Dawn of the Companions

by gingerlyspeaking

Four months after the death of Alduin, a growing evil builds in Skyrim once again. Struggling with coin—the Dragonborn, Mimzi, joins the Companions in Whiterun. Only to discover the ranks of Jorrvaskr harbour a dark secret. When tragedy hits Whiterun, the Companions leave their hall under a vengeful calling with unlikely allies to save Tamriel from catastrophe.

2. The Companions

Chapter 1: The Companions

On the high noon of the 28th of Evening Star, the sun shone gladly upon the inhabitants of Whiterun. The winds blew chillingly still amongst the bright, fruitful streets and the people bustled down the cobblestone pathways; carrying on with their duties. A Whiterun guard hobbled out of the Bannered Mare after a few pints, and his vision was hazy from the inebriating mead. Adrianne Avenicci came marching up through the Plains District, her eyes fixed on the guard.

She held an uptight scowl and badgered, "She's still out there… did you even speak to her?"

The guard released a dejected sigh and rubbed his eyes, "Ugh… of course I did. You know how she is, what do you expect me to do?"

Adrianne declared in a slighted tone, "My father is the steward, he would tell you that it's against the law to set up camp within the town limits. Ulfberth and I couldn't sleep a wink last night, she was out there chopping wood after midnight! She won't listen to us. I don't care if she's Thane of Elisif the Fair, she has to go!"

The guard threw his head back and groaned, "Alright, alright! I'll go talk to her... again."

The guard treaded down the Plains District and took a left turn before Adrianne's stead, Warmaiden's. To its close right was a campsite with a smouldering fire pit and scattered garbage before the tent's entrance.

He stood to the entrance and bellowed in an impatient tone, "Mimzi! Up and at em'. Let's go."

Mimzi laid face down into her bedroll from within the tent with a light snore as she was still in deep sleep.

"Mimzi! Wake up! It's the townguard!"

She jolted as she awoke and shot up from her bedroll, "What? I'm up!"

She scrambled out of her bedroll. She had fluffy unkempt, auburn hair which were riddled in curls that had grown in the months that had passed; yet still not reaching her shoulders. Her freckled cheeks were blushed from her deep slumber, and she wore a blue tunic with a girdle, and travelling pants and fur boots. She crawled from the entrance and raised a charming smirk, "Oh, hi. Did I violate the 'law' again?" Mimzi asked dopily.

"Enough," the guard broke sternly, "You know you can't be doing this, Mimzi. I'm getting tired of hauling myself down here to tell you the same thing over and over. I'm giving you another fine and taking you up to Dragonsreach. I've warned you this was eventually going to happen."

Mimzi balked, "What?!" Then scrambled out of her tent, stumbling over loose pots and fumbling firewood. She bleated, "No one has an issue with me camping out here?! Don't you have better things to do than harass the homeless?"

The guard groaned, "I did… then Adrianne came and found me."

"Oh for the love of…" Mimzi hissed under her breath and protested, "… that woman is going to kill me. Look, she's mad at me cause' I used her forge without 'asking her first'. She's got a bit of a vendetta but come on, when have I ever given you a hard time? I'm just trying to make a livelihood here!" she pleaded with her hands clasped and raised.

The guard sighed, "It's out of my hands, Mimzi. If I let you get away with this, then I got Brenuin doing the same thing tomorrow. You want to live in Whiterun then you have to purchase property and get a job like everyone else. Until then, you're squatting. Which is violating the law. Now come with me…"

Mimzi blurted "Wait!"

She stood her ground, "I… have a meeting with the Jarl! I'll tell you what, I'll meet you at Dragonsreach and we'll deal with it. Sound good? Sounds good to me," she scrambled inside her tent to retrieve her knapsack.

The guard scolded impatiently, "No, doesn't sound good. You're under arrest, Mimzi, what about that don't you understand?"

She blathered, "What's that?!"

She squeezed up from the entrance, trying to stall as long as she could. Mimzi pranced to the side of her tent and away from the guard with a friendly simper and added, "You know, Jarl Balgruuf's counsel comes first. So I'm sorry… but we'll get it sorted out eventually right? You're a good man, you know that? Talos guide you!" she began to run past the beckoning guard and scurried up the incline of the Plains District.

The guard huffed, "Mimzi! You can't squeeze your way out of this again by batting your eyes at the Jarl! I'm tearing this little settlement down and when you get back, you'll have nothing!"

"I know you won't do that!" Mimzi blurted passed her shoulder, "I make your day brighter, you know it!"

She bolted through the Plains District with her bag flapping in the wind behind her. Scurrying up the steps she thudded shoulders against Carlotta Valentina's; the produce trader in the market.

Carlotta barked back up the stairs to her, "Ahh! Watch it, Mimzi!"

Mimzi called back, "Sorry!" Then continued her fast pace up to the Cloud District. She passed the Temple of Kynerath and Jorrvaskr; Hall of the Companions. The cold, winter winds blew ferociously as she pounced up the steps to the great doors of Dragonsreach. Through the entrance she was embraced again by the warm air and tempting scent of delicious, home-cooked meals. Mimzi had been scrounging for food and living off the kindness of Whiterun's honest folk for weeks. However, her favours ran stale and pleads became droll to the townsfolk, who now rejected and ignored her simpers for help. Her coffers were empty, and despite the odd jobs of mercenary work and deeds for the Jarl; Mimzi's source of income was scarce. She needed money and she needed her blade put to work, whatever it may be.

As she approached the court of Jarl Balgruuf he sat slouched in his throne, with a dull, vacant glower as Proventus Avenicci rambled on politics and other pressing matters within the city. As Mimzi sauntered up to him, he perked up and beamed a smile at the fresh-faced young woman.

"Ha! You're back! Did you get that cave cleared then?" The Jarl raised to Mimzi.

She said sarcastically, "I did, and it was three bears, not two. So, that was a nice surprise."

He replied, "Ah. Sorry about that. Could have sworn the bounty stated two. But nevertheless, you handled it well by the looks of you. Well done," Jarl Balgruuf praised then looked to his steward, "Proventus! Fetch a purse of coin for…"

"Actually," Mimzi interrupted, "I need you to tell the townguard I can set up camp in the city. I'll skimp on pay but I need somewhere to stay without hearing I'm getting hauled to the dungeon every time I wake up…"

Balgruuf sighed, "Mimzi…"

She begged. "Please? This city, after everything I've done for its people; I deserve this. It's a small ask— small." she implored trying to remain as humble as possible.

