A/N: Main character name change from Claire to Clear. It was getting a bit disconcerting writing about someone with my own name. Previous chapters have all been updated with this change.
...
Silently following the brooding Nord up the stairs and into the main hall of Jorrvaskr, Clear noted that once Vilkas threw open the iron double doors with a large 'bang' and stormed outside, all talk and laughter ceased immediately.
Without casting a glance at the rest of the Companions in the main hall, Clear swiftly slipped out of the doors and into the small courtyard on the other side. Silently, she left the shaded overhang of the roof and stood on the western side of the cobblestoned courtyard so her large Nordic opponent blocked out the mornings harsh sun.
"The old man said to have a look at you, so let's do this." Vilkas started, boredom evident in his gravelly voice as he lifted his great sword from his back. "Just have a few swings at me so I can see your form, don't worry, I can take it."
Clear inwardly growled at his mockery. She was not some child who had never used a weapon before!
The elf exhaled softly and closed her eyes for the briefest of moments.
"I don't want you using any of your bow trickery either; fight me with a proper weapon!" Vilkas called out snidely, only half heartedly readying his sword.
Clear's emerald eyes shot open, refusing to rise to his taunts.
With a flash of crimson, Clear was behind her large unwitting opponent and slashed at the back of his silver armour, pushing him to his knees with an unseen strength.
The elf stepped in front of Vilkas, watching him process what just happened with wide silver eyes.
'Hopefully he will stop underestimating me now and fight for real.' Clear thought silently as she glanced over at their growing spectators of Companions.
She looked back at Vilkas in time to raise her magnificent katana to block his oncoming sideward blow, pushing her backwards slightly at the sheer force of it. Clear could see that she had pissed the Nord of by embarrassing him in front of his friends and so he began attacking her with renewed vigour.
The little elf evaded all of his heavy swipes, managing to get close enough to jab under his armour every so often. She made sure she held back massively, not really wanting to show off all of her fighting capabilities to warrant interest or questions directed at her from the other Companions.
After five long minutes of parrying and striking each other, Vilkas called for the end, noticeably more bruised and cut up than Clear's unmarked pale skin.
"Not bad." He managed, puffing slightly. "You might just make it. But for now you're just a whelp to us, new blood. So you do what we tell you." Vilkas spat out at her, making Clear's emerald eyes narrow dangerously.
"Here's my sword," Vilkas proclaimed in front of everybody, holding it out to the small elf expectantly.
"Go and take it to Eorlund to have it sharpened. Be careful, it's probably worth more than you are." With that he pushed it into her small hands and stormed off without a backwards glance.
Clear just stood there in the courtyard for a moment, holding the vicious Nord's weapon in her small but deceptively strong hands. She had to forcibly remind herself that not all humans were vicious bastards and that she would have to put up with the annoying minority that contradicted that fact.
Exhaling strongly and holding her head high, Clear gracefully strode around the side of the yard and up the stone slope to the left where she could see a large magnificent forge.
Approaching softly, the elf noticed an old grizzled man working away at the forge. Guessing this man was Eorlund, she advanced with the sword hilt held out towards him.
"What brings you here?" Eorlund asked briskly turning around to face the elf with un-recognition in his grey eyes, evidently busy and wanting to get back to work.
"Vilkas sent me with his sword." Clear explained softly, handing the weapon over to him watching the older Nord visibly relax by the sound of her musical voice.
"I'm guessing you are the newcomer then?" Eorlund asked, soft smile now lighting up his worn features.
"That I am, my name is Clear." The elf introduced warmly, "Does Vilkas always send newcomers on errands?" She asked as an afterthought, slight frown adorning her pale features.
"Oh don't worry about it, they were all newcomers once. They just might not like to talk about it." The old man said with a shake of his fading golden head. "And don't just always do what you're told, nobody rules anybody in the Companions."
"But somebody has to be in charge though?" Clear asked, genuinely pleased that someone wasn't being hostile towards her for a change.
