Middas, 10th of Hearthfire, 4E 201

Planning to make contact with the Thieves Guild gave Kjell an odd nervous feeling, somewhere between giddiness and anxiety. He spent days planning out exactly what he wanted to communicate to the guild, and then days more waiting for the right opportunity to make his way back to Honningbrew Meadery alone.

He wasn't without reservations, even on an act as simple as checking in. There were a few small worries – namely that guild leadership would deem the risk posed by the Companions too high to justify the potential reward and would order him to extract himself and return to Riften. He had to frame this job as practically a done deal, and a guaranteed success – which posed another problem down the line: living up to that hype. In truth, although he hadn't gone through every inch of every drawer and cabinet in the place, in the time he had spent with the Companions so far, Kjell hadn't really found much worth taking, other than money. If one believed that stories and legends were based on even a single grain of truth, the Companions' hall should have been brimming with riches and priceless artifacts, trophies collected over the course of history. Sure, the Companions had plenty of coin, but if Jorrvaskr held treasures, Kjell had yet to find them.

Hidden, Kjell thought, that must be it. Whatever items of value they have must be hidden somewhere for safekeeping... He'd have to be on the lookout for any safes, secret doors, or conspicuously locked rooms around Jorrvaskr from now on. In the meantime, however, corresponding with the guild should be a priority. So, Kjell slipped out of Jorrvaskr in the afternoon to head back to Honningbrew Meadery. It wasn't necessarily that he had to sneak away. The Companions were free men and women. Rather, Kjell didn't want anyone deciding to tag along, so he decided to take his leave unnoticed.

A long walk later, he entered the meadery to find it surprisingly full of patrons, there to stop for a rest, sample the drink, get a hot meal in them, or whatever else they might be doing there. There were several tables set up this time to cater to a few different parties. Kjell found an opening at the bar counter and stood in it. After only a brief moment, the owner, Sabjorn, was there with a bottle of mead and asking Kjell if he was interested in any food to go with it.

"I'm looking to meet a friend here," Kjell began, "actually more like a distant relative, by the name of Adam Tiler?"

"Sorry," Sabjorn said. "I don't know anyone by that name."

Kjell scanned the room as Sabjorn went to tend to more customers. So Sabjorn himself wasn't associated with the guild... It seemed bold to Kjell that someone might carve that shadowmark on a business they didn't own. Still, there were at least two other people he had seen to work in this place. Maybe it was one of them instead.

"You the one looking for Adam Tiler?" a gruff voice said into Kjell's ear several minutes later. It belonged to a Cyrodiil with dark, scraggly hair who was carrying a tray, clearing empty bottles from about the room.

"Yeah. A little bird told me he's a family man," Kjell answered. "Distant uncle of mine, apparently."

"In a sense, yes," the Cyrodiil said. "But this isn't exactly a dive."

"I'm just doing a bit of flag waving, but I need to get in touch with an upright man in the meantime," Kjell said. "No business right now."

The Cyrodiil evaluated Kjell before answering. "In two days when it's getting dirty I can catch you in the city. I'll get your word sent, so long as you can throw in a bit of expense money for the trouble."

"Fine," Kjell rolled his eyes. "Two days."

With that, he set his own empty mead bottle on top of the Cyrodiil's tray and left the meadery, heading back to Jorrvaskr. What have these times come to, Kjell thought, when you can't even turn to your own brother without him expecting a bribe? Kjell could easily spare a bit of coin to get contact made, but it didn't stop him from thinking that guy was a jackass.

. . .

Turdas, 11th of Hearthfire, 4E 201

In the days following Kjell and Torvar's errand to the meadery, there was no real work to be had, at least for the more junior Companions. Kjell, along with Torvar, Njada, Athis, and Ria spent much of the time simply training.

"Sooo... any tasks for us?" Torvar asked chipperly Turdas morning.

"Actually," Farkas said, turning to Kjell, "Skjor was looking for you earlier."

"Me?" Kjell asked, a bit surprised. "What did he want?"

"Not sure," Farkas said. "But he doesn't like to be kept waiting."

"Got it," Kjell said, raising his eyebrows. "I guess I'll go find Skjor."

"Pffffft," Kjell heard Njada huff as he turned away. "Why would Skjor have anything for him?"

With a smirk, Kjell walked back into Jorrvaskr to find Skjor. He wasn't in the main hall. So, heading down the stairs to look in the living quarters, Kjell almost ran headlong into him.

"Oh, there you are," Skjor said.

"You wanted to see me?" Kjell asked.

