Farkas's wounds were finally fully healed so he could move around like he wanted. He'd lost weight over the past month and he was determined to gain it back. So, when ever he wasn't helping Fark or Maralith he was practicing with his sword and exercising. Fark admired the younger man. Farkas was strong and very determined. More so than most men he knew. Farkas was becoming a huge inspiration to Fark.
Fark had wanted to try his hand at smithing but he didn't have the funds to have some one teach him. But he'd do what he could do help make some money. Poor Farkas would occasionally flinch as his scars were stretched but it was nothing too unbearable, he'd live through it. "I'm going to the lake to wash up." he told Fark. The older man nodded and watched as the younger walked off. Strange lad, but a good one.
The cold water felt good on Farkas's warm, sweaty skin. He looked over his body at all his scars. The more recent ones were the most raised and some you couldn't tell were there until you looked closer. He then wondered, how many scars did Vilkas have? Likely about as many as Farkas, but maybe more... Maybe less.
What were those scars from? Maybe some were from giants and trolls. Perhaps the Silver Hand had gotten a lucky hit... Maybe some of Vilkas's scars came from Farkas in training and Vilkas just never said a word about getting hit. Farkas felt a pang of guilt. He didn't like hurting his brother, especially on accident when Vilkas didn't admit he was injured. Farkas sighed and sat down in the water.
He loved the feel of water on his body. It felt like he was safe in water, for whatever reason. He may have been commonly affiliated with mountains or rocks, but Farkas was more attuned to the water. He felt as if he could drift in it forever. As much as he loved water, it scared him too. He often had nightmares where he was drowning, or where the ones he loved were being pulled down into the dark depths of the ocean, never to return. It was a scary thought, but he couldn't help but love the water.
He was about to stand, when something hit him on the head and he blacked out.
Vilkas stopped his horse suddenly. Something felt wrong. Not with him or with Lurch and Cicero, but... With his brother. He felt like something happened to Farkas, but he couldn't know what. Someone without a twin might have said that Vilkas finally realized Farkas might be dead. But Vilkas simply felt like his brother was in trouble. He sighed, shook his head, and continued moving.
Lurch had been watching Vilkas's behavior the last few days and it just kept taking turns for the worst. He was getting angrier and angrier, meaner and meaner. The threat to the Rorikstead barkeeper hadn't been real, but the threat he'd made to a few Imperials who wanted proof they were allowed to be in the area, had been genuine. He'd threatened to kill each of the Imperial men slowly while the others were forced to watch.
Vilkas's voice had been laced with venom when he told those men that. Vilkas needed his brother around to keep him level. Lurch had payed the Imperial men to forget the incident.
Now, Lurch watched Vilkas's slumping shoulders and worn out demeanor. When Vilkas wasn't angry, he was simply depressed. Vilkas normally had a lot of energy, but now... He was just a shell of what he normally was.
Later, the trio settled down for the night just next to the road and went to bed, not a word spoken between them.
Vilkas awoke the next morning... In a cell. He quickly sat up, trying to figure out where in the hell he was. It was an old fortress, by the look of it. He could see many of the Silver Hand bustling about. He growled low in his throat. So, they'd kidnapped him and locked him up like a wild the hall way was clear, he saw the cell across from him.
This was why he'd had that feeling!
He watched as Farkas's chest rose and fell in his sleep. He appeared to have gotten injured awhile back, but seemed fine otherwise. If he wasn't in a cell seven feet from his brother, he'd have cried out of joy. But he couldn't show any more weakness, not around the Silver Hand.
Farkas soon woke up and took in his surroundings, quickly spotting Vilkas. "Vil!" He shot forward and grabbed the bars of his cell, wanting to do nothing more than hug his twin tightly and never let go. Vilkas smiled and leaned on his own cell door. "I... I finally found you, Farkas." he said, biting his lip. "I'm sorry... Sorry for being so thick headed." Farkas sighed and shook his head. "Vil, I should be sorry. I was the one who did all the insulting and hitting and running out." he argued, glaring at the ground. Vilaks sighed and stared at the ground.
The twins were silent for a moment before a screech sounded, alerting the two to the fact that Lurch was also locked up. "Noooo!" the Dragonborn yelled. "I'm too young and pretty to die! Whhhhhhhhhhhyyyyyyyyy?!" Farkas chuckled while Vilkas rolled his eyes. Lurch was useful but, damn he was fucking annoying.
Of course, Lurch was only twenty-six so he had his excuse.
At any rate, they weren't getting out anytime soon. So they'd sit back and wait for Aela.