"Well, I'm not sure how they have managed it, but they have. No leaders since Ysgramor. Kodlak is the Harbinger, and he is sort of an adviser to the whole group. But every man is his own, every woman her own."
This instantly sparked an interest in Clear. That set up sounded ideal; somewhere where she was not under someone's rule and could come and go as she pleased. It was just the downside of putting up with Vilkas foul attitude towards her.
"I'll need to be going now, Eorlund." Clear said softly as she turned to leave but the Nord spoke up quickly.
"Actually, I have a favour to ask."
"What is it?" The elf asked kindly, turning back around to give the old Nord her full attention.
"I've been working on a shield for Aela. My wife is in mourning and I need to get back to her soon, I'd be much obliged if you could take this to Aela for me." Eorlund asked, handing out a beautifully carved silver shield to her.
"I'm happy to lend a hand." The elf said softly, accepting the shield and gliding back down the slope to Jorrvaskr. Finally, someone who asked nicely, the elf made sure to make a note of this.
Once entering the warm wooden hall, Clear quickly scanned her heightened vision around for the Nordic woman and spied her sat at a wooden table in rapid conversation with a balding man.
With a warm smile, despite her straining patience with Nords for one day, the crimson haired woman walked straight up to the war painted huntress and held the new shield out to her.
"I have your shield, Aela." Clear announced, interrupting the couples conversation. Aela looked up sharply at first, which then quickly melted into delight.
"Ah! Good, I have been waiting for this!" Aela exclaimed, accepting the magnificent work of smiting from the elf. "So the old man thinks you've got some talent then, Clear?" Aela asked with a smile, motioning for the lithe elf to sit with them.
"You know this one Aela? I saw her in the training yard with Vilkas." The other man supplied, nodding his head toward the elf and muttering a "Skjor" for introduction.
"Ah yes, I heard you gave him quite a thrashing." Aela smirked toward the elf, obviously impressed.
"Don't let Vilkas catch you saying that..." Skjor admonished sharply, though a slight smirk pulled at his features also.
"Do you think you could handle Vilkas in a real fight?" Aela asked the elf, leaning forward on the table slightly, intrigued by the small elf.
Clear paused slightly, debating on what to say. Finally she settled with; "I don't care for boasting."
"Ah! A woman who lets her actions speak for her, I knew there was something I liked about you." Aela sat back in her chair with a hearty smile adorning her war paint covered face. The woman's good mood was infectious, so Clear couldn't help but leak a small smile.
"Here, let's have Farkas show you where you'll be resting your head." The huntress said and with Skjor's booming shout of "Farkas!" across the room, the larger Nord walked up to the table with a mildly interested expression.
"You called me?"
"Of course we did ice brain. Show this new blood where the rest of the whelps sleep." Aela commanded with playful banter. Clear stood gracefully and offered a warm smile to the Nord who showed kindness to her all those months ago.
"Hello again, follow me little elf." Farkas said with a soft smile which gave him the look of a 'gentle giant', striding down the stairs to the living quarters making sure Clear could keep up with him.
She liked this Nord.
"Skjor and Aela tease me, but their good people." Farkas offered up in conversation, which Clear just nodded her crimson head in understanding.
"I hope we keep you, this can be a rough life." Farkas said again, turning to face her with a warm smile.
"Don't worry Farkas; I'm not that easy to get rid of." Clear reassured him, placing a slender hand on his iron bracers. The man's features seemed to soften at her caring actions.
"Just pick a bed and fall in when you're tired." Farkas motioned to the medium sized stone room through the door in front of them, which was kitted out with numerous straw cots and a few chests. Three people were milling about off duty, but they all turned their heads when Farkas and the small elf walked through.
"Tilma will keep the place clean, she always does. All right, here we are. Looks like the others are eager to meet you. Come to me or Aela when you are looking for work. Once you have made a bit of a name for yourself, Skjor or Vilkas might have something for you to do." Farkas informed her, giving her one last warm smile before leaving her to the gaggle of Companions next to the beds.