"I did," Skjor confirmed. "Last week a scholar came to us. He said he knew where we could find another fragment of Wuuthrad," Skjor explained. "He seemed a fool to me, but if he's right, the honor of the Companions demands that we seek it out."

"Uh... what does this have to do with me?" Kjell asked, not quite following.

"This is a simple errand, but the time is right for it to be your Trial," Skjor spelled it out for him.

"OH," Kjell said, realization suddenly dawning on him.

"I almost regret this now," Skjor grumbled under his breath. "Farkas will be your shield sibling on this venture. Conduct yourself with honor and you'll be a true Companion."

Kjell wasn't sure if Skjor was finished, or if he was supposed to say something back. The two stood in awkward silence for a moment, neither moving or speaking.

"Try not to disappoint us," Skjor finally said. "Or get Farkas killed."

"Uh, you got it," Kjell said, taking that to signal his dismissal. "So, I guess I will go back to Farkas now."

"Yeah. You do that," Skjor said.

. . .

"So you did know what Skjor wanted me for," Kjell said when he got back to Farkas.

"Yeah," Farkas admitted, "but I wanted to let him tell you. Anyway, I hope you've readied yourself. We should get moving."

"Right," Kjell said, stepping off the veranda in stride with Farkas. He could hear Vilkas in the background as they walked around Jorrvaskr, giving the others tips and pointers on their form as he watched their training. They didn't sound excited to be working with him instead of Farkas.

"So about this whole 'trial' thing," Kjell said, "I didn't know there was a test. I mean, aside from that thing with Vilkas when I first got here."

"It's not that bad," Farkas said. "Skjor thinks you should find the piece of Wuuthrad, and I'm supposed to watch you and make sure you're honorable."

"Sounds simple enough," Kjell said. "By the way... what exactly is Wuuthrad?"

"Ysgramor was the hero who started the Companions," Farkas explained as they came to the city gates. "Wuuthrad was his weapon."

"And we're going to retrieve a piece of that same weapon?" Kjell asked. His mind perked up at the thought. That was exactly the kind of artifact he was on the lookout for.

"Of course," Farkas said. "We have part of it already in Jorrvaskr. We hope to gather all the pieces and reconstruct it one day."

"Maybe soon," Kjell said hopefully, "if leads keep coming in like this."

"Maybe," Farkas agreed.

The two headed out of Whiterun and west on the road. They passed the partially collapsed watchtower where Kjell had turned north to get to his last job. Kjell wondered how far away this Wuuthrad piece was. Farkas only walked confidently forward, giving no readable indication of where or how far they were going.

"Where exactly are we headed for this thing, anyway?" Kjell asked.

"Wait," Farkas said, stopping suddenly. "I thought... you knew. I just kept walking cause you didn't tell me to stop."

"What," Kjell said sharply, just as Farkas burst out into booming laughter.

"I'm only joking," Farkas said. "We're going to a place called Dustman's Cairn. It's just off the road up here a ways." Casually, Farkas began walking again. For a few paces, Kjell just stared at his back.

"Woooooooow," Kjell said, jogging those few paces to close the distance and falling in stride with Farkas again. "Just, wow."

The rest of the walk to Dustman's Cairn was uneventful. Without Farkas there, Kjell was sure he would have walked right past the place, even though it was directly adjacent to the road they were walking. Kjell should have guessed, he supposed, that this place would be a tomb.

"So... we just go in?" Kjell asked.

"The piece of Wuuthrad is supposed to be inside," Farkas answered. "So... yeah."

The first room inside the tomb was a mess. Several bodies were strewn from their graves and a brazier, which had been lit, was overturned.

"Looks like someone's been digging here," Farkas said. "And recently."

"They left their equipment, though," Kjell noted, gesturing to a shovel and a pickaxe propped up against a wall. "They probably found what they were looking for and left. Hopefully they weren't after the same thing we are."

"Still. Tread lightly," Farkas said, with reservation in his voice. He seemed to think something felt off, and Kjell agreed.

"Be careful around the burial stones," Farkas added as they ventured deeper into the tomb. "I don't want to haul you back to Jorrvaskr on my back."

As they found their way to the next chamber, the scene remained the same. Bodies flung from their resting places, fragments of broken burial urns across the floors, tables and braziers overturned. Even I have more respect for the dead than whoever's been in here, Kjell thought.

The next area had a gate closing the way farther in, and an alcove with a large lever inside of it. Well, this seems obvious, Kjell thought. But, when he pulled the lever, it only locked him in the alcove.

"Yeah, dummy, this does seem obvious," Kjell berated himself under his breath.

