Tirdas, 25th of Sun's Dusk, 4E 201
Shadowmere slowed to a walk as they passed left the thick woodland behind them and came to the vast open plains of Whiterun, the very plains that Clear had been running from.
Responsibility.
Was she ready to take it on once more?
The small elf sighed heavily and absentmindedly patted Shadowmere on his thick-furred neck. She was going to have to be ready. The longer she ran from it, the more people would suffer.
Where to start though?
She would need people on the inside, she would need allies. What about the Companions? They would offer her community and intel...but did she really want to get close to people again, especially after what happened with Vvardenfell?
Clear let out a humourless laugh quietly. It seemed her trusty steed had made her mind up for her, for he was already upon the Whiterun stables.
Clear dismounted gracefully and turned to lean her forehead against Shadowmere's.
"You know me too well, old friend."
With one last smile she stepped back from the magnificent horse, watching the stable boy come up to take the reins.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you..." She warned the boy as he reached out his dirt covered hand to her steed.
Shadowmere's ears went flat against his head, snorting dangerously at the boy. In an instant he reared and galloped off with a dark whinny into the vast plains of Whiterun.
"But Miss, your horse..." The stable boy turned to her with shocked wide eyes.
The elf adjusted her cloak slightly, throwing the young boy a warm smile.
"He'll be back." She explained with a knowing twinkle in her eye, before leaving the bewildered stable boy behind and gliding up to the front gates of Whiterun and into the city.
[*]
With only a moment's hesitation, the small wood elf pushed open the heavy oak door of Jorrvaskr slightly and slipped quietly inside.
"Are those two at it again?" Was the first thing she heard as loud rowdy cheering, burnt charcoal and wood, strong ale and a stifling heat filled her sharp senses and hit her like a tonne of bricks.
There was a heated brawl going on between a scrawny Dark Elf and a Nord woman, with lots of large Nords crowded around cheering and bumping ales together.
For a moment Clear debated backing out and running for the safety of Falkreach's quite forests, but then she spotted a familiar face.
"Hello Aela, is that offer to join the Companions still up?" The small elf asked softly, watching recognition flash over the huntress' war-painted face.
"Clear is it? We don't just take any milk drinkers who stumble in. Talk to Kodlak if you think you have got what it takes to be a Companion."
Aela pointed her in the right direction and promptly continued to watch the brawl, as if Clear had never disturbed her.
The elf had never felt more of an outsider than she did then.
None the less, she followed Aela's directions down the stairs and along the corridor of wood and stone. Small feet padding softly on the maroon carpet, she soon came to the large room at the end where the wooden double doors were thrown open.
Two men sat at a candle lit wooden table at the back of the room. The younger of the two seemed to be confiding in the other, with a pained and worried look upon his dark stubble features. He has dark rings around his eyes which were accentuated with black war-paint. His pale skin was contracted vividly by his long dark hair that fell to just behind his ears. But what caught Clear's attention most was his silvery grey armour that was decorated with wolf symbols. It was magnificent. The candle light bounced off his armour and left flecks of orange in his silver eyes, which were currently hard with worry.
"But I still hear the call of the blood..." The man said exasperated in a gravely deep voice, hands tightening around his ale tankard.
"We all do. It is our burden to bare, but we will overcome." The older male said tiredly, stroking his silver mane and leaning back in his chair slightly. He seemed to have a quiet authority around him, Clear noted, and guessed that he was Kodlak, the leader of the Companions.
She approached the doorway hesitantly, not wanting to intrude.
"You have my brother and I obviously, but I don't know if the others will go quite so easily." The younger man replied, seemingly still stressed.
The elf took this lapse in the conversation to make herself known.
"A stranger comes to our halls." Kodlak announced as both men looked up at her, the older one notably with a lighter expression.
"I would like to join the Companions." Clear announced in her musical voice, eyes assessing the two sets staring intently at her.
"Would you now? Here, let me have a look at you." Kodlak gestured her to come closer, with an old hand held out to her.
Clear stepped gracefully closer, ignoring the hostile growl from the younger man, and slipped her left pale slender hand into the old mans, so her Nerevarine ring remained hidden on her right. She looked down into Kodlak's warm brown eyes, staring right through him with her piercing emerald ones.
"Hmm...yes, perhaps." He murmured to himself quietly, before letting her hand drop as she stepped back.
"You have certain strength of spirit. I am Kodlak, Harbinger of the Companions and this is Vilkas," He said, gesturing to the other male who now wore a foul look on his face. "What is your name, child?"
'I am far from a child.' Clear thought silently, knowing that she did probably look like a child to Kodlak in human years compared to him.
"My name is Clear." She answered softly, watching the older man smile slightly at her refreshing voice.
"Master, you are not truly considering accepting her?!" The younger man leant forward, bitterness leaked into his now sharp voice, eyes full of loathing as he glared at her.
The elf almost took a step back. What had she done to rouse such hate in him, or offend him? Clear's eyes hardened. She would not be backed into a corner by some Nord who was not even a tenth of her age or experience.
"I am no body's master, Vilkas, and last time I checked we had some empty beds in Jorrvaskr for those with a fire burning in their hearts." The old man said just as sharply, effectively putting the other man, now known as Vilkas, in his place.
"Apologies," Vilkas said gruffly, but would not back down. "But perhaps this isn't the time. I've never even heard of this outsider." He spat the last word, throwing another dirty look at Clear.
There it was; outsider. She was always the outsider, even to her own home province. The small elf longed to belong somewhere, but with her slowed ageing it was always best to move on. The Companions would be no different, she knew sadly.
"Sometimes the famous come to us. Sometimes men and women come to us to seek their fame. It makes no difference, what matters is their heart." Kodlak was saying, kindness in his eyes when he glanced over at the silent elf.
"And their arm..." Vilkas growled bitterly, yet Kodlak seemed to perk up at his colleagues comment.
"Of course! How are you in battle, girl?" The older man asked her, twinkle in his eye as she saw him glance to her two visible weapons; ebony bow and katana.
The elf hesitated for a split second, which went unnoticed by either Nord. What should she say?
"I can handle myself." She decided on saying, in a very guarded tone which prompted a raised eyebrow from Vilkas.
"That may be so. This is Vilkas," He gestured to the sour looking Nord besides him, "He will test your arm."
Kodlak then turned to the man besides him with a subtle commanding aura about him. "Vilkas, take her out to the yard and see what she can do."
"Aye," The man stood with what seemed like a great effort and stormed past her, not sparing her a second glance.
Muttering a string of elvish curses at the rude Nord, Clear silently followed him, glaring at his large armour covered back.
'This should be interesting.' The elf thought quietly, subconsciously rubbing the hit of her dagger strapped to her belt.