"I can't have you squatting in the streets of Whiterun and not paying taxes. Why not set up camp with the Khajiit outside the city? You'll be safe out there," Jarl Balgruuf suggested.

She let out a frustrated groan and claimed, "No. This is my home, I'm not some traveller anymore. All due respect, my lord, but I've earned this and deserve it. I'm worth more to you close. Please, just a few more days… a few more bounties. I'll be able to pay off Hulda and can get my room back."

Jarl Balgruuf's eyes went steely as he began to lecture, "I don't have anymore bounties to spare, you ran through the last of what we had. Our gratitudes, of course, but we were more than generous with our compensation. You spent that already then I don't know what else I can do for you."

Mimzi released a groan, "I need food, and supplies. My shield got broken last trek and I had to buy a new one. I got new armour too, as my hides were worn. I'm starting from rock bottom here. Every step I make, something happens, and it's two steps back. Last time I tried to live in the plains I was woke up to a damn sabre cat destroying my things. I need to work! But I can't work if I have nowhere to stay."

Jarl Balgruuf chimed, "Have you thought of paying a visit to the Companions?"

Mimzi paused and uttered, "Why would I do that?"

"Well…" The Jarl chortled, "You need gold, don't you? A bed and food? They have all that and you have the skill for battle. It's a perfect match."

Mimzi dismissed, "They won't accept me, they don't even know me."

Jarl Balgruuf claimed proudly, brimming a grin, "The heroine that trapped a dragon in the palace? That defeated Alduin the World-Eater? The Dragonborn? Ha! Why wouldn't they?"

Mimzi scoffed angrily, "Because I don't believe in using my blood to get ahead. Being Dragonborn… it's my past now. I'd rather keep it that way. I don't need that title haunting me, anymore."

Jarl Balgruuf raised a brow, before advising kindly, "Your title hails fame and fortune. It's a waste if you don't at least use it to advance to power… Keep your secrets as you wish, but you're just the kind the Companions represent, aside from your dragon blood. You're honourable, courageous, and a damn stubborn mule! You'll fit in like a cup of mead in a Nord's clasp there. Go to Jorrvaskr, meet Kodlak Whitemane; the Harbinger. He can put you to work straight away with a free bed and meals, daily. Not to mention a shield sibling at your back through every clash. The Circle are excellent trainers and highly respected in the city. You'll flourish there, Mimzi. I know it."

Mimzi's blood ran hot as she refuted the thought, "I work better alone."

"Then…" The Jarl crawled up from his throne and stood face to face with her, "Your best bet is out in the stables or with the Khajiit. Good luck, Mimzi."

Mimzi huffed in frustration as the Jarl made his way back to his quarters with his steward in pursuit. Proventus quickly looked back to her and handed a purse of coin.

"Here you are, try not to spend it all in one place… again," Proventus glowered and handed the coin purse to Mimzi; who snatched it away.

She ambled out the palace. Even with the purse of gold in her grasp, she maintained a solemn glare as she struggled to ponder a solution out of her predicament. Her stomach ached and mouth left parched after days of malnourishment. Mimzi quickly paced back to her camp. As she arrived, the camp site was gone, including her belongings.

Mimzi's heart thrashed as intense anger ensued at the sight of her armour, weapons, and camp materials, all missing. A nearby guard stood to Warmaiden's with his arms crossed and his back rested to a wooden pillar of the building. She stomped up to him holding an irate glare.

"You!" She blathered, "Where are my things?!"

The guard responded nonchalantly, "You were warned, weren't you?"

"Where are they?!?"

The guard shook his head and groaned, "Where do you think? Gorm hauled all that up to Dragonsreach dungeons after you fled from arrest again. You want it, go patter your way up there and pay your damn fine."

"What's the fine?!"

The guard grumbled while not making eye-contact with the infuriated young Nord, "Dunno. Have to ask Gorm. Best get to it, a lot of the guards were eyeballing that pretty Akaviri sword of yours. Me? Little too tiny for my taste but hey— each their own."

She huffed and sprinted up through the lower districts and back to Dragonsreach. Carlotta was placing fresh tomatoes into her display as Mimzi thunked passed her again, stumbling the trader forward.

"Dammit, Mimzi! Watch where you are going!" Carlotta shrieked as she slowly picked herself up from the ground.

Mimzi blurted again, "Sorry!"

She ran up to the palace; this time taking a right before the bridge to the palace doors; which led a bending path down to the dungeon's entrance.

Inside the dungeon, light was only provided by candles and torches. It smelt of old hay and dried blood inside the dank prison. Straight ahead was the head jailers quarters and the guard; whom had attempted her arrest. He sat at the desk writing in a large journal before noticing the glaring young woman.

"Here to pay your fine then?" The guard chortled, "Or spend a few nights in here dungeons?"

"What's the fine?" She asked, then whined, "I didn't think you were serious, Gorm. All my life was in that tent!" she stepped forward to the guard.

"I've been serious for weeks. Today let's just say I finally had it. It's fifty gold, and that's generous," Gorm rested his arm over the back of his chair and leaned his head to one side.

Mimzi glared, "Fifty gold for camping by Warmaiden's… are you kidding me?"

Gorm aloofly responded, "I could fine you the usual a hundred gold for squatting if that suits you better?"

Mimzi rolled her eyes and pried for her purse of a hundred gold, she took out fifty coins and placed them on the table for the guard.

Mimzi counted aloud, "One, two... three, four and five. There, should be fifty septims," she grumbled as she set five sets of ten coins in front of Gorm, who smirked.

"Paying your dues, keeping your tents in the plains, all good ideas to avoid this from happening again, Mimzi," Gorm advised as he pulled the coins in closer to him.

"If I wanted your advice, I'd ask for it…" Mimzi replied petulantly.

The guard stifled a bout of mocking laughter and remarked, "Whoa, easy there. You're a lot more charming when you need something, that's for sure. Come on. You were the one who trapped that dragon here, you even flew on the things back! Now look at how the great have fallen. I was certain you were going to be Skyrim's next greatest legend. It's depressing seeing you living in that tent, scrounging for scraps." The guard patronized, shaking his head in disappointment, "It's a shame… really."

Mimzi's brows furrowed, she clenched her fists and said bitterly, "You can take your pity and shove it tenderly up your ass, Gorm. Where are my things?!"