The elf let out an inaudible sigh at the thought of working her way up the ranks of yet another quild, before turning her attention to the three companions engaging in a nasty verbal fight before her. Before she could open her mouth, the scrawny male dunmer stormed past her and out of the living quarters.
"You elves, you're all the same!" A butch looking woman wearing a ridiculous iron helmet rounded on the newcomer.
"So the newcomer is another filthy elf? You and your Thalmor friends should go back to the forests away from civilization where you belong." The woman made to spit at her, but Clear swiftly sidestepped and let the ironclad woman storm out of the room also.
Her words had no affect on the red headed elf, for she had heard it all before.
"Hello, I'm Ria, we met a couple of months ago when my shield-brothers and I were taking down that giant?" The only remaining woman, more a girl, bounded up to the elf, apologetic smile on her face.
"That's just Nadja, she has a bit of a chip on her shoulder concerning the Thalmor."
"I never would have guessed." Clear managed, eager to get out into the open once more.
"I was the newest companion before you, but that's okay, I guess I can show you the ropes." Ria said eagerly, with a vague hint of longed bossiness around her.
That was the last straw for the strained elf.
Clear bid her farewells to Ria and without a look back, glided silently up the wooden stairs and out of Jorrvaskr all together, coming to a stop next to the gigantic withered tree in Whiterun's market street.
'Well that was indeed eventful.' The lone elf thought as she walked through the city peacefully, glad to be under Tamriel's suns once more.
So now she had to go about completing meaningless jobs and tasks for the Companions before she is deemed 'worthy'. The thought of it just made Clear sigh. Maybe if she told them all who she really was, and what she had achieved? Would that speed the process along?
Clear thought not. They would either not believe her, or run for the hills.
It was better to keep her identity a secret and not to get close to anyone.
She mustn't make attachments, they only end in blood.
Once her delicate footfalls reached the Whiterun stables outside the city, Clear climbed on top of a ruined cobblestoned wall, much to the stable boys dismay, and let out two musical high pitched whistles which resonated over the vast Whiterun planes.
Satisfied with the sound, the elf nimbly jumped down and ignored the open-mouthed look of the young stable boy as a thunder of hooves came closer to her.
'Shadowmere...' Clear thought, with a small smile gracing her elven features. She really had missed her old friend. The magnificent ebony stallion galloped up to her side, rearing up dramatically to scare off the timid stable boy, which earned a soft musical laugh from the small elf.
Wordlessly, Clear vaulted on Shadowmere's back and with a soft hand placed on the stallion's thick fur, they galloped across the plains of Whiterun, heading north.
Not five minutes north, following the White River, Clear's sharp elven orbs caught sight of a bandit camp up ahead. She really needed a place to stay...
Before they knew what hit them, a demonic like horse leapt into the camp rearing up and striking the surprised bandits with his ebony hooves. A crimson figure ghosted off the animals back dealing fatal blows at close range, her arrows effectively ending all life that the stallion had not.
Steed and elf stood there more a moment, the latter surveying the mess around her. Shadowmere dipped his head and nudged the woman out of her thoughts.
Absently stroking the horse behind his ears, Clear contemplated what to do next.
She looked around the camp. It consisted of one makeshift tent of sturdy looking wood and thick course fabric, a stone fire pit and a few mangy looking pelts strewn across the frost covered ground as rugs. The camp was right next to the glistening water of the White River, a perfect spot for Clear and Shadowmere to now call home.
Once disposing of the dead bandits and washing away the blood splatters Clear then set about disposing off the old lion pelts and got a fire built and lit.
Leaving Shadowmere to guard their newfound camp, Clear silently glided over to a nearby mill and stole a sack full of straw, bringing it back to her camp and spreading it out across the ground next to her tent.
"There you go Shadowmere, that will be a little warmer than the cold grass." The elf said softly, patting the animal's neck. The intelligent animal nudged her back slightly and with a swish of his long tale, dropped himself down onto his knees to then lay down on the straw, tucking his muzzle into his legs.
