collected his things and walked out, sparing the others only a brief, grim nod.

"Skjor will be fine," Farkas said. "Have some bread, you've got a long journey ahead of you."

They ate while Farkas and Vilkas explained the way to Gallows Rock (which Keljarn didn't mention he knew already), and as he finished his last hunk of bread and dried meat, he saw Aela enter the mead hall. It looked like she'd never even been in the Underforge, let alone as a massive, hairy juggernaut of destruction. She briefly joined them, scoffing down several strips of dried meat at once, then nodding to Keljarn, with a full mouth saying, "Let's go."

Keljarn didn't have a lot of things to collect, and neither did Aela, and after around fifteen minutes, they found themselves at the door of Jorrvaskr, ready to follow Skjor, walking through the city of Whiterun, its usual bustle died down, the city lying calm and tranquil in the night, with only the occasional torch-holding guard walking past and nodding a greeting. It'd have been something Keljarn had looked forward to with nervous anticipation, spending the whole night with Aela and no one else, but the looks she'd given Skjor told her he'd waste his time trying. Stupid, stupid. But then, there were other fish in the sea and that.

Just as he thought that, Aela broke the silence they walked in, saying, "I'm not going to boast about my female intuition here, but I do think Ria's got a certain interest in you."

"Really?" Keljarn asked. He certainly hadn't seen anything of the kind. And besides, it wasn't Ria he hoped had an interest in him. "I think she's just glad she's no longer the newest member."

Aela gave a lopsided smile. They were out the gates of Whiterun now, feeling the cold night air on their faces as they walked across the rolling plains. The mountains were a black formation against the dark blue of the night, looking impossibly far. "Oh no. It's not just that. I see her looking at you all the time when she thinks no one sees."

"Oh." Hm, that was a bit awkward. "Well, um... she's nice and all, but she's not really..."

"Your cup of mead. I know," Aela said with a nod. Her boots tocked on the wood of the bridge they were crossing. "No one else in your life, though?"

That was a strange question. Didn't people always ask that when they had an interest themselves? Of course, Aela clearly didn't, but why did she ask then? He mentally kicked himself for hoping. "No, I'm a gay bachelor at the moment. Not really looking, but not minding if something comes along. You know."

"M-hm."

Even though Keljarn knew he didn't want to hear the answer, he asked anyway. "What about you? No brawny blonde Nord demigod waiting for Aela to come home?" He sounded like an idiot. It wasn't often that happened to him. Nine, he really was crushing.

"Not really, no," Aela said, looking straight ahead. Hope flared up in Keljarn's chest, but it proved vain when Aela looked at the ground, grinned like an embarrassed teen and said, "At least, not yet."

Well, that was that. It was, in a way, good that he knew it for sure now. No time or effort wasted in hoping and speculating. And he'd already been made a Companion in such a short time, and been offered to join the Circle. Couldn't win them all.

They walked on, Keljarn telling Aela about his childhood, about his mixed heritage, about his teenage years when his long hair had gone a premature gray, about his reasons for coming back to Skyrim, and all those things, while Aela nodded and m-hm'ed in response, sometimes taking over with some history of her own. Despite having to stow his hopes back in his cupboard, Keljarn enjoyed the time with her, just talking and getting to know each other. Even though this wild beauty (with the slightly scary ability to shapeshift into a terrible monster) had already set her sights on someone else, it was relaxing and pleasant to just build a friendship. The feeling would keep nagging, but just having a good time together was a lot already. It almost made him forget they were on the way to kill off a group of werewolf-hunters.

"Should be on that hilltop there," Aela pointed out. When Keljarn saw nothing at all, she added with a chuckle, "Sharper senses is a little side benefit of becoming a supposed 'bloodthirsty monster'."

"Yes, yes, alright, I take it back," Keljarn said, grinning at the morning air. "So weren't we supposed to meet Skjor somewhere around here?"

Aela nodded. "Yes, and it worries me."

"Well... it's not like he can't take care of himself, right?"

"No, of course, but... he shouldn't have come without a shield-brother."

"He said he moved – "

"Yes, yes," she interrupted him. "He prefers to work alone." She gnawed at her lower lip. "I hope nothing happened to him."

Keljarn obviously couldn't answer that question, so he just said, "Come on, let's go see, we'll find him."

