Skyrim Audio-adventure
Chapter 7
"At the whims of a wolf."
The hunter awoke to the smell of buttery sweet rolls baking. He heard Bracknel through the wall already chatting away with the tavern owner Hulda. It was a bit rude for him to talk so loud so early, while people were still trying to sleep. He rolled over on a bed that felt far too good for the likes of him and woke up again with a start. He hadn't meant to do that. The conversation was gone replaced with the low hum of late morning life. This bed was dangerous, it pulled at him like a warm grasping lilac muck and he had to fight to pull himself out. When at last he dragged his legs over the edge and sat up something occurred to him, his body wasn't a house of pain.
The hunter resolved to never doubt the effectiveness of healing potions again. Sure he had had a great meal and spent the night in the most luxurious room he'd ever been afforded, but it was remarkable how quickly his bruises from previous night's scrap had faded. Most were gone completely and his battered knees fully functional. Even that little blister on his foot he'd noticed the night before had gone.
He threw the covers off and allowed the chill of the Skyrim to wake is mind and bring him sharply into the world. However there was only the mild warmth of the inn, that was something he'd didn't imagine he'd ever get used to. He reached for his furs and boots... but he didn't find them. Now he was awake; the absence of his consummate protection from the elements woke him up faster than the elements themselves ever could.
His room was small and simple, more of a closet with a bed than a room, from what he understood one would have to pay top dollar for the spiffy attic room. He flopped onto the floor and looked under the bed, nothing. He tossed the covers around and lifted the pillow, nothing. He checked in, behind, and to the sides of the little bedside drawer, and with a sinking feeling he realized that there was no where else to look. The room was too small and unfurnished, they physically couldn't be anywhere in here.
Thinking nothing of his nudity the hunter stepped out of the room and almost ran right into Hulda who blinked at him as he stepped back. "My cloths have been stolen."
"Yes they have, by me." she said smirking
"Where? Why? Bring them back."
"Please, you need to relax," her eyes glanced down for the briefest moment and closed her eyes suppressing a giggle "in more ways than one. Here I think that you need to read this." she said holding out a folded slip of paper.
The hunter took it and read, paying no heed to her comments on his current state, "Hello Stranger," he read, "While animal skins and sweat are fine for the wilds, I think it's best if you don't smell like mammoth droppings when you enter the esteemed hall of the companions. So as thanks for your entertaining contest last night I have arranged for Hulda to wash your cloths and offer you a bath. Aela."
The hunter took a deep breath to calm himself and squinted at Hulda. "You have baths?"
"Not at all." she smiled.
A few minutes later the hunter was gasping as a bucket of water was dumped over his head. The bathing facilities of the Bannered Mare were a couple modest blinds out back of the inn with sun-warmed rocks for sitting on. "Don't just sit there and shiver" Hulda scolded "Get scrubbing."
An icy wind came out of the north and the hunter wanted to crawl into himself as it whipped by, but instead he uncurled himself dipped his hands into the sudsy bucket of water, crushed canis root and artemisia. It felt somehow smoother than normal water and smelled fresh and fragrant. He cupped his hands and set about scooping it onto himself as Hulda stepped off to get more water.
As he toiled away at his armpits and nether regions his ears warned him of multiple sets of feet walk past. He poked his head up like a prairie dog and peaked over the top of the blind. He saw guards in there uniform gold sashes walking past talking to each other in relaxed tones. There was a path back there and considerably more traffic than he had been expecting for somewhere so removed. He looked along the path and to his surprise he found a door off to his left carved into a rocky ledge.
Hulda stepped back into the blind with a full bucket of water, and the hunter turned to her. "What's that door there?"
"Back there? That's the guard's barracks."
"I thought the barracks were by the gate?"
"Whiterun is a big place, we need lots of guards, and guards need beds. Now come down from there or i'll douse you where you stand."
"Do they have windows or any kind of vent or is it really just a hollowed out rock."
"I wouldn't know, you should ask them."
"I don't know if I like that ideaAHHH!" At the end of his sentence cold water was splashed along his back and backside. He instinctively shrunk and wobbled back over to the sun-warmed rock.
"Don't forget your hair!" Hulda called as she moved away again.
"Is-s-s th-there any b-b-breakfast?"
"A slice of apple pie for 2 silver."
"Is it warm?"
"Of course."
"I'll take it!"