With one last scan across the diming horizon, Clear deemed it safe enough to crawl into her makeshift tent and catch a few hours of well needed sleep.
-x-
Screams of pure terror and agony filled the brisk night air only to fall upon deaf ears, for they were too far out in the wilderness.
She swept though the encampment like an angel of death, crimson hair alight with the reds and oranges of the setting sun that cold night.
One by one they fell to her blade and arrows, never seeing her coming, never suspecting a thing. That was how it always was; that was how she worked.
Why was it that every guild expected her to kill? 'They are just bandits', they said. Don't bandits have families too?
She sliced though another mans abdomen, watching with dull emerald eyes as he looked at her in pure panic and confusion – this was far too close to her Dark Brotherhood days. She didn't want to kill any more; there was too much death in the world already– yet this was the task Farkas set her, so she would see it done.
Gliding up the ruined stonewalls, Clear picked off the remaining few bandits that Shadowmere was battling outside of the camp, and with one last swift arrow, the deed was finally done.
The night was quiet once more.
Clear let out a long sigh, her soft breath visible against the blackening night as she raised her head to look at the stars.
Would her ancestors be proud?
Closing her eyes briefly, the elf tried to supress the sudden sadness that raged though her at the loss of life and a hollow feeling of regret quickly took its place.
This was how it always was.
Jumping gracefully down from the high wall, Clear walked up to Shadowmere and gave him a soft pat of thanks for helping her with her task. She lifted his ebony reins over his head and led him slowly away from the bloodshed towards a spring she saw amongst the rocky outcrops.
She removed Shadowmere's tack to let him stretch his strong muscles and the animal nudged her side in thanks before walking around to the other side of the spring to rub his flank against the bark of an old, dried up tree.
The elf half smiled in response and after washing all the blood from her small person, she sat down on one of the rocks and opened her battered black journal.
Carefully turning the aged pages of the little book, she stopped at one of the first pages. The page was mostly empty apart from a small paragraph written in beautiful scripted handwriting in the dead centre of the page.
That small text depicted her whole meaning of life, the reason she was trapped on the mortal plane of Nirn.
Placing a slender finger on the withered page, Clear began to read the familiar yet so unfamiliar words:
"From the ashes of the fire from the Empire,
A lone babe found under the roots of the Falinesti,
Peace will be infrequent and fleeting,
The wandering city will finally be rooted.
Horizons of reddened ash shall be foretold,
While the black gates test the worthy.
The true voice will prevail at any cost,
Though the unseen and most unlikely.
Not all those who wander are lost."
Clear sat back and stared unseeing into the night, contemplating those mysterious words for the millionth time.
It was the ancient prophecy of her people, one that was seemingly directed at her.
After a moments thought, the elf retrieved a small ink pot and brush from her pack and began writing her thoughts down in a fresh page of her journal.
" 'From the ashes of the fire from the Empire,'
I am quite unsure what this line means. It could refer to the numerous wars and bloodshed caused by the forming of the Empire.
'A lone babe found under the roots of the Falinesti,'
This is a clear referral to where I was found as a child. The Elders of Valenwood told me that as a babe I was found under the roots of the great city, abandoned and alone. No one knew who I was or who had left me, but they believed I was the child this prophecy speaks off, that I was a gift sent from the Divines to Nirn, to stand as her holy protector. Could that really be true?
'Peace will be infrequent and fleeting,'
Never were truer words written. I have lived for so, so many years. My elven life has taught me that no matter how hard you try peace will never last.
'The wandering city will finally be rooted.'
I assume that this means that the events of this prophecy will unfold when the Falinesti finally finds a place to settle, which it did earlier in the second era.
'Horizons of reddened ash shall be foretold'
This is where as much as I try to question it, I am sure this prophecy is about me. I was positive this speaks of my time in Morrowind, discovering my responsibility of the Neravarine and battling Dagoth-Ur. Or that's what I thought it did, at the time. I now know that it was actually referring to the explosion of Red Mountain, destroying Vvardenfell.