"Now look what you've gotten yourself into," Farkas said with a bark of laughter, jogging lightly over to the heavy gate that the lever had dropped between Kjell and the rest of the room.

"Well, excuse me for not supposing the ancient Nords would set up booby traps for people trying to visit the dead," Kjell snapped in frustration, only causing Farkas to laugh harder.

"No worries," Farkas said, stifling his laughter. "Just sit tight. I'll find the release."

Suddenly, a group of people, armed and armored, appeared from all sides of the room. Thieves? Kjell wondered, straining to see if he knew any of them. Did they come from the coffins..? he thought, suddenly understanding why there had been bodies everywhere.

"It's time to die, dog!" One of the voices rang out.

Oh, Kjell thought. So they're not thieves, then.

"We knew you'd be coming here," another voice added.

Aaaaand there's probably no Wuuthrad piece then, Kjell's mind went on. The foolish scholar Skjor mentioned was... probably one of these guys. The ambushers went on.

"Your mistake, Companion."

"Which one is that?"

"It doesn't matter. He's one of them, he dies."

"Killing you will make for an excellent story."

All this while, Kjell's thoughts were flying through his head. Why didn't I know the Companions had such bitter enemies? Will they kill me too? If I survive, what will I say to Skjor? He specifically told me not to get Farkas killed. Or... gods, what would I tell Vilkas? As much faith as Kjell had in Farkas as a fighter, he didn't like his chances of survival four-on-one. While Kjell's thoughts raced, Farkas threw down his sword.

"None of you will be alive to tell it," Farkas said ominously.

Suddenly, every muscle in Farkas's body seemed to bulge and strain against an invisible bind. His limbs and extremities elongated, and he burst out of his armor and clothing. Fur rapidly covered his body. The ambushers began to attack in a frenzied panic, and this beast that was Farkas batted their weapons away with ease. Within moments, each of the ambushers was brutally slain, and the beast had bounded off somewhere further into the tomb. Kjell was frozen to the spot, no longer sure what to think.

A moment later, the heavy gate keeping Kjell in the alcove opened. Farkas came running back around the corner, man once again and dressed only in some now ragged pants – the only untorn remnants of his clothing. He looked overall relieved, but as he approached, Kjell instinctively backed away, staring open mouthed and eyes wide.

"I hope I didn't scare you," Farkas said.

"What. Was that," Kjell interrupted before Farkas could say anything more.

"It's a blessing given to some of us," Farkas explained. "We can be like wild beasts. Fearsome." He sounded rather proud.

Kjell took another step back. Farkas's face fell.

"I'm sorry I didn't have time to warn you..." Farkas said. He seemed genuinely regretful of Kjell's discomfort.

"Are you... are you going to make me become a werewolf?" Kjell asked nervously.

"What?" Farkas said. "Oh, no. Only the Circle have the beastblood," he explained as a matter of fact. "That was just to handle those guys. You're only here to prove your honor to be a Companion."

"I see..." Kjell said, eyeing Farkas carefully, reevaluating him.

Farkas still seemed trustworthy, all in all, Kjell decided. Not telling people about the werewolf thing was an understandable omission, and given how readily and openly Farkas had just spilled all of the beans once his secret came out... Kjell was starting to wonder whether Farkas even had the capacity to lie outright.

"Eyes on the prey, not the horizon," Farkas added. "We should keep moving. Still the draugr to worry about."

"Do you really still think there's a piece of Wuuthrad in here?" Kjell asked. "Isn't it more probable that these people set this up just for the ambush?"

"Maybe," Farkas said, "but we might as well check. I don't want to have to come all the way back here if we leave and it turns out there is a piece."

Farkas collected his armor back up from the ground, picking it over. It had popped off during his transformation and was now mostly broken. Finding that he wouldn't be able to rig it to stay on properly, he looked over the bodies of the ambushers and scavenged a few mismatched pieces from them. These he put on directly over his body, as his clothes, minus the pants, had been torn during his transformation as well.

"Good thing this guy has big feet," Farkas commented, taking the boots off one of the ambusher's feet and putting them onto his own. "Can't imagine running through this place barefoot."

"Hah," Kjell agreed, watching Farkas still with a look of amazement.

"Alright," Farkas said, as ready as he was going to get without heading back to Jorrvaskr to resupply. "We should keep moving."

. . .

"Need a break?" Farkas asked Kjell when they reached the heavy door leading into the crypt.