Apparently it took his furs an awful long time to dry. He had tried to convince Hulda to give them to him wet, but she had refused saying "I don't want Aela asking me why you've got brown rot." And so it was that he sat in his room eating a large slice of apple pie in a loin cloth. Frankly he was hard pressed to call any of this a bad thing. It felt strange and gaudy for him. Even though he had handed Hulda the money himself, he felt like a thief, just being in this city he felt like an imposter. How did Bracknel so easily switch from his reclusive lifestyle to a city socialite?
"It's simple," Bracknel said "I've been here longer and they all know me."
It was noon by the time his clothes were dry enough to wear. Now he and Bracknel stood at one of the seldom used parapets looking south at the road they'd come by. The hunter knew the outlook was a lonely place because of how overgrown the steps leading to it were. Dust had become dirt, dirt had become soil and soil had seeded grass, till what was once a set of stairs was a choppy slope.
The forest stood now a towering green gateway just as grand if not more so than the gates of the city. It's frame the foreboding bleak falls mountain and the incomparable throat of the world. The green trees spilled out onto the golden fields like water springs from stone or even like a tongue hangs from a dogs mouth. It had been a long time since the hunter had seen the mountain like this. Skyrim is a big place but it's been said that you can see the throat of the world from all of it's corners, staring now at it's sheer enormity, the true final peak no where to be seen, he believed it.
"Well that's not what I'm saying. I mean it feels like you have a home here, so why do you live in a tree?"
"A few reasons. Some I share with you."
"Oh yeah? Like what?"
"We like to take people on our own terms, we're not too concerned with politics and the wild calls to us, we live for the land."
"You seem to know a lot about the war for someone who isn't concerned."
"War isn't politics, war is war, and I've seen a few."
"I suppose you have... so you get your footlocker?"
"I put it the commission, but the Battle-borns beat me to the punch. They've got Adrianne making steel for the legion. I'll get my locker in 3 weeks."
"Will we be here in 3 weeks?"
"We won't be here in 3 days. Which brings us to you, are you ready to go to Jorrvaskr?"
"I think so. Who are the Battle-borns?"
"Don't change the subject. You wanted training I got you training, plenty with far superior blood would give a small fortune for the opportunity I'm giving you. Now you need to step to it."
"I will, I will."
"They're just people, they're just as ignorant, simple, brave and intuitive as you are. Plenty to respect, nothing to fear."
"Ok... Let go."
"there you go lad."
"Not a lad."
"We're all lads." The elder hunter said esoterically and the pair stepped off into Whiterun.
Whiterun was built on a natural spring as it turns out. That tributary they had walked along the previous day had been run off from the city. With the plentiful water supply the city was not short of greenery. When they reached the market square a whirling twister of cottonwood leaves was skittering its way across the stones. The market was busy, food stalls that had been silent watchers of his and aela scrap the previous night were now full of shouts and smiling faces.
As he passed he found that not all the stalls were for food. One was a glass display of jewelry helmed by a graceful woman with silver hair and deep laugh lines on her face. "Jewelry," she called "crafted by the great Eorlund Grey-Mane himself." One was a run by a tall willowy woman with red hair and red makeup at the corner of her eyes and filled with all kinds of assorted odds and ends. The woman was tinkering with the hinge on small locket and didn't look up as they passed. Suddenly he heard a small familiar gasp, he turned to see a vegetable stall with a tiny face peaking out at him. It was Mila one of the children from the night before, he half expected her to leap onto the counter of the stall and bravely draw her broken sword, but instead she ran to tug on the skirts of an imperial woman with long dark hair and pale skin. When she got the woman's attention she pointed at him, the woman (he was guessing her mother) followed her finger and met the hunter's gaze. She narrowed her eyes at him and he looked away almost certain he'd just been called a bandit again.
At the end of the market square there was an impressive stair case that lead up to an ornate wooden archway inlayed with nordic symbology. It was framed by two water troughs, running with clear spring water. It was beautifully captivating architecture and feeling of unbelonging constricted into the hunter's heart like a vine girdling a tree as he and Bracknel ascended to the next level of the city. He wondered if this was how he always breathed or if he would breathing like a bandit. Would the guards be suspicious?