I do not understand why one prophecy, the prophecy of the Neravarine, told me to save Vvardenfell only it to be destroyed by another prophecy, once I had finally find a place to call home.
'While the black gates test the worthy'
I do believe this refers to my time in Cyrodiil, when I was sent into the depths of Oblivion to defeat the invasion of Mehrunes Dagon and witnessed the heroic death of my dear friend Martin Septim, thus becoming the Champion of Cyrodiil. His death was just another of many, how many more will this prophecy predict?
'The true voice will prevail at any cost,
Through the unseen and most unlikely.'
This is the last event this prophecy predicts, one I have not yet witnessed. Could this have anything to do with the strange happenings of late, anything to do with the Dragonborn? What more tasks do the Divines wish me to face?
'Not all those who wander are lost.'
All these years I have been wandering across Tamriel, with no home and seemingly no purpose. What has it been for? I just do not understand what I am supposed to do, who I am supposed to be; the protector of Nirn?
Only the Divines may know."
Clear set her quill down and sighed into the night's sky.
If anyone were to happen upon her journal, the small elf wouldn't know what to do; how would she explain herself? She hated all the titles of fame she had amassed. Isn't 'Clear the Bosmer' enough?
Letting her crimson head tilt back slightly, she looked to the sky. There was still a few more hours until dawn and on the morrow she must head for Whiterun. Farkas would be waiting her return from the job he sent her on.
Stowing her belongings safely back in her pack, Clear walked up to Shadowmere who was laying on the cold ground and sat next to him, with her back resting against his coarse fur.
Tomorrow she would have to be back amongst people.
-x-
"I've taken care of the problem." The elf told Farkas as soon as she saw found him.
"Another job well done!" The large Nord said with a gentle smile on his face as he clapped a hand on her shoulder in praise. Clear kept a poker face, not happy about the lives she took the night previous.
"Skjor was looking for you earlier," The man continued as he removed his large hand from her tiny shoulder. Clear perked up at that.
"What does he want?" She asked softly but her tone was guarded. So far she had only had to deal with Farkas concerning jobs for the Companions, something she was happy about because he seemed like the only friendly Nord there.
"Don't know." Farkas said gruffly, "He just said he needed to speak to you before you do anything else. I don't like making him angry, but there is some work for you if you want it."
Clear didn't say anything for a moment and took in that information and also Farkas' body language. If anything he seemed a little put out that he wasn't the one giving her jobs anymore, which must mean that she was finally moving up in the ranks of the Companions.
Not wanting to cold shoulder his friendliness he had shown her so Clear took a seat next to him besides the roaring fire and turned to look into his dark eyes with a gentle smile on her face.
"What made you want to join the Companions?" She enquired softly, watching his face change from surprise about having a personal question directed at him, to a large grin as he told the small elf his story.
"Vilkas and I have been here since we were little Whelps. Our father, Sergen, raised us here. Even Vignur couldn't remember Companions younger than us!" Farkas said proudly, pointing his thumb to his chest.
Clear's bright eyes looking at him intently, taking in everything he said with interest.
"What about you, little elf? Where do you come from?" Farkas asked curiously, leaning his forearms on his thighs, intent on getting a good story out of her, however he leant back confused when her eyes darkened intensely at his question.
Clear paused for the briefest of moments. What should she tell him?
"Valenwood is my homeland, however I am more of a wanderer, of sorts." The elf answered truthfully, though sparsely. Farkas eyes widened slightly in his achievement of getting some information out of the very closed woman.
"Ah, that can't be too bad! That's why I love the Companions, you get to travel all over Skyrim!"
Clear smiled softly in response.
"How come you don't sleep in the halls? There are perfectly good beds here – and a warm fire!" Farkas asked, grin adorning his features as he spoke of his home. Then added as an afterthought:
"You are welcome here you know? You're one of us now!"
