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 was a sweetly boon upon the inhabitants of Whiterun. The winds blew chillingly still amongst the bright, fruitful streets. The people bustled down the cobblestone pathways; carrying on with their mundane 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.

She held an uptight scowl, "She's still out there. Did you even speak to her?"

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

Adrianne slighted, "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!"

"Alright, alright! I'll go talk to her... again."

The guard treaded down the Plains District and took a left 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 impatiently called, "Mimzi! Up and at em'. Let's go."

Mimzi laid face down into her bedroll from within the tent with a light snore.

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

She jolted then, "You what? I'm up!"

She scrambled out of her bedroll. She had fluffy unkempt, auburn hair riddled in curls that reached below her jawline. Her freckled cheeks were blushed from sleep. She wore a blue tunic with a girdle, travelling pants and fur boots. She crawled from the entrance and tried to charm, "Oh, hi. Did I violate the law again?"

"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."

"What?!" She scrambled out of her tent, stumbling over loose pots and fumbling firewood. "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. Adrianne came and found me."

"Oh for the love of…" Mimzi hissed under her breath, "… That woman is going to kill me. Look, she's ragin' 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!"

"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…"

"Wait! 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 darted inside her tent to retrieve her knapsack.

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

"What's that?" She called back as if she didn't hear him.

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, "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 lad, you know that? Talos guide you!" She started to run past the 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!"

"Be back in a pinch!"

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.

"Ahh! Watch it, Mimzi!"

Mimzi called back, "Sorry!"

She passed the Temple of Kynerath and Jorrvaskr, the Hall of the Companions. The cold winds blew a greet of winter 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 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."

"Mimzi…"

"Please? This city, after everything I've done for its people; I deserve this. It's a small ask— small."

"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."

She let out a frustrated groan. "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."

"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. Have you thought of paying a visit to the Companions?"

"Why would I do that?"

"Well. 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."

"That's a hall of heroes. Famous heroes. They wouldn't accept me."

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

"I'd be the freak of the litter, no doubt. A Shout is magic. According to storybooks, the Companions aren't fans of the latter."

Jarl Balgruuf raised a brow, "It's a waste if you don't at least use it to advance to power. That's the very nature of a Dragonborn. Keep your secrets as you wish, but you're just the kind the Companions represent. 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. You'll flourish there, Mimzi. I know it."

Mimzi thought about it only a moment. It was the same discomfort as stepping naked into a freezing pond. "Nah. I work better alone."

"Then 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. Proventus handed her a purse of coin.

"Here you are, try not to spend it all in one place... again."

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. Her stomach ached and mouth left parched. Mimzi quickly paced back to her camp. As she arrived, the camp site was gone, including her belongings.

Mimzi's heart thrashed in anger 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.

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

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

"Where are they?!?"

The guard 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?"

"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 entrance.

Inside the dungeon, light was only provided by candles and torches. It smelt of old hay and dried blood. 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, "I didn't think you were serious, Gorm. All my life was in that tent!"

"I've been serious for weeks. Today let's just say I finally had it. It's fifty gold, and that's generous."

"Fifty gold for camping by Warmaiden's? You're taking the piss."

"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.

Mimzi counted aloud, "There, should be fifty septims."

"Paying your dues, keeping your tents in the plains, all good ideas to avoid this from happening again, Mimzi."

"If I wanted your advice, I'd ask for it."

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."

"You can take your pity and shove it tenderly up your arse, ya gobshite. 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 belongings. She curled a scowl in annoyance as she noticed things missing.

"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!"

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 as she marched out the front doors of the dungeons.

Mimzi eagerly strode back to 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, "Seventy?! You clacking mad? 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."

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 bloody starvin!"

"Enough, I've heard it over and over. 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.

Hulda raised her voice. "Now!"

"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!"

Hulda huffed at the sight of her, battling her own moral objections. She 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.

Hulda perked up and spoke to Mimzi. "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."

"I was never one for honest work, no offence."

"Maybe that's your first problem. Whiterun, it's an excellent place to live; if you are willing to work hard."

"Of course I am. I know how to fight 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, I'm forgotten like a fair face at a tavern."

Hulda cracked a laugh, "Oh, listen to you! You're not careful I'll start tearing up! 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."

"Aye, that's your successful business owner advice?"

"It is! 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."

"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." She could already hear Delphine's voice in her head.

"That's not the Companions." Hulda continued, "There are no leaders in Jorrvaskr. Kodlak Whitemane gives counsel, but he's not their leader. 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."

"… And what if they don't take me?"