Whiterun is divided into three districts separated by walls and affluence. The plains district was the lowest and was comprised of huts with straw roofs, the occasional simple house and the much sturdier storefronts. Being the closest to gates it seemed to be the center of trade in the city. The highest level was Dragonsreach castle a structure that so dwarfed all those around it, that it was sometimes called the Cloud district. The district in the middle was call the Wind district. As the hunter crested to the stares to this level he was greeted with the sight of a large withering tree. I didn't look dead but it was hardly lively. He didn't recognize the type of tree either, its trunk was thick and it's branches spread out wide growing in irregular meandering patterns. The stone work was finer and the grass was well under control. Something moved to his left and he almost jumped out of his skin at the sight of a cow behind a fence. It turned its wide horned head and look at him with a thoroughly bored expression. Every house looked two stories and had a fenced yard of some kind. They were made of fine wood and clay and he swore he heard a dog barking somewhere far away. The Bannered Mare was probably the finest structure in the plains district but it was put to shame by every single structure in the wind district.
Alarms rang in the hunters mind but he silenced them and followed Bracknel to the right. Small bridges ferried them over the elegantly curving waterways as they weaved through the city trying no to make eye contact with any of the guards. Dragonsreach castle was looming large in their sight when the hunter spotted something so absurd he just stopped. There was a massive stone eagle up on the hill it's wingspan as big as any of the fine houses, and it seemed to be looking down at an overturned ship. He saw the domed shape and the keel for cutting the water sticking up clear as day.
"Well that's just silly." he muttered.
"That's where we're going."
"What the shit?"
"That's Jorrvaskr."
"I thought Jorrvaskr was a mead hall."
"It is a mead hall, and it's also built out of the ship that carried Ysgramour to Tamriel."
"By gods, they really flipped it huh?"
"They must have. Way before my time, I'll tell you that. Now go on you first."
"Hold on I have a question."
"You always do."
"Who are the Battle-borns, I'm actually getting curious now?"
"What? Oh just ask me over a drink later. Focus on now."
"You're late!" the two looked ahead to the wide staircase ahead of them and saw Aela sitting at the top in a fine but relaxed green tunic. The stitching around the shoulders was frayed from where she had apparently torn the sleeves off. She wore form fitting brown pants and her tunic was tied with a modest utility belt. Trust a hunter to carry a dagger, resin, file, skinning knife, and herbs when they were just relaxing.
"Well you're the one who thought I smelled like mammoth droppings so I'd say this is on you."
"I take it you smell more presentable now? "
"Why don't you take a whiff and find out?"
"Are you sure you want me that close?"
"...uhhhh well no I... well..." the hunter felt his mouth go dry and his mind split.
Aela chuckled "Ok relax pup, I can smell from here anyway. First things first lets go up to Eorlund and see about that finger."
The walk up to the Skyforge was interesting to say the least. They skirted the front of Jorrvaskr, old battered war shields hung like ornaments along the outer wall, gilded double doors still smelled of sea salt. As they cleared the edge of the building they could see several figures training in a open yard behind the hall. Two were shooting arrows into dense straw targets and two were slowly, and deliberately, moving throw great-sword forms and techniques. In the shade of a patio he saw the silhouette of a large bearded man in a loose shirt. He couldn't make off much else as before he knew it he was walking up stone steps into the nest of the giant stone eagle. Resting at the eagles feet and shattered by it's massive wings lay not a stone clutch of eggs, but the molten pit of a forge. Working the forge swathed in dirty white but for his smithing apron and an armored pants was a noble old nord whose grey hair seemed to clash with this rippling muscles. His thick giant skin gloves were black from handling his charcoal encrusted tools, and the skin on his arms was scared from old blisters and burns. Every inch darkened from a life in the sun and the flame. This was Eorlund Grey-Mane the master of the Skyforge.
Remembering the illusions the guard had made as to Eorlund's temperament, the hunter had decided to hang back and let Aela and Bracknel do what they did best and talk. It was at precisely this moment that he realized Bracknel was no longer with them. He look around frantically and finally spotted a Bracknel shaped shadow in the shade of the patio with the bearded figure. He looked back at Aela who was approaching Eorlund and gulped.
"Eorlund!" Aela called over the roar of the bellows.
The nord nodded in silent acknowledgment but otherwise stayed focused on his work. He was refining a small piece of orange hot steel into what looked like a pommel. He was hammering it against the pointed tip of the anvil and seemed to be searching of for a noble arching design. Aela motioned for the hunter to sit next to her on the rock and he did so.
For a few minutes the two just sat there and watched the master smith work. It was captivating how captivated he seemed, the look in his eyes was that of a man who had shrunk the world till it could be held in his hands. It was a focus the hunter had never seen and one neither him or it seemed Aela could match.