Clear's heart panged painfully at his warm invitation and open friendliness. How many times had she belonged somewhere, where she had a home and friends, only for it to end in blood and ash or she had to watch them wither and die.
He long elven life was a lonely one.
She was one of the last Elvenhein blessed with long life, yet why did it seem like a curse? To save broken hearts and hurt feelings, Clear promised herself a long time ago that it was best to keep the knowledge of her lifespan to herself and only herself.
"I know I am and thank you Farkas for your kindness," Clear started softly, placing a slender hand upon his briefly in a comforting gesture, "It's just the elf in me longs for the outside and I hate to be cooped up in one place."
Watching his face fall, Clear added in an afterthought: "My camp is just north along the White River, not a far ride from Whiterun."
Farkas seem to brighten considerably with the thought of her staying close to the Companions, though Clear worried slightly if she should have really given her and Shadowmere's location away. They were comrades right? If it made him feel better, surly that information would be safe with him.
"Farkas?" Clear asked the man, after a moments thought. His eyes connected with her shining emeralds in a sign that he was listening.
"Do you know what your brothers problem is with me?" She asked in her velvet smooth voice, making Farkas' features soften in understanding.
Since the day she fought him, Vilkas had been avoiding her like the plague. At first she didn't mind one but, but now it was rather insulting that whenever she would enter a room, he would leave.
"Ah, don't worry about it little elf! He is like that with everyone, but he is okay when you get to know him."
Clear really doubted that, but wisely didn't say anything.
Feeling the cold and familiar claws of loneliness slowing ebbing away after her friendly chat with Farkas, Clear deemed it time to bid the Nord farewell in favour of finding Skjor.
Walking outside to get a moments fresh air, the elf spied the balding man sitting on one of the benches under the wooden overhang.
"There you are," Skjor said, lifting his head in a slight but solemn smile as Clear took a seat opposite him.
"You wanted to see me?" The elf asked, stony guard back up.
"I did. Your time it seems has come." The man said matter-of-factly, staring her out as if to see if she would back down.
Clear met his gaze patiently, he emerald eyes seemingly looking into his soul. The old Nord adverted his eyes slightly.
"What do you mean?" Clear asked carefully, measuring his reaction.
"Last night a scholar came to us, he said he knew where we could find another fragment of Wuuthrad. He seemed a fool to me, but if he is right, the honour of the Companion's deems we seek it out." Skjor explained, he had the expression of pure business – one that she copied easily.
"What does this have to do with me?" The elf asked again carefully, watching his features turn into an exasperated sigh like a hawk.
"This is a simple errand," Skjor started, though his tone suggested otherwise. "The time is right for your trial. Carry yourself with honour and you will be a true Companion. Farkas will be your shield sibling on this adventure, whelp. Try not to disappoint, or get him killed." Skjor added, features hard and an untrusting glint in his beady eyes.
Clear held her head high as she parted from his company. If only he knew how capable she really was.
Walking back into Jorvaskr, Clear brushed passed Vilkas' dark glare as he caught sight of her and headed straight to his brother, who had a grin from ear to ear as soon as her saw her.
"You're going to be my shield brother?" The elf asked warmly, tilting her head back to she could properly see his face. Nords were so tall!
"So I'm told, let's see if you impress!" Farkas commented, with a knowing glint in his eye.
Clear smiled softly in response, then after another moment's thought she asked:
"What is Wuuthrad?"
"Ysgramor was the hero who started the Companions. Wuuthrad was his weapon. He came from the ancient homeland and killed all the elves." Clear tried to supress a flinch at that, "But not all of them, because some of them are still here." He added kindly, placing a large hand on her shoulder in a friendly gesture, like he was so fond of doing.
With a slight smile on her face, Clear bade Farkas goodbye and quickly slipped though the heavy wooden front doors of the Companions home, and out into the streets of Whiterun.
Today she would hunt some deer and then see if she could fix up a shelter for Shadowmere in her makeshift camp.
Tomorrow she would start her first proper quest with the Companions.