Honningbrew Meadery was not the place that John thought he'd be spending any time in. In fact, when they had first seen it, it hadn't even crossed his mind to try and ask for a place to stay. It was only through sheer luck that a guard standing outside the meadery spotted them and waved them over.
The guard had taken one look at the shreds that John's clothes were in and was clearly taken aback. When they had explained that they had been attacked by a bear, and that John had been the one to kill it, the guard had called to someone from inside.
Soon enough, they were escorted right into the meadery and given a bottle of mead, and some replacement clothes for John. The mead was good, all things considered, but John refused to drink more than needed.
With how his luck was, it was possible that he was going to need to be sober.
Lo and behold, he was right.
From the back room came out a balding Nord wearing a guard uniform, minus the helmet, talking to who could only be the owner of the meadery. From the bits and pieces that John picked up, this was a routine inspection for the meadery itself and nothing more.
When the guard turned his head to look at them, his face turned grim.
"Heard from my men that you lot got attacked by a bear?"
"Aye sir." Faldrin spoke for them all, "Just up the river, near the bend."
The guard clicked his tongue, "Damnation. Any more than one, you suppose?"
"Torsten?"
"Might be. Looked like a mothering bear with how big it was. Couldn't say for sure though, was too focused on running." Torsten grunted as he took a swig of the mead, sighing as he did so.
"Can't spare guards right now. We'll have to ask the Companions for help with this one." The balding man grumbled, "You there, you were the one that killed it?" The question was directed to John this time around.
"Yes sir." The man was clearly of some authority, given how he referred to the guards as 'his men'.
"Then you better come with us, the Companions will want to hear it first hand." He turned to the owner of the meadery, an older man that was gawking at the four of them, "Sabjorn, I expect that when I come back, your little pest problem will be taken care of."
"Of course, sir. I'll get right on it."
"Right." There was a note of amusement there that implied he didn't believe that it would happen, "As for you, I suppose introductions are in order. Name's Caius, I'm the commander of the Whiterun guard."
"John." The dark-haired man accepted the offered handshake.
"John…I've heard that name before." The commander was frowning in concentration.
"I received a summons from Jarl Balgruuf." John spoke as he grimaced. The health potion had patched him up, but it hadn't done anything for the pain. His back would be hurting for a while longer, "I'm supposed to meet him as soon as possible."
"That's right! Now I remember!" Caius snapped his fingers, even as the rest of the occupants of the room stared at John in disbelief, "You were the one that dealt with the kidnapping in Riverwood."
"Yes sir."
"Well, I suppose it was lucky we met you here. Come then, you can join us in Whiterun proper, and tomorrow, you can meet the Jarl."
"And them?" John gestured to the three others with him. Caius waved him off.
"Guardsmen, you can take them to the Bannered Mare, tell Hulda to give them a room or two for me." Relief was palpable on the three's shoulders.
Caius led the way out of the Honningbrew Meadery, his stride confident and purposeful. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the landscape, painting the meadery and its surroundings in hues of gold and amber. John, still feeling the dull ache in his back, followed closely, his thoughts a whirlwind of anticipation and apprehension.
The idea of meeting with the Jarl and the Companions was daunting. Even though he didn't know of the Companions, that the commander of the Whiterun guard was willing to employ them was telling enough.
The journey to Whiterun was short, the city's imposing walls and the towering silhouette of Dragonsreach becoming more prominent with each step they took. The road was busy with travelers and merchants, all making their way to or from the city, their voices blending into a lively cacophony that filled the air.
Even as the night had turned dark, the people of Whiterun seemed to still be out and about, with no signs of stopping.
Soon enough, they entered through the city gates, and the intensity of the noise only heightened. Just from the hammering of the blacksmith on the side of the main road, to the rather loud shouts of the children playing.
Particularly loud was the small market square near the turn of the main road. Stalls filled with produce, and merchants hollering to whoever passed by, trying to sell their goods by day's end still. They paled in comparison to the shouts of merriment that he could hear through the building near the center of it all.
The sign said 'The Bannered Mare', and was clearly an inn. A popular one considering the amount of people coming in and out.
"I suppose this is where we part, John." Faldrin nodded to him, carrying his long-asleep son on his shoulder, "Once you get that business of yours sorted out, I'll buy you a drink, aye?"
With a snort and a small smile, John nodded, "I'll hold you onto that." The trio headed into the inn, led by a guard. They disappeared into the cacophony of noise soon after. It was just a miracle Jorid managed to sleep through all that.
"Have to say, you did good there." Caius made some small talk as he continued to lead them somewhere else, "Not many would fist fight a bear to save some folks he didn't know."
"I did what I had to." John shrugged. It wasn't like he could've - or would've - done anything differently. HE certainly wasn't going to let a bear maul innocents like that.