"You much of marksman?"
"I'm alive aren't I?"
"Not especially well fed though." she said poking him in the ribs.
He reflexively swatted at her hand but missed "I could say the same for you."
Aela tossed her head back in a condescending laugh "If we wrestled I'd crush the life out of you like a troll catching a rat."
"I'm not so sure, I measured up pretty well last night."
"You make it sound like you won. I pummeled you into the ground, then after breaking every code of honorable combat and spending most of the time running away. You got a lucky shot"
"And I also gave the wolf of Whiterun a bloody nose. And how many can say that."
Aela fixed him with a gaze that was not amused or annoyed "Alright a contest it is then." she stood up on the rock and called down to the two practicing archers. "Ria!" she called a young imperial girl in scaled armor looked up.
She wore the deflated head of a young elhorn on her shoulder and the hunter couldn't help but wonder if the horns affected her range of motion. Some people would have wondered what the creature was, but he knew. Some people would have wondered where she'd gotten it, but he knew where elhorn were most commonly fond and it fit with her imperial appearance. So no he sat and wondered if those horns affected her ability to shoot straight. "Yes, Aela?" she called back.
"My bow!" Aela said simply
"Oh, of course." Ria said before setting down her bow and running to retrieve Aela's from the patio.
"So does that finger effect your shooting?"
"Certainly. I shoot left-handed now."
"You switched?"
"Yep. You know it wasn't as hard as I thought it would be but the nocking of the arrow is really pesky."
"Ok I'll go easy on you then." Aela stepped over too the stairs and took her bow and quiver from the hurried Ria. "We'll shoot one arrow to the closest target. Center mass. Ria tell everyone to clear briefly, we're taking a couple shots."
The hunter peered down at the training yard as the figures moved to the protection of the patio; the round archery targets were practically beneath them, she must referring to the burlap and straw simulacrums of men that lined the outer wall 40 to 60 yards away. "What do you do when you want to practice from farther away?"
"Head up to Dragonsreach castle and scream look out below."
"Think we could try that now?"
"No, too much traffic and besides you couldn't make that shot."
"True I probably couldn't but I wouldn't mind seeing you do it."
Aela smirked at him for a moment. Without her facepaint she looked younger, older than him but not buy much. Her eyes however retained that predatory intensity he notice when they first met. That it seemed, didn't go away no matter how much mirth or warmth her expression held. "Then I'll just have to find another way to impress."
The hunter stretched his arms and stood up on the rock looking down at the yard, "The close on the far wall?"
"Yes, think you can handle that?"
"Well if we're looking to impress we might as well push it. I'm going for the far target."
Aela shrugged, "Have it your way."
The hunter unslung his bow an drew an arrow from his low hung quiver. He'd yet to make the adjustment to drawing with his left hand so his arrows were still on his right. His face burned for a moment as he clumsily handed his bow to his right hand and handed his arrow to his left hand, the wood made a clattering as he fumbled with it.
At last he stood arrow nocked and took a deep breath as he focused on his target. He raised his bow and lined up the shot. He glance over his shoulder at Aela, she was watching him levelly with those steel eyes, she seemed to have a knack for inflaming his bravado with one breath and dousing it with the next. "I just started shooting like this yesterday mind you." he mumbled sheepishly as if to dampen expectations. The hunter drew the string back and slowed his breaths.
"It shows." muttered Aela.
The hunters scowled, made a minute adjustment for a south bound breeze and released. An all too familiar sting burst into his stumped finger. Tears welled up in his eyes but he bit his tongue to keep from crying out. The arrow wobbled a bit on the way out but as the black fletchings caught the air it's flight straightened and less than heartbeat later it thwacked into the wood and straw head of the desired target.
Aela whistled, "Very impressive, a bit high but a killing shot none the less. How did it feel?"
The hunter cleared his throat but his voice still squeaked a bit as he said, "I felt good."
"Your eye's are watering."
The hunter lowered his bow wiped his eyes "Yeah well, must be a nip in the air."
"It hurts your hand to shoot like that doesn't it." It wasn't a question and the hunter knew it. He finally met her gaze, if there was pity in those eyes he couldn't spot it. However he did see curiosity.
"Not every time, but yeah." he conceded.
"Give me your bow."
The hunter was taken aback, "What? Oh uh sure. Its not a problem with the bow i've had it ages."