"In that chest…" Gorm smirked; gesturing behind him, "I'm just doing my job. No need to take your misfortunes out on me."

Mimzi stomped to the chest and pulled out her scabbard and fastened it to her waist; sheathing Dragonbane and her bow to her quiver. She snatched her shield and grabbed her fresh armour. The cuirass was tight and made of leather and hide but coloured a dim, faded beryl. It had two iron shoulder pads, leather pants and strapped boots with padded leather and iron gauntlets. Amongst the armour was a black travellers' cloak. She shoved the gauntlets into her knapsack and took off her fur boots and fitted the straps on as she equipped her new ones, leaving the fur boots behind. She curled a scowl in annoyance as she noticed things missing.

She shouted at the guard, "Where's my tent?"

The guard replied, "Oh, that? We had to… dispose of it. Can't risk the chance of you putting it back up in city limits…"

"That was my property! What is wrong with you all?!"

The guard shrugged, "Well, if you had listened to us the first ten times we asked you, we may have let you keep it. Consider it a measure to prevent this from happening again."

She slammed the empty chest shut and shook her head, angrily gathering her things and walking passed Gorm.

"Good luck out there, Mimzi…" The guard added, "Stay out of trouble now."

"Daedra take you," Mimzi growled to the guard then marched out the front doors of the dungeons.

She quickly made her way to the Bannered Mare; desperate to spend her remaining 50 gold on some food.

She reached Carlotta's stall and alarmed the merchant with a hearty yelp, "Hello Carlotta!"

Carlotta shrieked, "Ah! Mimzi! Mara's mercy, mind yourself for once!"

The young Nord perked up, "That's what I'm doing! I'm actually here to buy food, I'm starving. Can I have an apple… and cheese… and bread. I'm not done, you got a good memory right?"

Carlotta crossed her arms and shook her head, "Not a chance… how much do you still owe me? Like over a hundred gold? Haha! Pay that first if you want my service."

Mimzi faked a smile and blathered, "Oh, come on Carlotta. You'd let me starve? You know I'm good for it! I'll pay it all off when I can, I promise!"

"By the heavens…" Carlotta cursed, "You're worse than Brenuin. You're not my problem. I already have a little girl to feed, Mimzi. Get your life in order already."

"Hmph," Mimzi huffed, "Fine, be that way. I'll go ask Hulda, she's a lot nicer anyway," she angrily marched up to the Bannered Mare, but yelled back, "And she doesn't stick her butt in my way all the time!"

Carlotta balked and yelled back, "Because you're always running into it, you clumsy beanpole!"

Ignoring the merchant outside, Mimzi eagerly ambled into the inn. She yearned for something to eat and drink, and possibly a room. She made her way inside the Bannered Mare where she was immediately met by the icy glare of Hulda, the innkeeper. Mimzi perked a playful smile as she approached the steely Nord woman, whose returned expression was less than welcoming.

"What in Ysmir's beard are you doing back here?" Hulda growled as she crossed her arms, "Unless you have the money I'm owed, you can leave."

Mimzi chirped happily to the innkeeper, "Well as it so happens, I just got paid by the Jarl! What was it? Thirty gold for the three nights, right?"

"Bah!" Hulda snapped, "More like seventy and I may let you stay in my inn again."

Mimzi balked and stomped her feet, "Seventy?! Are you insane? Where'd you pull that number out of— your rear end?!"

Hulda threw a bar rag over her shoulder and snarled, "You spent three nights here overdue, I let you stay out of the kindness of my heart, and you lied to me. Not to mention all the mead and food you scammed me out of. Now that you've insulted me— again, I say eighty gold. Pay that or get lost."

Mimzi began to whine, "I only have fifty gold on me, come on, Hulda. Look," Mimzi composed her self and rested her brows, "I'm sorry. I can pay you forty, okay? But I need some gold left over so I can at least buy some food. I haven't eaten in days… I'm starving."

Hulda interjected, "Enough, I've heard it over and over. Your sob stories and batting those pretty little blue eyes don't work, anymore. You are a grown woman and it's about time you start acting like it. Now pay the eighty gold or get out. I'll call the guard if I have to. Last warning."

Hulda straightened up and puffed her chest out as she tapped her fingers on the bar counter. Mimzi rolled her eyes and sighed dejectedly. She stayed looking at Hulda pitifully.

Hulda raised her voice in a stern tone and yelled sharply, "Now!"

Mimzi pleaded, "Please! At least let me warm up! It's freezing outside! I'll sweep, mop, I'll serve— I'll do anything! I don't have anywhere else to go!"

She resented the idea of being kicked back out to the cold of Whiterun without a tent to stay warm in. Hulda huffed at the sight of her forming tears and sighed deeply, then relented.

"Fine. But only if you give me fifty coin. Then you'll owe me thirty gold, which is a tad better than the eighty. You'll be allowed here but I'm not serving you or accommodating you— not until you pay your debt. I'm serious, Mimzi."

She sighed in response, "Okay… that's all I have, but fine… take it…" Mimzi threw her purse of gold on the table for Hulda to snatch up.

"Hmph," Hulda scoffed and presumed her duties around the inn. Mimzi rested by the fire, still clutching her armour as the warmth began to relieve the red chill to her cheeks. In less than an hour of the day, her money from her latest bounty was gone. She was famished and parched. She rubbed her fingers over her forehead and front of her hair; brushing it back as she exhaled shakily in anguish. Without any bounties to complete, or opportunities for coin, she groaned aloud.

Hulda perked up and spoke to Mimzi, openly, "You know, when I'm down in hard times, I had to scrape by through any means. Even if it was cutting wood or sweeping the shops; I made my living from nothing, too. You're an adventurer but maybe it's time to think about honest opportunities like the rest of us."

Mimzi slowly looked up from the fire with an aloof stare, "I was never one for honest work, no offence."

"Maybe that's your first problem," claimed Hulda, "If I didn't have Saadia I'd offer you work here. There is plenty of shops and jobs around town. You just have to ask…" Hulda explained as she placed raw sweet roll batter into the clay oven to bake. "Whiterun, it's an excellent place to live; if you are willing to work hard."