Dawn was lighting the dark blues at the horizon, and they could see a bit more as they quietly sneaked up the hill, Aela pointing out the best side of approach, using her 'sharper senses' to discern which side would be less visible to the Silver Hand members on the hilltop. As they climbed the mossy rocks, weaving between the pine trees, Keljarn briefly realized that he was going to kill people of whom he only knew what these people had told him, but he pushed the thought away.

"Up there," Aela whispered, stopping her approach. She took cover between the two pine trees near her and motioned for Keljarn to do the same. He hid behind a rock and peered over it, seeing two shapes standing on the hilltop, talking to each other. Aela made the redundant gesture of a finger over her lips.

They waited for a tense half minute, and then the two shapes moved on, going out of sight.

Aela nodded and they resumed their creep up the hill., their boots making almost no sound on the moss. They were so close now, they could hear the murmur of talking voices.

And then, suddenly, the loud screaming whine of a dog being tortured.

No, not a dog. A wolf.

Aela uncoiled like a spring, sending her body racing up the hill, drawing her bow in the process. Keljarn followed a moment later, hoping he wasn't just charging to his own death.

With a roar, Aela reached the top of the hill and let fly. Keljarn also made it and ran past her, seeing the first of the hunters drop with an arrow through his throat. A hunter had gotten over her surprise and lunged at him, but Keljarn's axe went under her clumsy blow, chopping into her abdomen and coming back out with red, ropy guts trailing behind it, their previous owner whirling around like a burst rag doll. In his speed, Keljarn only saw a spray of red as he charged past her. The other hunter set himself against the charge, and Keljarn body-slammed against his shield, bowling them both over. The rolled over the grass and fallen pinecones, and Keljarn delivered a hard punch to his opponent's nose, stunning him before bringing his axe down and splitting the man's head like a log, cracking the skull in two, bright red and yellow brain tissue splatting out. The man's split head still moved, the jaw working feebly as Keljarn got back to his feet and deflected a hard sword blow. His foot lashed out, catching his enemy between the legs. The man wheezed and fell back, and Keljarn let his axe come down, getting it stuck in the torso of the hunter. The man gurgled, went to his knees, and fell down as Keljarn kicked him off the blade of his axe.

Aela, meanwhile, had dispatched her other opponent as well, stabbing her in the eye with her dagger. Keljarn was in time to see her twist the knife in the other woman's skull. Feebly clawing at Aela's hand, the hunter fell down.

"That's that," she said grimly. "Now we have to... Oh, Nine, no, no!"

Her face panicked, she suddenly rushed forward. Keljarn's eyes followed her path and fell on the wooden frame, hastily erected, and the heavy ropes coiled around it. And in the frame, the creature hung in a splayed position, red blood running thick through its black fur.

"Talk to me! Talk to me!" Aela shouted at the werewolf, but there was no response. Keljarn thought briefly to tell her this might not be Skjor, but then he saw the werewolf's face, and the white glass eye in one of the socket.

The torture inflicted on the late Companion was horrible, nauseating. His eye teeth were pulled, hands were hacked off, and they had apparently been in the process of flaying him alive, half the skin of his torso cut away, hanging from his body in a bloody flap, the muscles behind showing in horrible raw red.

"Skjor! Skjor!" Aela wailed. "What have they done to you!"

"Aela," Keljarn said quietly, more to say something than to actually be of use, "There's nothing we can do for him anymore. His pain is over, he's free now."

Aela stood looking at the tortured werewolf, breathing hard through her nose. "They'll pay for this," she growled. "They'll... they'll..."

"Aela – "

Skjor's wolf head briefly moved, his eye wobbling and then fixating on Aela.

"Skjor! Skjor, don't worry, we'll... Keljarn! Keljarn, heal him! You can cast spells, do it!"

It was no use, Keljarn knew, and he was certain that Skjor knew it too, but he still prepared his feeble healing spell. It would only prolong his suffering, but Aela needed him to do everything he could, even if it was useless. He concentrated on the flowing energies of nature, in the air all around them, and gathered them so they could be directed at the weeping, unimaginably painful wounds covering his new brother in arms.

"Wait, wait," Aela said hoarsely. "Stop."

Skjor's head feebly moved from side to side. His destroyed maw tried to move and make sounds, but he hadn't the strength.

Both Keljarn and Aela knew what he meant, and Aela drew her dagger from its sheath, still red with the blood of the dead hunters, and pushed it straight between Skjor's ribs, ending the Companion's suffering.