Aela took Laria and examined it closely from all angles, she held it and drew the string from both the left and right side, before peering down the points.
"Can I see your bow?" the hunter asked.
Aela seemed absorbed in what she was doing. "What? No."
"But I just gave you mine."
"Don't ask me to repeat your mistakes. Listen, you need a new bow."
"What are you talking about? That one work fine."
"It works fine for you. It's warped. Years of shooting right handed, have bent the wings. You don't have a problem because it's a slow process and you've been slowly adjusting your aim for years, without ever realizing it. Even left-handed you still understand how the bow behaves but it's not shaped for you anymore."
"I thought you said my form was off."
"It is and I'm sure that'll help, but it wont fix the problem." Aela set her quiver down against the rock and drew an arrow. She sat back down on the rock facing the forge and nocked the arrow. "Watch this, I just got this this bow a month ago." suddenly she arched her back an lay back across the rock, here arms and head hanging over the edge. She was preparing to shoot upside down.
She knew what she was doing, the hunter was almost sure of it. Not with the archery, there was no question there; but rather what she was doing to him in that moment. Gravity being what it is and the light cloth of the tunic being what it was, he was having a very hard time focusing on the her shooting form or the targets downrange. He felt his palms grow warm with sweat as she drew the arrow back to her anchor point. Right as she smoothly and effortlessly released the arrow, he caved and snuck a peak at her lithe contours. She had to know what she was doing to him it was impossible that she was that oblivious.
He was brought back to Nirn by the distant thud of Aela's arrow burying itself deep in the bullseye of the targets chest. With a shack of her auburn hair and a hook of her knee on the rock she sat up easily and fixed him with a familiar smirk. "Impressive enough for you?"
The hunter was caught up in the rhythm of banter so he quickly opened his mouth to respond however as he had nothing all that came out a "uhhh arabitdt fambibiababid, it a good shot."
Aela chuckled, "Thank you. Do you think I could split your arrow? I bet I could," The huntress grabbed another arrow and lay back once more.
"Uh actually I only have a four..." the hunter began before being cut off but the wooden creak of the bows wings. Then flwip, arrow flew across the yard and landed a whole inch away from his own.
"Hmm missed, one more shot."
"No no no, I only have four arrows."
"You can buy more."
"Not if I'm buying a new bow."
"So you are going to get a new one."
"I doubt I could afford one actually."
"So you can spend the money on arrows?"
"Aela, please don't break my stuff."
"If you can't afford a broken arrow I don't very much see how you can expect to employ me."
Aela and the hunter turned abruptly to see Eorlund Grey-Mane standing, arms folded, regarding them steadily. Aela nodded to him and turned to call "Range clear!" to all those taking shelter in the patio. As the warriors began to trickle back into the yard Aela turned back to the legendary blacksmith. "Afternoon Eorlund."
"If this is about your shield you'll need to wait a bit longer." Eorlund rumbled with a calm enigmatic gaze.
"Not to worry, I'm not here for that. In fact I'd like this new project to take prescience."
"Are you going to pay for this ragamuffin?"
The hunter internally growled at that, so much for the bath. Maybe he should tie his hair back, or invest in some actual cloths.
"I will cover any expenses but I assure you that once you hear what he needs you'll want to give me a discount."
"I highly doubt that but I'll listen."
Aela looked expectantly at the hunter who felt his nethers retreat into him as Eorlund's gaze followed. "Go on stranger, tell him."
"Well, I was bow fishing out on lake Illinalta. When I ran into some Vampires and..."
Eorlund's eyes had already glazed over and he felt Aela's sharp elbow in his side, "Tell him what you want him to do."
"Oh right," the hunter held up his right hand, "I need you to fix this finger."
Eorlund seemed very taken aback. One of his eyebrow twitched, which was more than any of his face had done to that point. "I believe you're barking up the wrong tree. The healers are down at the temple."
"The healers can't fix this but you may be able to replace it."
Eorlund tried to look disinterested but his eyes were fixed on the hunters mangled hand. "Most with such injuries would just settle for a hook hand or count themselves lucky that they kept any of they're digits."
"I must learn sword play and I cant properly handle a blade of any weight without that finger."
"Why don't you switch to your left side?"
"His left side is shit." Aela piped up.
"What she said, I say the jewelry in the market, 'Crafted by the great Eorlund Grey-Mane himself' you don't just make blades and shields."