Mimzi replied, "Of course I am. But that's not what I'm trained to do. I have all this knowledge…" She paused as she clutched at her aching stomach, then continued, "I know how to fight… that's what I'm meant to do and there is no bounties, no tasks, no anything. I've done everything I can for Whiterun, and now that I've fallen on hard times, you all just cast me aside like nothing…"

Hulda cracked a chuckle, "Don't be such a fusspot. You were paid for those jobs, were you not? You served us, we served you. That's how it goes in life, kiddo. Opportunities are not favours, it was a transaction…"

Mimzi rolled her eyes and stated, "Oh yeah, that's your successful business owner advice?"

"It is," boasted the Innkeeper, "I'm damn good at what I do, just like how you are good at fighting. Have you ever considered joining up with the Companions? They may have just the kind of work you are looking for…" she recommended.

Mimzi buried her face in her hands then scoffed, "Jarl Balgruuf and now you? No, I don't need people bossing me around or telling me how to fight or what to fight. I had to deal with that enough. I'm not doing it again…"

"That's not the Companions…" Hulda continued, "There are no leaders in Jorrvaskr. Kodlak Whitemane gives counsel, but he's not their leader. You get your jobs by the Circle. Aela, Skjor, Vilkas and Farkas; they are a fiery bunch but they are heroes to Whiterun. It's no different than getting your bounties from Dragonsreach, except you have a roof over your head and food to eat; if you are willing to test your mettle in bloody battle. That's what the Companions can offer you."

Mimzi sighed, "… And what if they don't take me?"

Hulda informed, "There is no reason for them to refuse you, unless you give them a reason to. You're a fiery lass— you can convince them! You won't know till you ask…" she slowly ambled over with a piece of stale bread and flask of water then crooned down to Mimzi, "I've always liked you. You're a good sort, even when you test my patience by not paying me. And I have a soft spot for the downtrodden. I know in time; you'll do what's right."

Hulda lightly placed the bread and flask into Mimzi's palms, who looked up in delighted surprise. She began to munch down her bread, which tasted crumbly and dull of flavour, but any food was rejuvenating. She chugged the water from the flask and breathed loudly as she gasped for air. She sighed in deep relief and smiled up thankfully to Hulda.

Mimzi said, "You're a sweet woman, Hulda. I can't thank you enough. I just wish I had the money to pay you…"

"Go to Jorrvaskr and get it then. Cause that's all you're getting from me," instructed Hulda, walking back to her bar. Mimzi sighed and rested into her bench as she continued to eat her bread and drink from her flask.

The more she heard of the Companions and joining their ranks, the more anxious she became. Her time with Delphine taught her the hard way, not to trust or depend on others for her own worth. She quickly realized working alone was the only method for herself to get things done without the needless distractions of others. However, without money for food or shelter to stay warm from the bitter cold, she wouldn't be able to survive. She'd become like Brenuin, the town beggar, or go back to thievery from when she was in Elswyer or Cyrodiil. Mimzi resented both outcomes. She promised herself she wouldn't go back to living as the urchin; not in Whiterun, the city of Skyrim's pride. She had downed dragons, falmer, centurions, forsworn, and other loathsome creatures that plagued the gleaming province. She had conquered a terrible evil. Mimzi's destiny as Dragonborn was fulfilled, and now in peace she revolted the idea of living off the streets like a typical pauper after the journey she had conquered.

Mimzi grabbed her armour and marched out the doors of the inn, "Thank you, Hulda," she muttered on her way out.

"Good luck, Mimzi," Hulda nodded to her as she walked back out the inn and back into the streets of Whiterun.

She made a determined slog to the Wind District passed the market and up the steps. She took a right passed the running stream and towards Jorrvaskr, a hall built under the ship that carried the ancient Companions through their conquest along the White River. She ambled up the steps to the two sets of front doors to the mead hall of warriors. With her armour clutched in her arm, she walked into a crowd and a booming brawl to her left to the other side of the feasting hall. Inside the mead hall was a wide dining table that was built along the giant, roasting ground fire that cackled loudly, keeping the entire main hall comfortably warm. It smelt strongly of steel, sweat and old ale. There were half eaten dishes of food scattered among the table in mounds of mess. A feeble, older woman slowly gathered the cutlery and dishes as a clashing brawl took place to the other side of the hall, with crowds of armoured warriors chanting and egging the fight on.

"Put your back into it!"

"Your right hand needs work, hit harder!"

"Are these two at it again?"

Their voices clamoured in excitement at the brawl between a dunmer man in hide armour and a tall, brawny Nord woman in iron chainmail. They punched and dodged each other's attacks, barking insults at one another in between strikes. Mimzi was stunned to make entrance into such a scene and slowly ambled over to the crowd that spectated the fight.

The Nord woman punched the dark elf into a neighbouring chair— concaving it upon impact. The revellers erupted into laughter. The dark elf shot up and tried to pursue her again, before the woman tackled him to the ground with throwing punches. He lifted his forearms to block her strikes from walloping his head. The dark elf then kicked hard between her groin, where she yelped and flopped to his side in pain.

The dark elf sneered, "Ha! Works on women, too!"

"I'll send you back to Vvardenfell, knife-ears!" Nord woman snapped as she resolved and leapt back over him in a scuffle.

There was a man in dark steel armour with black fur from the cuffs of his shoulders and waist, carved in Nordic design— he stood closest to Mimzi. He had wrapped linen along his arms and a carving of a wolf along the collar and waist of his armour. He had receding, long, gray hair. Two red lines of war paint on each of his bony cheeks, and one of his eyes scarred and blinded. He smelt of the musty outdoors, and almost noxious scent like the stench of a wild animal. He grinned with his thin lips as he beamed at the fight.

"Come on, Njada! Where's your stone arm?" The man chuckled in a low grisly tone.

Mimzi peeped at the man from below his eye level, "Um… excuse me?"

The man startled at the small, fair, young woman before him, "Who are you?" He asked, "This isn't a place for the commoners to come gawk. Move along."

"I'm…" Mimzi stammered nervously as the man rejoined his attention to the brawl, "I'm here to join up. Can I join?" She asked aloud to the man.

He returned his gaze to her, in a slighted expression, "… You want to join… the Companions? I heard that right?"

"Yeah. Who are you? Are you Kodlak?" She asked, stepping back from the two brawlers.

"Is this a joke? How old are you? You just thought you'd stumble in here without a clue and we'd gladly take you in arms?" The man began to belly laugh and shook his head before snarling, "Not a chance… get out. We have all we need here. You don't want to get those hands of yours roughed up, do you, sweetie?"