Neither man had any idea what time of day it was anymore – only that they'd been walking forward through this maze of a tomb for hours. They fought their way through draugr, and even some more of whoever those ambushers were, along the way. It was nothing they couldn't handle – Kjell was even pretty sure he had impressed Farkas with a few good knife throws. But the exertion in the dank, stuffy tomb did work up quite a sweat. Farkas was developing a fine film on his skin, as the dust their presence kicked up stuck to his sweat. Kjell was sure he was just as dusty.

"I'd be more comfortable resting after this is over," Kjell said. "How much more can there be, anyway?"

"Fair enough. Lead on, then," Farkas replied, gesturing readily to the door.

This entire tomb had been immensely larger than Kjell had thought possible, given its unassuming entrance off the road. Farkas had only shrugged at his comment, so they made their way through the door.

Of course, Kjell was wrong. The place continued to wind for several more hours. Neither man suggested a stop again, though, both now determined to see the tomb through to the end first. Kjell did note that the two of them made a solid team, Farkas taking the front line position and Kjell taking on a ranged role with his throwing knives and keeping opportunistic draugr off Farkas's back.

"I'll be damned," Kjell said when they finally reached the end chamber. "There it is... right?"

Laid on a burial altar was a small piece of a carved blade. Farkas leaned in to examine in closely.

"That's it," Farkas confirmed.

"Now we can get out of here," Kjell sighed in relief.

"Yeah," Farkas agreed. "Do you think you can make the walk right now? We need to get back to Jorrvaskr. They need to know about that ambush, even if we did recover the piece of Wuuthrad."

"Who were those people anyway?" Kjell asked, as his feet carried him toward the exit.

"The Silver Hand," Farkas said. "Bad people who don't like werewolves. So they don't like us, either."

"Right," Kjell said. "I almost forgot. The Companions are werewolves."

"Not everyone," Farkas corrected. "But all the Circle are. It's a secret to everybody."

"Except me," Kjell pointed out.

"Yeah..." Farkas said thoughtfully. "Like I said, we should get back."

"Wait," Kjell said, stopping just inside the door. "Just so I know what to expect... are they gonna kill me now that I know?"

"No!" Farkas insisted. "Of course not."

Kjell agreed to go back. Even if he hadn't, he figured, Farkas could just physically take him there if he had to. They exited Dustman's Cairn into the light of dawn. Shit, Kjell thought, there goes my meeting with the fence... He didn't even have the energy to be that upset about it. All the way back to Whiterun, he reflected on what had just happened and what it might mean for him going forward, and he wondered if he would be willing to alter his humanity for a chance to infiltrate the Companions' inner circle.

. . .

Fredas, 12th of Hearthfire, 4E 201

It was well into afternoon when Kjell and Farkas made it back to Jorrvaskr. By this point, both had been awake and on the job, so to speak, for well over a full day. They likely would have been faster on the road back to Whiterun if their bodies hadn't been as tired as they were.

"Nice work out there," Farkas said as they approached Jorrvaskr. "I'll go report to the Circle. You, take some rest. You earned it."

Kjell did as advised, heading straight for his bed in the shared room below. The sleep he fell into was uneasy, filled with dreams of savage man-hunters and ferocious beasts. He certainly didn't need a fortune teller to explain what that was about. When he woke, he needed some air.

Emerging from the back doors onto the veranda, Kjell found that the night was well underway. He knew, of course, that those he shared his sleeping quarters with were all asleep. Finding the upstairs hall of Jorrvaskr empty, he assumed all the rest were, too. So he was surprised to step outside and find Vilkas sitting among the training dummies against the city wall, as he often did. Kjell nodded in acknowledgment and took a step off the veranda and out from under the roofing so he could take a look up at the sky.

"How'd it go?" Vilkas asked, approaching Kjell.

"You already know, don't you?" Kjell asked. "You're part of the Circle." Suddenly, Kjell realized what he was saying, and what that must mean. So... you too? he wondered, looking Vilkas up and down.

"I was on a job myself when you got back. Just returned not long ago. I'll hear about it tomorrow," Vilkas said.

"Oh," Kjell replied. "Well, then... it went well. I think." I'm still alive, so that's a good sign...

"I'm a little surprised you're awake," Vilkas commented.

"I am, too," Kjell said. "My body is sore, but my mind insisted on waking."

Kjell took a deep breath in and stretched his neck and shoulders, then released. He was trying to loosen up some of the stiffness he'd built up over the last day cycle. Vilkas watched him and seemed to be mulling over something.

"Up for a walk?" Vilkas asked finally.