"I don't know of any device as delicate and intricate as the one you propose."
"Then who better than the great Eorlund Grey-Mane to craft the first."
"Hmm," Eorlund wandered away across the high flat workshop that was skyforge, he came to the edge that looked south over the plans and stared off pensive into the middle distance.
Aela leaned into the hunter ear, "Well done," she whispered "He's already started building it."
Eorlund spun around strode back to them at pass that was not hurried nor relaxed, "I'd expect that you've be wanting a sword that can protect your fingers in future encounters?"
"I, uh, that would be ideal yes."
"There are swords of that make out west, I haven't made the like since I was a student. Nords have a taste for the straight blades and cross guards. This will be something different."
"What will it be?"
"It'll be what you need. How many days are you here."
"Two more days."
"Come by tomorrow to be fitted I'll get you that finger before you leave. Don't expect the sword for a number of weeks that will be a longer process."
"Ok... I'll see you tomorrow morning then."
"Hmm." was the only response he got as it seemed Eorlund had already returned to his work.
The hunter looked to Aela bemused but pleased, she was beaming right back at him. "Thanks again."
"Don't mention it"
"What are we doing next."
Aela's excited gaze was beginning to worry him as she said "Now, we make a warrior out of you."
The hunter was not prepared for what the rest of the day held. He had thought there would be some light sparring and an introduction to sword play, forms and techniques, drills. Instead challenged him to a race around Jorrvaskr. He started off slow, not wanting to overtax himself but Aela immediately blew past him and competition demanded the he follow. When that race was over she insisted they go again, only this time, rather than run around the patio they had to leap up to grab the overhang and scrabble up and across it. Not only that but they had to do it three times. Then he lay down and they dropped a log as thick as he was on his chest, and he had to lift it repeatedly. His lifted stones, he lifted logs and he lifted himself. He pulled up to the patio overhang and down again, up and down, up and down. A bunch of people were shouting at him, encouraging him in tones that didn't sound particularly kind.
Of course he was tired, he was exhausted almost immediately. He was not a sprinter his body was not built for this kind of output, he was a strider, built for distance and quick explosions when need. He'd never considered the idea that he would need to move this fast and this hard for this long. "Do you really think your enemy cares?" Aela asked looking down at him. They had been doing more laps of Jorrvaskr when he had jumped for the overhang, slipped and smash into a table on his back. "Do you think they'll wait? There will come a time when you need to match their pace. You died a hundred times over last night just because you couldn't keep up." The hunter knew she was right but this whole thing was beginning to feel like an attack.
When at last he pick up a sword several things were wrong. First of all, his limbs had returned to jelly and was wondering if another healing potion would help, secondly it was practically sundown and his stomach was beginning to protest loudly, and final this sword was ridiculous. It was a blunt iron rod almost as long as he was tall, lined with dense mountain mahogany. He tried to lift it like a sword and it was a hellish thing.
"I don't, plan to use many greatsword." he said sheepishly.
"Of course you don't." Aela said patiently. "The training bars for greatswords are over there." she pointed to a couple bars that might was well be trees that were leaned against the yard wall.
As the first bit of mercy the hunter was given all day, he was not asked to swing the stick of misery, only to block with it. However considering his precarious grip with the thing this was perhaps more for Aela's benefit than his own. Did not work on the swift parries and counters, but more on direct blocking. It was a maneuver Aela emphasized as vital. "When your enemy has outmaneuvered you, outsmarted you, and gotten past every line of defense the last thing you'll have at your disposal is to risk your blade with a straight block. So it must be fast and strong. However, as you showed me last night, sometimes even that isn't enough."
They worked well into the darkness, until all of Jorrvaskr's onlookers had trickled inside. It was good to finally be alone with Aela. He found it easier to focus on what he was doing with the blocking drills, in fact he felt his mind adjusting to the tactic and hypothesized a wide array straight blocks that bore the potential for counters. If only he was capable of moving with any bit of haste he might be able to practice a few. He wondered if his sword would be sharp on both sides or only one, the idea that he could incorporate other grips into the block was exciting.
The other reason he was glad to be alone with Aela was that he didn't feel as awkward looking at her. The sweat on her skin glistening in the torchlight, her tunic clinging to her in all the right places. The flickering light fire can make many things appear as if they themselves are moving and flickering as if fluid but not Aela. Her stoic form stood resolute carved of marble, more solid than the stone around her. At one point, delirious with fatigue, he almost began to laugh; for as enthralling as her enthusiasm for the intricacies of combat was, she truly was brazened and oblivious. She carried no intention toward him. He was just a means for her to talk about the things she loved the most.