He turned his attention back to the brawl, where Mimzi grew an irate scowl and growled back, "You wanna bet?"

He flicked his eyes back down to the young Nord, still standing before him and glaring up with her icy, steeled blue eyes.

The man nodded and stretched his lips before relenting, "Alright. You want to make a fool of yourself I won't stop you. Head downstairs to the living quarters, continue right down that hallway till you reach the last chambers. If Kodlak vouches for you, you're in. Till then, stay out of my sight."

Mimzi ventured right down the hall and passed the dining table. She searched ignorantly for the barracks entrance. She ambled up a few steps where the old woman set dishes onto a trolley.

She peaked a question to the elderly woman, "Excuse me, how can I get to the living quarters?"

The old woman took a moment to hear and realize that Mimzi was speaking to her and then crooned, "Oh! Just down those steps into the floor there," the woman pointed down to a reclining stairwell built into the floor of the hall which held a painted and carved Nordic door.

Mimzi nodded and returned a bright, kind smile, "Thank you," she walked down the decline and through the doors. The living quarters had a wide, domed, stone bricked hallway adorned in tables of fresh food, tapestries and tasteful carpeting. Banners of red and designs of a large axe adorned the hall. The room adjacent to the entrance were filled in cots, and chests, decorated lazily with hanging swords, shields and used armour laying on the floor and over drawers and end tables. Further right down the hall she treaded slowly as two hallways followed down each side of the domed hall: holding a couple private chambers on each side. Straight to her path was a wider entry to another chamber. It was skirted by tables, Nordic carved furnishing, and hanging racks for more steel weapons. She could hear hushed discussions in the chamber ahead. As she approached, the discussions became more audible. It was of a man with a husky Nordic accent, speaking troublingly.

"But I still hear the call of the blood…" The man breathed in distress.

"We all do. It is our burden to bear," an elder man's voice chimed in a strong, wise tone, "But we can overcome…"

The husky voice replied, "You have my brother and I, obviously. But the rest, I fear, won't come so easily…"

As Mimzi entered the quarters it was regally decorated in tables and chairs, lit up by candlelight placed in the horns of goats, and bookshelves brimming in tomes. To the far end of the room were two Nord men sat amicably at a table holding council. One man wore the same steel armour as the one she had encountered in the main hall: with dark steel, carved wolves and Nordic designs, black fur cuffs and boots. He had shaggy, centre parted, jet black hair, that reached the back of his neck and hung passed his forehead. Around his eyes were painted in dark ink, and he had faded facial stubble. He had piercing, icy silver eyes, and a sour, troubled scowl riddling his face. He looked to be in his early thirties. The other man was much older, and had fine wrinkles and gray, long hair adorned in small braids to the sides of his head. He had a long white beard and warm, auburn eyes. He wore the same armour and smiled warmly at the Companion seated across him.

"Leave that to me," the older man said.

Mimzi lightly knocked on the side of the door frame, catching the pair's attention. The older man gleamed a welcoming smile to the visitor, while the younger man remained an uptight glare at Mimzi.

"A stranger comes to our hall." The older man declared with a light smirk.

Mimzi stammered as she slowly walked into the chambers, clutching her folded armour to her chest. She spoke clearly but not too abrasive to offend, "I'm Mimzi… I'm here to join the Companions. Are you Kodlak?" She asked to the older man, while the younger scoffed, resting back into his chair.

"Are you now?" The older man said, "Yes, I am Kodlak Whitemane. Let me take a good look at you… come closer."

Mimzi pattered closer to the pair, as she did so an overwhelming smell of musk wafted up. She ignored the stench and stood straight for Kodlak to examine.

"Hmm…" He hummed, "Perhaps… a certain strength of spirit," Kodlak smiled.

The other man grunted as his brows furrowed, and pleaded, "Master… you're not seriously considering accepting her?"

Kodlak said back at the Companion, "I am nobody's master, Vilkas. And last I checked; we had open beds for those with a fire in their hearts."

Vilkas relented a humbler expression as he amended, "Apologies… but perhaps this isn't the time. I've never even heard of this outsider. Look at her. What can she throw in battle?"

Mimzi clenched her teeth discreetly and contained her offence as Kodlak rejoined, "Sometimes the famous come to us. Sometimes those come to seek their fame. It makes no difference; what matters is their heart."

"And their arm…" Vilkas scoffed as he paced his disapproving eyes over Mimzi.

"Ah, of course," Kodlak agreed, and asked to Mimzi, "How are you in battle, girl?"

She paused before stoically stating, "I can handle myself."

"Hmm…" Kodlak pondered, "That may be so. This is Vilkas," he gestured to the Nord seated across from him whom still attained a scowl, "He will test your arm."

Kodlak looked to Vilkas and instructed, "Vilkas, take her to the yard and see what she can do."

Vilkas replied reluctantly, "Aye…" He stood from his seat, and walked past Mimzi with clanging armour. He looked back at the young Nord and grumbled, "Let's get this over with then. Come on."

Mimzi jolted with a baffled expression and rested her armour down to the end tables outside Kodlak's quarters before following Vilkas closely out to the yard. They paced through the domed hall and back up to the main floor. Mimzi struggled to keep up to the fast-pacing Nord, who walked with an irate jaunt. She followed him outside to a yard on the walled skirts of Whiterun, overlooking the plains far below the reaching hill of the Wind District. It had stuffed dummies for practice, archery posts, and a roofed patio filled with tables full of flagons and mugs. To the right table sat the brawling dunmer and Nord woman she had encountered in the hall, and an imperial woman with short braids and scaled armour, and another Nord man with blonde hair in a held back braid, a short beard and a sottish look, wearing leather armour. All four looked rather young, but older than Mimzi. They eagerly met their attention to Vilkas coming from the entrance. They swiftly reformed to confused glares as Mimzi followed quickly after. They ceased their chatter and watched diligently as the two progressed into the yard.

The imperial asked softly, "What is going on?"

The sottish man slurred, "Training? I think…"

"Ha! This is gonna be good. Vilkas got an easy one, hey?" The dunmer man chuckled.

The Nord woman snarled, "Little idiot looks like she can barely swing a blade… Vilkas is gonna sweep the yard with her pretty red locks," she scoffed then took a delighted swig from her mead.