"Uhh... sure," Kjell agreed. In truth, he didn't much want to walk. But he did want to see where this was going. Kjell didn't really know where he stood with Vilkas, though he would judge that their relationship had been improving as time went on.

Vilkas grabbed a lantern from one of the tables on the veranda and they walked through the city, empty except for the odd passing guardsman. The weather was decent for Hearthfire, and an occasional breeze rustled the leaves still hanging on the trees, and those dancing along the ground. This, along with the babbling of the waters flowing through the city's canals, made the night so comforting that Kjell almost didn't notice they were headed for the city gate.

"Where are we going?" Kjell asked, stopping.

"I have something to show you," Vilkas answered simply. "To help you relax."

"Outside of the city, in the middle of the night?" Kjell asked suspiciously.

"Well, come or don't," Vilkas said, rolling his eyes. "I'm still going."

"Okay, okay," Kjell gave in, catching up with Vilkas as he carried on walking.

"Don't worry," Vilkas said, more annoyed than assuring. "I'm not gonna do anything to you. And it's not that far. Maybe an hour's walk. If you're slow."

Kjell followed the rest of the way in silence, just hoping Vilkas wasn't leading him all the way out here to... transform into a werewolf and eat him, or something. After a bit of a walk, they stopped at a spot where a rocky dam blocked off part of the stream that meandered about the plains west of Whiterun. Past this little dam structure, which created a pleasant little fountain, the water pooled, still flowing, but gently.

"I think I know that stream. I'm pretty sure I jumped over it once," Kjell said.

Vilkas scoffed, but Kjell was pretty sure he was just stifling a laugh.

"But... what are we here for?" Kjell asked, glancing around at the moderate tree coverage around the spot as Vilkas walked to the edge of the water and set the lantern down on the ground.

"...The hot spring?" Vilkas said, as if it were obvious.

Kjell looked again and this time noticed the steam rising off the water. Vilkas was already pulling off his boots. Kjell found it hard to keep his eyes off of Vilkas as he finished removing his boots and raised his arms overhead, pulling off his tunic.

"And... this is safe?" Kjell asked hesitantly.

"What are you so worried about?" Vilkas asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Just... someone showing up, I guess," Kjell admitted. "You know, bandits, or whatever." That wasn't exactly it. But close enough.

"I've been coming to this spot since I was a teen," Vilkas said. "Never seen another soul here. It was always my place to get away from the noise of everyone else and just relax."

"Then why'd you bring me here?" Kjell asked with amusement, raising an eyebrow.

"You're quiet enough," Vilkas shrugged. "And it will help your muscles relax." He spoke in a manner that seemed almost shy, but in any case he was right.

Vilkas finished stripping down to his underclothing and stepped into the water, wading over near the little fountain that flowed into the pool from the rocky dam and sitting down on a flat rock that was in the perfect position, leaving him sitting with the water at chest height. This water was crystal clear, and Kjell busied himself with taking his boots off, keeping his eyes on that. But once he had stripped down himself and gotten into the warm, comforting water, it was hard to keep his eyes off of Vilkas's body, and Kjell found himself taking glances every few seconds. At first, he was just looking for any obvious signs of lycanthropy. But Vilkas wasn't particularly hairy...

"What?" Vilkas suddenly said, snapping Kjell out of his thoughts and back to the present moment.

"What..?" Kjell asked.

"You keep staring at me," Vilkas said. "What are you staring at?"

"Nothing," Kjell insisted, watching the lantern light flicker across Vilkas's features. He was no longer looking at Vilkas to find proof he was a werewolf.

"I should go," Kjell said suddenly, getting up out of the water and hastily starting to get dressed.

"What? Why?" Vilkas asked, confused. "Don't. Stay. I can go."

Vilkas stood up from the pool and moved toward the edge of the water. But Kjell didn't stop putting his clothes on. Vilkas stepped fully out of the water and walked over to Kjell.

"You really don't have to leave," Vilkas insisted.

"No, I do," Kjell answered, now pulling on his second boot.

Kjell stamped and tapped his feet into his boots to adjust the fit, as he had rather unceremoniously shoved his feet into them rather then put them on as he normally would. As he stood up straight from bending down to his feet, Vilkas reached out and grabbed him by the shoulder, gently but firmly. Kjell was about to protest and insist again that he had to leave, but before he could get a word out, Vilkas stepped in and kissed him. Kjell's lips returned the kiss hesitantly. He felt like his feet were stuck on the spot, until Vilkas broke away. Kjell disappeared back toward Whiterun before either of them could fully process what had just happened, and Vilkas didn't chase after him.