"Ok, that's enough for today." Aela finally said.
The hunter could hardly believe it. The training bar clattered loudly as it hit the ground, he hadn't felt himself let go. He staggered back and leaned against the wall, panting ragged painful breaths. He tasted blood ans spat onto the ground, but there was no trace of red. He tried to move his fingers but he couldn't; they were all locked stiffly into a curled position, as if still holding the training still. He chuckled and coughed his saliva feeling thick and heavy, so ended a day at the whims of the wolf of Whiterun.
"How often do you do that?" he was finally able to ask.
"A few times a week." she answered clearly somewhat amused to see him writhing around like a dying worm.
"From the start?"
"In the beginning I did this sort of thing everyday until I was worthy. You don't have that luxury."
"Yeah... luxury." the hunter dragged his fingers across the flat surface of the wall in an attempt to uncurl them. "I did get lucky last night huh, you're amazing."
Aela chuckled "Thank you, but no. You really got me in the end there, used what I do best against me, and there is a lot to be said for someone who understands where he is standing."
The hunter felt his ears darken, he took a deep breath and sighed out the feeling. He wasn't used to praise so forthright and unambiguous. "Thank you." he said in a numb tone.
Aela approached and placed a hand on his swaying shoulder, "You should be pleased, you got stronger today."
"Can't say I feel it, I doubt I could hurt a rat."
"You look plenty dangerous to me, come on lets get inside."
"Are we going back to the mare?"
"No, Jorrvaskr."
"Now that I smell like dirt and sweat."
"You smell like someone who worked hard and needs a good meal."
The hunter peer around at the equipment scattered across the yard, "Shouldn't we put this away, you don't want anyone taking it right."
Aela chuckled "We're the companions. No one dare steal from us."
The doors of Jorrvaskr opened and the hunter stepped into the fabled hall of the companions.
Heat blew into him and dried some of the cooling sweat on his brow, a long stone pit fire was raging in the center of the room. Taking in the oblong hall, the hunter saw banners hung everywhere, they're varied embossed emblems set in motion buy the gentle winds of the fire. Weathered weapons and shields were displayed on the walls like fine works of art, the nicks, dents and grooves all telling stories of their own. To his right, sitting below ornate tapestries depicting warriors on boats arriving to a new land, was a door that smelled strongly of cooking food. To his left, set aside from all else, seeming to stand as the centerpiece to this living museum, was a shattered weapon hewn of blackened steel. It was incomplete, most of the pieces missing, but the way that they were framed made it clear what this thing was. A huge double bladed battleaxe.
Surrounding the fire pit on three sides was a long table and waving at him from the right end of it was Bracknel. As the hunter walk over he was the table was heavy with a feast the likes of which he'd only ever dreamed about. Feasting from this bounty were warriors of every shape and size, all laughing and talking amongst themselves. The din assaulted the hunters ears but he didn't feel the claustrophobic pressure as he normally did.
Bracknel jovially waved him over to the empty chair next to him. No sooner had he sat down before a woman the hunter didn't know leaned over his shoulder and placed a clean plate in front of him. "Thank you, Tilma" the old nord called behind the hunter. "So Stranger you're alive."
"Barely," the hunter wheezed, he hadn't realized how weak his voice sounded while he was outside in the quiet of the evening. Now he could barely hear himself over the crowd.
"Here have an ale, that'll help."
"Water would be fine." the hunter said though it was clear bracknel wasn't really listening. "Say wasn't there something you were going to tell me over a drink?"
"Was there? What was it?"
"You know I can't even remember."
"Eh must not have been very important then. Here I want you to meet someone. This is Kodlak White-mane the harbinger of he companions."
The hunter was almost to exhausted to be shocked... almost. His stomach still dropped into his boots as Bracknel leaned back to reveal a venerable old nord with sweeping white hair and beard match. Eyes a deep soft blue like the depths of twilight squinted at him through a wrinkled noble smile. A nordic Tattoo curled around his right eye and snaked down his neck. "Greetings Stranger, welcome to Jorrvaskr."
"T-thank you," the hunter blanched at how frail he sounded, he cleared his throat and continued "Its an honor to be here. News of the companions exploits reaches far, even to the deep wood."