Vilkas and Mimzi stood a few metres away in the yard. She parted her feet slightly and rested her hand to her hilt. Vilkas proclaimed loud enough she could hear him, "The old man said to have a look at you, so… let's do this. Don't expect me to take it easy on you. We require warriors here; not barmaids…" he growled with judgement written to his face.

Mimzi scowled as she tightened her grip over her hilt and replied, "Don't worry, I wasn't planning on taking it easy on you, either."

Vilkas drew his blade as Mimzi did the same. He held a shield in his left and a steel sword to his right, as did Mimzi but she firmly clasped Dragonbane.

He glowered, "Take a few hits at me if you can. I want to see your form before I decide anything."

"Hey Vilkas!" The sottish man bellowed from his seat, "Take it easy on her, she's a pretty little thing!"

The Nord woman chortled, "Did you lose your flower basket, little girl? Hahaha!"

Mimzi blotted out their mocking as she kept her steely gaze to Vilkas. She paced around him as he did the same to her, she silently studied his moves and the right time to strike. He wore heavy armour, and his shield was made of sheer steel. Vilkas was weighted down and compared to her own light tunic and fast feet, she could use her agility to outsmart his attacks.

"Let's go! Hit me!" Vilkas declared, then came charging with his sword overhead.

His charge was slow, giving her the chance to slyly swoop down her head and turn, dodging his attack with ease. She faced behind him. She kicked the back of his knee, causing him to kneel from the stumble. The onlookers' snide stares turned to wide gawking. He turned his scowl back to her and shot back up. Mimzi held her sword up to strike, where Vilkas went to block. Mimzi's feigned attack turned to an under strike, where Vilkas quickly blocked with his shield. He bashed her back, causing her to stagger. The metal hitting against her forearm ached like numbing ice. Without armour she was vulnerable to brunt force attacks, but she endured the pain. She kept her knees bent and planted her feet firmly. She lunged another attack at Vilkas and thrashed her sword against his blocks. The metal of her sword meeting his iron shield violently rang. She thrashed again and again, timing her attacks in unison to his blocks, trying to show him the power she can throw. She lunged forward nearer to him while she aggressively persisted at Vilkas— who kept his shield up to bear the strikes.

"Is that the best you can do?!" Vilkas snarled, beginning to sprout sweat to his brow. He swiftly melded his block with a swipe of his left leg in an attempt to trip Mimzi. She promptly jumped up from his foot— springing her knees up then replanted her stance. The faces to the bench couldn't help but surprise in delight to her speed. She threw a swipe overhead and he parried it back. He timed her strikes, then quickly lowered his shield to thrash his sword against hers. His sword crashed against Dragonbane with such brunt it nearly flew from her clasp. She kept her hilt firm. Mimzi thrashed another swipe against his flourishing blade, which staggered him against the impact of her strike. She then kicked him forward against his back thigh.

Vilkas stunned at the blow and tripped. He caught himself firmly, as he went to shoot himself back up, he felt a cold sheen against his cheek and went still. He stayed to the ground and placed his knee down, resting his body. He slowly looked back in a scowl to Mimzi overhead, with the tip of her sword drawn close to his neck. The onlookers gawked on; speechless, as Mimzi slowly sheathed her sword. Vilkas grunted upwards and held a pinched scowl at his own defeat but swallowed his anger.

Vilkas stayed aloof and grumbled, "Not bad. Next time won't be so easy…"

"I thought you said you weren't going to go easy on me?" She asked aloud.

Vilkas smirked and shook his head— briefly looking away as he bit his lip in anger and exhaled. He then returned a crass scowl, "Take my sword," he handed his steel blade to Mimzi by the hilt.

Mimzi studied the blade and shot a confused glare back to him, "Why do I want this?"

"Watch that tongue. You might just make it, but for now, you're still a whelp to us, new blood. So, you do what we tell you," he stated scornfully, and pointed lazily up to the slope above, where the Skyforge resided "Take my sword up to Eorland at the Skyforge to get it sharpened. And be careful, it's probably worth more than you are…" he scoffed and paced back into Jorrvaskr, brushing passed the onlookers and slamming the doors shut on his way in.

Mimzi glanced passed the baffled glares of the four at the tables. She smirked at their fumbled stares and continued up to the Skyforge. A landmark of Whiterun and a crowned jewel of Skyrim; the Skyforge was the oldest forge in all of Tamriel. It was said to smith the strongest, sharpest and most deadly steel, able to slice through metal and light as a needle. Eorland Gray-Mane, one of the hierarchs of the Gray-Mane clan in Whiterun; manned the forge, and specially made weapons for the Companions.

Mimzi ambled up the steps to the Skyforge. The sun began to set warmly just over the mountains, where the peak of Whiterun was lit in a rich orange hue. There were a giant reaching sculpture of a hawk arched over the vast molten lava of the forge. Just beckoning closer to the platform, Mimzi could feel a rush of heat. Eorland stayed to his forge, smothered in sweat and grime, as he crafted together a shield. He wore hide armour and had long white hair, and a greased beard. An older man yet large as a mountain, he brimmed in veining muscle and sinew.

He caught notice of Mimzi and barked aloud, "What brings you here?"

Mimzi approached the blacksmith with Vilkas's sword in hand, she handed it to him hastily, "Vilkas sent me with his sword…"

Eorland gingerly clasped it from Mimzi and raised a question whilst studying her, "I'm guessing you're the newcomer then?"

"Yup, that's me. Does Vilkas always send newcomers on errands? Not exactly what I had in mind when I joined up…" she glowered through an aloof tone.

"Ah, don't worry too much about it," Eorland assured as he rested the blade to the side of his anvil, "They were all whelps, once. They might just not like to talk about it. And don't always do what you're told, no one rules anyone in the Companions."

Mimzi raised, "Someone has to be in charge, though."

"Well, I don't know how they've managed it, but they have. No leader since Ysgramor," Eorland explained, "Kodlak, as you must know, is the Harbinger. He acts like sort of an 'advisor' for the whole group. But every man is his own, every woman her own."

Mimzi smiled and nodded, "Well, thanks for the chat. I'll tell him to stuff it next time, if that's what you want."

Eorland piped up as Mimzi turned to walk back to Jorrvaskr, "I have a favour to ask…"

Mimzi turned back and asked, "What is it?"

"I have a shield I need to bring for Aela…" Eorland's eyes turned somber, "My wife is in mourning, as we lost a child. I need to get back to her soon. I'd be much obliged if you could take this to Aela, for me."