"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. "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 a blessing. She chugged the water from the flask and sighed, "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 her stomach would twist. She was still scorned by Delphine. Working alone seemed to work for her in protecting herself. 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. 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.

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

"Good luck, Mimzi."

She made a determined slog to the Wind District. 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. With her armour clutched in her arm, she walked into a crowd and a booming brawl to the other side of the feasting hall. Inside was a wide dining table that was built along a giant, roasting ground fire. It kept 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. A feeble, older woman gathered the cutlery and dishes as the clashing brawl took place, with crowds of armoured warriors chanting and egging the fight.

It was between a Dunmer man 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.

The Nord woman punched the Dark Elf into a neighbouring chair— concaving it upon impact. The revellers erupted into laughter. The Dark Elf then kicked hard in the groin, where she yelped and flopped to her side in pain.

The Dark Elf sneered, "Ha! Works on women, too!"

"I'll send you back to Vvardenfell, knife-ears!" Nord woman snapped.

There was a man in dark steel armour with black fur from the cuffs of his shoulders and waist, carved in Nordic art— 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, an almost noxious scent like the stench of a wild animal. He grinned with his thin lips.

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

Mimzi peeped to the man 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?"

He returned his scowl, "… 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. "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. Whatever nerves wrangling her back were shadowed by anger. Mimzi growled, "You wanna bet?"

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

The man nodded and stretched his lips. "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 asked 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. "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.

The living quarters had a wide and domed stone-bricked hallway adorned in tables of fresh food, tapestries and tasteful carpeting. Banners of red in a large axe adorned the hall. The room adjacent to the entrance were filled in cots, chests, and decorated lazily with hanging swords, shields and used armour.

Further down the hall two hallways followed down each side of the domed hall. Each 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 said in a strong, wise tone, "But we can overcome…"

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

To the far end of the room were two Nord men sat at a table holding counsel. One man wore the same steel armour as the one she had encountered in the main hall: with 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. Around his eyes were painted in dark ink. He had faded facial stubble. He had piercing silver eyes, and a sour, troubled scowl. 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, as if it was the metal of elite members.

"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. The younger was almost affronted. Growing a scowl with every step she took into the room.

"A stranger comes to our hall." The older man declared.

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."

As she did so an overwhelming smell of musk wafted up. She ignored the stench and stood straight.

"Hmm…" He hummed, "Perhaps. A certain strength of spirit."

The other man grunted, "Master… you're not seriously considering accepting her."

"I am nobody's master, Vilkas. And last I checked, we had open beds for those with a fire in their hearts."

"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 didn't dare say it, but she was heatedly thinking it. Another sprag who thinks he's the God's gift.

"Sometimes the famous come to us. Sometimes those come to seek their fame. It makes no difference; what matters is their heart." Kodlak esteemed.

"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 will test your arm."

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

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

She flinched and rested her armour down to the end tables outside. 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 and another Nord man. All four looked rather young, but older than Mimzi. They eagerly met their attention to Vilkas coming from the entrance. They swiftly reformed to confusion.

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

"Training? I think." The Nord man slurred.

"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."

Vilkas and Mimzi stood a few metres away in the yard and he announced, "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."

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

Vilkas drew his blade as Mimzi did the same. "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, no time to sully with her opponent in sights. She silently studied his moves and the right time to strike. He wore heavy armour, and his shield was made of steel. Vilkas was weighted down and compared to her own fast feet, she could use it to outsmart his attacks. Delphine's lessons clapped in her ear again.

Swordsmanship is all about playing dirty.

His charge was slow, giving her the chance to slyly swoop down her head and turn, dodging his attack like a downwind bird. She kicked the back of his knee and he stumbled. The onlookers' snide stares turned to wide gawking. He turned back to her with a surprising bout of speed. Mimzi held her sword up to strike, where Vilkas turned to block. Mimzi's feigned attack turned to an under strike, but Vilkas quickly blocked with his shield. He bashed her back, causing her to stagger. The metal hitting against her forearm ached like numbing ice. No moment to writhe, she needed to grit through it. She lunged another attack at Vilkas and thrashed her sword against his blocks. The metal of her sword meeting his iron shield rang. She thrashed again and again, timing her attacks in unison to his blocks, trying to show him the power she can throw.

"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. Mimzi thrashed another swipe against his flourishing blade, which staggered him just for a moment. She seized her chance to kick him forward in the back thigh.

Vilkas stunned at the blow and tripped. He caught himself firmly. Before he could shoot back up, he felt a cold sheen against his cheek and went still. He rested to his knee and slowly looked back in a scowl. Mimzi had 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 whatever words were truly behind his teeth.