"Oh you speak well, do you get many books out in the woods?"
"No but I make a point to read when I can."
"That's good, a keen mind is often undervalued in Skyrim. I thought you did well today, very few can keep up with Aela the way you did."
"Respectfully I don't know that, keep up is the proper term."
"But I do know, trust me, Aela is a handful for most of us, and most whelps can hardly stay conscious through the day. She's the wolf of Whiterun for a reason. It's a shame that you don't with to stay with the hall, but I wonder then why you've embarked on this quest for strength."
"The wilds are a harsh place to live and they've taken their toll on me. At first I thought if I could buy the strength to break all that can be bought then I might buy myself the right to be left alone. But now, I wonder if I might find some purpose, some way to carve into the world and shape it as it has shaped me."
"A wise man shapes his world with the warmth of his heart, it is a fool who would seek to do so with a blade."
The hunter hadn't expected such a ready response. "I must admit that sounds strange coming from a man who carved out his a own legacy on the field of battle."
"I do not relish violence. How well I fought was never as importance as why I fought and if the road of peace was ever an option I would take it. I wish we had longer to speak. I would offer you the tails of glory and true honor to be found in this hall. However I feel that both you and the hall are searching for a different purpose."
"It's true I do not feel that this is my path, but if there is anything I can do to pay for your hospitality and training I'd be happy do it."
Kodlak did not answer at first, rather he glanced to Bracknel who had pursed his lips. There was a question in his eyes, Bracknel seemed to shrug in response but the hunter couldn't see his face. Kodlak nodded solemnly and looked back to the hunter. "It is a generous offer, perhaps one day I will take you up on it. In the meantime eat, please, be our guest."
The hunter nodded, choosing not to pry, and greedily filled his plate with potatoes grilled leeks and meat pie. Sitting back he changed the subject "If I may ask, what does it mean to be a companion?"
Kodlak snorted and look out at the rambunctious rabble at the table, "I expect you'll get a different answer from all those you see here. Even the twins Farkus and Vilkus. For some its a way to get money, some wish to take part in the ever growing legacy of the hall, some just want a good fight, and some are looking for a family."
As if on cue the far end of the table erupted into chaos, a dark elf in light hide armor that didn't protect much, had leapt up onto the table and dove at a nord woman with dark hemet-matted hair. The two fell back onto the ground and under the uproar the hunter began to hear the dull thuds of fists against flesh.
"And the kids are at it again." Kodlak said tiredly.
"Who is that?" The hunter asked over the scrapping of chairs as everyone else hurriedly formed a circle around the brawl and started placing bets.
"Thats Njada Stonearm," Bracknel explained "and the dark elf is Athis."
"Athis, that name sounds familiar."
"It should, he's your sparring partner tomorrow, assuming he lives of course."
The hunter didn't have time to ponder the many troubling things that statement held before a firm hand clasped his shoulder and pulled him out of his chair. "Forgive me, but I need to borrow him for a moment."
"Go right ahead," Bracknel said filching a cut of roast potato from the hunter's plate.
And so the hunter was pulled away into the dark corner behind a support beam, beat red the whole way from the realization of who it was doing it. Aela the huntress swung him around and pinned him to the beam her steel blue eyes almost glowing as they bore into his.
Compared to how he'd been treated throughout the day this was a pat on the back by comparison. He took a steadying breath and calmly met her eyes. "What do you want Aela?"
"I want you in my bed tonight" she breathed in a husky tone.
The hunter couldn't stop his heart from fluttering but his eyes narrowed at the warrior. "Horse shit..." he said after a moment.
Aela grinned at him "Ah, glad you finally figured that out, I could feel your eyes on me all day. Do you fall for every woman that beats you up?"
"You know I very well think I might but thats besides the point. What do you want?"
"Well after buying your gear and training you all day I've decided that I am also owed a little favor."
"And what would that be?"
Aela's eyes grew fierce then, her steely blue eyes broiled hot as magma. "If Kodlak ever asks you to perform a task, go out on a quest for him, if you value your life, you will turn him down." The hunter didn't respond frozen by the honest bloody intent behind those words. When if offered not retort the wolf of Whiterun smiled, "I'm glad we understand each other." Then she was gone, leaving him standing alone, pressed into the shadows of Jorrvaskr. He stayed there until the his soon to be sparring partner was body slammed through a table and knocked into the next morning.