"Of course," Mimzi nodded and asked, "Where is she?"

"Where all the Companions are, in Jorrvaskr. Try her quarters, downstairs. She's a bit intense, but a good woman, regardless. Thank you for helping an old blacksmith." Eorland praised and unequipped his smithing gloves while Mimzi ambled back down to the Jorrvaskr doors.

Inside, she was greeted by tender meat roasting on the spit, and polished plates being set by the elderly maid. She brimmed a soft smile as Mimzi walked inside and approached the downstairs living quarters. She made her way through the dome hallway and looked around for a room where Aela could reside. Mimzi could hear light chatter in the left adjoining hall rooms. She sauntered down, slowly.

A low, gritty male tone that sounded familiar spoke from within the room, "All these younglin's scampering around. That newcomer looks like she just grew out of her nappies…."

A bold female tone replied, "You scared one is going to take your place?"

The male voice grunted, "Scared one is going to get themselves killed…" as Mimzi approached the room she could see the man she had met in the hall when she first entered, with the woman still behind the door; shrouded from her view.

The woman perked up to him, "By you?"

The man huffed, "They should be so lucky."

He took startling notice to Mimzi and snarled, "You. What did you want?"

As she cleared the corner, she saw a tall, slender Nord woman, with shoulder length, straight, ginger hair. She had large freckles all over her shoulders and face, which was spread in dark green war paint like the thrash of an animal's claw. Her eyes were light green, almost luminescent. She wore ancient Nordic hides that hugged her figure with iron plates along the sides of her hips, and plates to her shoulders. Her gloves pine green and reached up passed her elbow, and beryl gems along her chest. She wore heavy hide boots that went up to her knees. She was young, but looked to be in her early thirties.

She perked her head at the sight of Mimzi carrying her shield and announced, "My shield! I've been waiting for this. Are you new?"

The man informed, "This is the whelp Vilkas blathered on about…"

"Ah yes…" Aela snickered, "I heard you gave him quite the thrashing."

The man alarmed, "Don't let Vilkas catch you saying that…"

Aela went stoic as she turned her body to Mimzi, her eyes widening, "Do you think you could handle Vilkas in a real fight?"

The man, and Aela stayed patiently awaiting Mimzi's answer. She stammered as she paced her nervous eyes back and forth from the stern warriors, "Uhh," she murmured, "For a second there, I almost thought it was a real fight. He's a bit of a blowhard…"

Aela began to chortle as the man rolled his eyes in response, "Ah. You and I will get along just fine. There's a mastery in speaking to Vilkas you'll come to grasp, soon. What's your name?"

"Mimzi, and I'm guessing you're Aela," queried Mimzi..

"You guessed correct," she stated, "This is Skjor, another hothead," she crassly referred to the man.

"That's rich coming from you…" Skjor glowered at Aela, crossing his arms.

Aela instructed, "Skjor, why don't you show the new blood where she'll be resting her head."

"Ha," Skjor cracked and replied boldly, "No way I'm doing that. Get Farkas, he's a lot more welcoming to the whelps than I am," Skjor scowled and then yelled out sharply into the hall, "Farkas!"

Footsteps came thudding down the hall and towards Aela's door. For a moment, he looked like Vilkas, but his form and features proved otherwise.

"Did you call me?" Farkas called to Skjor.

His hair was jet black, as well, and also attained darkly painted eyes. But his hair was shoulder length. He had piercing silver eyes, and more facial hair than Vilkas, but similar facial features. They almost had the same nose, lips and eyes. However, he was far bulkier and broader, wearing a different set of steel armour. There was an overall mannerism of the man that was approachable.

Aela blurted crassly, "Of course we did, ice-brain," she instructed to Farkas, "Show this new blood where she'll be sleeping."

Farkas lifted a friendly grin and beckoned Mimzi, "Oh, hi. Nice to meet you, I'm Farkas," his voice was deep and growly, but his tone still light-hearted and kind.

"Mimzi," she muttered, then followed the young man down a left turn through the hall. They sauntered down the hall together as they continued to make their acquaintance.

Farkas stated in a dim tone, "You're really tiny… and pretty. I wasn't expecting you to be pretty. In like an obvious way, I'm not being creepy. Just… now I understand why my brother was so mad. Not me, though. It's nice to have a new face around. Gets boring here sometimes."

She looked up, slightly uncomfortable, "Thanks, I guess. Your brother? You mean Vilkas?"

"Yeah," Farkas chuckled, "We're twins. Hard to tell, right? Haha!"

Mimzi giggled, "Sure, you two look alike, but you couldn't be any more different from what I'm hearing so far."

Farkas shrugged and explained, "Yeah, my brother can be a tough egg to crack but he's good people. So are Aela and Skjor, even if they tease me. They challenge us to be our best. I hope we keep you; this can be a rough life."

Mimzi replied stoically, "Nothing I ain't used to."

They made it to the end of the hall where sharp laughter and loud blathering filled the room they approached.

"So, when do I get a job?" She asked to Farkas who replied promptly.

"You'll have to ask one of us— I mean the Circle— for a mission. Vilkas and Skjor offer better paying jobs, but they are stingy to who they hand them out too. You'll have to prove yourself to them, first. For now, Aela and I can square you up with some decent jobs… they'll keep you busy, if nothing else," he stopped before the entrance of the room, where inside the familiar onlookers out in the yard jested and chatted amongst each other.

Farkas turned to Mimzi and gestured to the room, "Alright, well here you are. Looks like the others are eager to meet ya."

Mimzi winced at the thought of sharing sleeping quarters with those that had mocked her in the yard, and raised, "I sleep in here… with them?"

He informed, "All the whelps sleep in the barracks. Sorry, but they ain't so bad when you get used to them. You'll do just fine…" reassured Farkas as Mimzi pressed her way passed him and inside. Farkas quickly added, "By the way, if you're looking for something to do… I have a job I was supposed to get to today but… well, maybe you outta have it."

Mimzi beamed an excited grin, "Really? Of course! What is it?"

He explained, "We got a problem in Whiterun. This snobby redguard named Nazeem pissed someone off. We just need to scare him into paying his debt."

Mimzi accepted, "Sounds easy enough, what can you tell me about him? Should I be prepared for any trouble?"