"Ha! Humble too." They stopped at an odd looking building. In fact, John wasn't sure it could be considered a building at all. It was an overturned longship, complete with oars.
"The Companions'll love you for it. Welcome to Jorrvaskr!"
If he thought that the market square and the Bannered Mare was loud, it had nothing on this. Loud shouting, some shouts of frustration and glee. A crack that was most definitely a table or chair breaking into pieces, coupled by cheers and boos alike.
Caius scanned the room, looking for someone. John was a bit too preoccupied with watching two drunks getting into a fistfight, with one of them doing a textbook suplex on their opponent.
"Ah, there he is. Come now, John, I'll introduce you."
"Commander Caius, a pleasure seeing you." An old, white haired man greeted them with a smile, seemingly unbothered by the violence erupting around them.
Now that he looked at it, no one else was bothered by the impromptu wrestling match, so maybe he was the odd one out.
"Kodlak Whitemane." The name was a bit on the nose for John's taste, "Brought this one over to you, has quite the tale to tell. That, and I was wondering if he could stay here for a while."
The old man, Kodlak, raised an eyebrow, "Commander, you know that this is the Companions' mead hall, yes?"
Caius chuckled, "Oh trust me, you'll be wanting John here to join once you hear his story. Go on, tell him."
John obliged, not thinking much of it.
"...after that, we left the wolf and bumped into the commander here."
He had told the story as he saw it. Everything, up until he killed the bear. He had noticed that, as he continued, the quieter the room had gotten. That more and more people were listening to his little tale. One that was made all the more believable by the remains of the clothes he had with him.
After he finished, there was a sudden round of hollers from the spectators. Cheers and calls for rounds of drinks came from all around.
Kodlak stroked his white beard thoughtfully, his eyes gleaming with a mix of intrigue and respect as he listened to John's recount of the bear encounter. The din of the mead hall had dimmed into an anticipatory silence, the Companions hanging on every word, their usual raucousness replaced by a focused attention. When John concluded, the silence broke like a dam under the pressure of their cheers and applause, admiration evident in their eyes.
"Well, I'll be," Kodlak finally spoke, his voice carrying a weight that immediately commanded the room's attention, even over the lingering echoes of excitement.
Caius nodded, looking pleased with himself, as if he had known the reaction John's story would elicit all along. "Told you they'd like you." he said, a smug smile playing on his lips.
"That being said," Kodlak interrupted, "As much as I, and many of my friends here, enjoyed your tale, you're not here to join, are you, John?"
"I'm sorry, but no."
John's response seemed to hang in the air, a momentary pause in the lively atmosphere of Jorrvaskr. The Companions, a group known for their valor and camaraderie, watched him with a mix of disappointment and respect. Kodlak's gaze, however, remained understanding, a nod to the complexities of fate and choice that brought individuals to their doorstep.
"Understandable," Kodlak replied, his voice reflecting a wisdom born of many years leading warriors. "Not all who come to Jorrvaskr seek to join our ranks. Some paths cross ours for reasons beyond the call to arms."
Caius, still standing beside John, clapped him on the shoulder, a gesture of solidarity. "The Jarl's summons is not something to be taken lightly," he remarked, acknowledging the gravity of John's situation. "But know this, John, you've earned the respect of the Companions this day. Should your path ever lead you back here, you'll be welcomed."
The atmosphere in Jorrvaskr shifted then, from one of high anticipation to mutual respect and understanding. Conversations resumed, the previous fervor now replaced with a more thoughtful energy. Members of the Companions approached John, offering words of encouragement, shared tales of their own, or simply clapped him on the back in silent camaraderie.
As the evening wore on, Kodlak beckoned John and Caius to a quieter corner of the mead hall. "While you may not seek to join us, John, you've shown courage and strength worthy of a Companion. For tonight, at least, you'll have shelter among friends. Tomorrow's journey to meet Jarl Balgruuf is an important one, and you'll need your rest."
Caius agreed, "Aye, and in the morning, I'll escort you to Dragonsreach myself. For now, you better get some rest, Bearslayer."
With a nod of appreciation, John prepared himself for the night ahead. The warmth of the mead hall, the camaraderie of the Companions, and the promise of a safe place to rest eased the weight off his shoulders, if only for a moment.
He was led underneath the mead hall, marked by more than a few toasts to his name. That…felt weird, to say the least.
He was more used to his name being scorned and feared. This was one of the very few times that his name was a cause for celebration, John thought. As he was shown a small, personal guest room with a warm bed, he couldn't help but think as he felt sleep take him.
It felt…nice.
Commissioned by: brutalcrab
A/N: If you like what I do and want to support me, check out my P-atreon at P-atreon•com(slash)Almistyor.
And a special thanks to: FireRogueWolf25, brutalcrab and Tassimo.