Vilkas stayed aloof. "Not bad. Next time won't be so easy."

"I thought you said you weren't going to go easy on me?"

Vilkas smirked and shook his head— briefly looking away to bite his lip. He returned a crass scowl. "Take my sword." He handed his steel blade to Mimzi by the hilt.

Mimzi studied the blade and puzzled, "Why 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. 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 paced back into Jorrvaskr, brushing passed the onlookers and slamming the doors shut on his way in.

Mimzi followed him on his exit, quietly muttering to herself, "Prick."

The Skyforge was a landmark of Whiterun. 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.

The sun began to set warmly over the mountains, where the peak of Whiterun was glossed in gold. There was a giant sculpture of a hawk arched over the 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.

He caught notice of Mimzi. "What brings you here?"

Mimzi approached the blacksmith with Vilkas's sword in hand. "Vilkas sent me with his sword…"

Eorland took it with a question. "I'm guessing you're the newcomer then?"

"Yup, that's I. Does Vilkas always send newcomers on errands? Not exactly what I had in mind when I joined up."

"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."

"Someone has to be in charge, though."

"Well, I don't know how they've managed it, but they have. No leader since Ysgramor. 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."

"Aye, ta. I'll tell him to stuff it next time, if that's what you want."

"I have a favour to ask…"

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

"I have a shield I need to bring for Aela. 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. 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."

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 domed hallway and looked around for a room where Aela could reside. Mimzi could hear light chatter in the left adjoining hall rooms.

A low gritty male 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 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 asked, "By you?"

"They should be so lucky."

He took startling notice to Mimzi. "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 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. Her gloves pine green reaching 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. "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."

"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, "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."

"You guessed correct. This is Skjor, another hothead."

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

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

"Ha," Skjor cracked, "No way I'm doing that. Get Farkas, he's a lot more welcoming to the whelps than I am. 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 asked.

His hair was jet black, as well. Sharing the same darkly painted eyes. But his hair was shoulder length. He had piercing silver eyes, and more facial hair than Vilkas, but similar 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 approach of the man that was welcoming.

"Of course we did, Ice-Brain," dryly said Aela. "Show this new blood where she'll be sleeping."

Farkas lifted a friendly grin. "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 followed the young man. They sauntered down the hall together as they continued to make their acquaintance.

Farkas stated, "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. "Ta. Your brother? You mean Vilkas?"

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

Mimzi giggled, "Sure, you're mirrors to the other, but you couldn't be any more different from what I'm hearing so far."

Farkas 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."

"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.

"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."

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

"I sleep in here… with them?"

"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. 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."

"Really? Of course! What is it?"

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

"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. 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?! 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, "But you'll do fine. See you around, Mimzi."

"Cheers." 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 didn't hesitate in greeting.

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. "Good show! The new recruit! Uhhh…"

"Mimzi."

"Mimzi?" Torvar slurred, "What sorta name is that?"

The Dark Elf 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 with shimmery, dark crimson eyes. "Did you grow up in Morrowind by chance?"

"Uhh. No. Dawnstar. I was named by a Dark Elf…"

"You were raised by Dark Elves? What a pleasant surprise…"

"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. "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. "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 and pushed through them, spitting scornfully at their feet.

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

"Yup, even the unrelenting, sour hags from Oblivion."

"You three are proof they are letting any idiot in off the street these days."

The elderly lady came from behind them and in the doorway and called for dinner. The whelps excitedly scrambled out the room. Eager to sate their hunger after a day of training.

Mimzi was famished, but already had a lot to digest in her own thoughts. She sat on a far off cot to the wall. She sat up against the wall onto her cot and closed her eyes peacefully for a moment. A new chapter. Can you close the last? Are you kind enough to do that for yourself?

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. She was young like her, looking like she was in her mid twenties. She 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. 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. "Aye, as I you."

"I have to ask. Where did you learn how to fight like that?"

Mimzi said, "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 know your own. It's all about playing dirty."

Ria smiled, "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." Mimzi chuckled, "If he was my trainer, I would have slocked him by now."

The night ended silently after dinner. Even Mimzi was driven to her bed in fatigue. She was glad to have made a rapport with Ria and Farkas. The others were not so welcoming. She turned to her back and looked up at the ceiling of the barracks. She placed her hands on her stomach and closed her eyes. Her tomorrow was her chance to prove herself to the steely Companions. Her eyelids grew heavy, and a blissful sleepiness came. She drifted further into sleep. As her consciousness began to fade into her dreams, Mimzi could hear a distant echo of a wolf's howl through Jorrvaskr's walls.