"Oh, no. You don't need to worry," Farkas assured and advised, "I just know he's really annoying and spends most his days up in Dragonsreach, kissing the Jarl's boots. He could probably lose a fight to his housecoat," Farkas snickered, "I just need you to go out there and look tough. Scare this milk-drinker into submission. Just don't kill him."

"Kill him?!" Mimzi squawked, "Why would I kill him? Has that happened?"

Farkas thought for a tender moment and replied, "Uhh, yeah. A few times, actually."

Mimzi's eyes went stunned and lightly shook her head. Farkas shrugged, and added, "But you'll do fine. See you around, Mimzi."

"Bye," Mimzi smiled, relieved to finally meet a friendly face among the fiery warriors of the hall. She wandered into the barracks where the men and women bunking with her greeted her variously.

The Nord man who spectated in the yard— announced sottishly, "Ah, well look who it is. The wench that made Vilkas heel. Hahaha!" He addressed, "Torvar's the name," he gripped Mimzi's flaccid arm and shook vigorously, "Good show! The new recruit! Uhhh…"

She scowled and addressed herself, "Mimzi."

"Mimzi?" Torvar slurred with a disturbed expression, "What sorta name is that?"

The dark elf man spoke up, "It's a strain of anther flower in Morrowind, exclusive to the outskirts of Vvardenfell. I haven't heard of them in a long time. Odd name for a Nord…" He had dark, coppery hair held in a high pony tail, and shimmery, dark crimson eyes. He pondered to Mimzi, "Did you grow up in Morrowind by chance?"

"Uhh. No," replied Mimzi, "Dawnstar. I was named by a dark elf…"

The dunmer man marvelled, "You were raised by dark elves? What a pleasant surprise…"

She replied in a stern voice, "No. Named. I feel like I don't owe you an explanation right now…"

"Fair enough. I'm Athis, adept in swordsmanship. As are you, of course. Where did you learn how to fight at such a tender age?"

The Nord woman shot up from her bed and barraged, "Pfft. You call that fighting?" She had short, blonde hair, and war paint along her cheeks. Her eyes were small but a burning amber colour. She held a disgusted scowl to her dirt-ridden face, and neared inches from Mimzi, "Vilkas clearly was going easy on you. You've never truly seen him fight. He would have sliced through you like an axe over wood."

"That's Njada…" Torvar groaned, and then started to titter, "The Companions first ever Hagraven member."

Athis and Torvar began to cackle in unison, where Njada threw her head back at them and pushed through the two men before spitting scornfully at their feet.

Athis guffawed teasingly, "Jorrvaskr is inclusive to all races! Isn't that right, Torvar?"

Torvar joined in with a cackle, "Yup, even the unrelenting, sour hags from Oblivion…" Njada huffed and rolled her eyes in disdain.

"You three are proof they are letting any idiot off the street in these days," she leaned back onto the wall with her arms crossed.

The elderly lady came from behind them and in the doorway as she gently chimed out, "Dinner is ready! Roast venison and baked potatoes!"

Athis and Torvar cut their laughter short and jolted in excitement. Athis said back to the woman, "Thank you, dear Tilma! I'm starving…"

Torvar blurted, "You're starving? I'm starving! And need another drink… my buzz is waring…" Torvar followed Athis out the doors as they eagerly went back upstairs for fresh food, with Njada in pursuit, as well.

Mimzi was famished, but far too overwhelmed for another bombarding of mockery and needless questions. She sat on a far off cot to the wall. She exhaled out and began to set her things onto the bed. She sat up against the wall onto her cot and closed her eyes peacefully for a moment.

Suddenly a gentle coo came from the cot before her, "You alright?"

Mimzi opened her eyes to see the Imperial woman fussing with her boots and looking up at her, worrisome. She was young like her, looking like she was in her mid twenties, and had warm skin like desert sands, and short, black hair rowed in braids.

"I'm fine," aloofly replied Mimzi.

"Ria," the woman introduced, "I'm new, too. Just joined up last month. The teasing and belittling from the others will eventually patter away," Ria smiled, "I for one, think you were amazing out there today. You blew our hair back. The others won't admit it, but I will. I'm eager to fight alongside you."

Mimzi perked a small smirk, "Thanks."

"I have to ask…" Ria rested her elbows to her thighs and hunched over as she sat on the edge of her cot before wondering, "Where did you learn how to fight like that?"

Mimzi crossed her legs and sat straight before stating, "A Blade."

Ria asked, "A Blade? Like those who protected the emperor years ago?"

"Her name was Delphine…" Mimzi explained, "Taught me everything I know about melee combat. Being a swordsman means you have to be deceitful, quick, and able to tell your opponent's next move before they do it. It's all about playing dirty…"

Ria grinned and nodded, "Wow, and that's what you did! Vilkas had that look on his face, confused and furious! Haha! He's my trainer, I like longer blades and he's a master with them, but he can be a real pain some days. Like getting on me about things that don't even matter… it was kind of nice to see him brought down a peg or two. So, thank you."

"You're welcome," rejoined Mimzi softly and chuckled, "If he was my trainer, I would have slocked him by now, haha."

Ria joined in a feverish giggle. Their giggles ceased as Mimzi noticed the members of the Circle walking through the hall and upstairs for food. Aela, Skjor, Vilkas and Farkas, and even Kodlak passed the door frame, silent and stern. As they left behind the door, Mimzi looked back at Ria where the two girls sputtered in giggles, once more.

Ria and Mimzi went upstairs for food after the bodies of their other shield siblings dwindled to other parts of the hall. Mimzi had almost forgotten the kindred joy of sharing company with someone her age and maturity. They shared laughs and chatter for hours as they enjoyed the succulent meats, and beautifully roasted garden vegetables. Talking and jesting before the early hours of morning crept up. The two retreated to the barracks for a night of rest. Ria and Mimzi said their goodnight, and Ria turned over and went to sleep.

Mimzi turned to her back and looked up at the ceiling of the barracks. She placed her hands on her stomach and closed her eyes. Despite the new surroundings she lived in, and the people who doubted her; Mimzi felt with a certainty she was where she belonged. Ria's company was rejuvenating, and knowing she had someone else to share her struggles with helped her overcome any anxiety. Her tomorrow was her chance to prove herself to the haughty Companions. Her eyelids grew heavy, and a blissful sleepiness overcame her. She drifted further into sleep. As her consciousness began to fade into her dreams; Mimzi could hear a distant, ominous echo of the howl of a wolf through Jorrvaskr's walls.