Notes

I looked up as Ria threw open the doors to the main hall of Jorrvaskr, a broad grin upon the nord’s face

“Vilkas is testing a new member! They’re just about to start!” She called gleefully, causing exited chatter to arise from the people in the hall. It wasn’t every day we had new recruits, and seeing how they faired in combat was always a good way to test if they were worthy.

“C’mon, it’s been months since we had a new-blood” Farkas grunted as he stood, putting his tankard down after taking another swig. I did the same, but without standing.
“You’ve been in a sour mood for week Ell” the man beside me snorted, the bemused huff caused me to glower at him, his dark eyes meeting mine.
“Fresh air ’ll do you good”

“If their mettle is good enough to join, I’ll see them around anyhow” I snarled, hearing others walk past and out to the training grounds. Farkas crosses his arms over his steel armoured chest, his bulky arms showing. He was a decent looking man, if you’re into the sort, he had long dark hair that he let hang loose around his shoulders, his eyes shadowed by dark war paint his brown irises shimmering from within his dark eyes.

“A fight will cheer you up! You’ll get to see the new-blood on the floor I bet!”
I relented, getting to my feet begrudgingly.

“You better shut your yap or you’ll be the one on the floor” I growled, taking my tankard with me I allowed Farkas to lead me outside, smirking as he shuddered.

-

Vilkas staggered back as the new-blood brought their sword down on his blade, breaking past his block. Vilkas was almost identical to Farkas, who stood at my side, but his hair was shorter, and had slipped lose of its restraints, swinging wildly around his face as he parried the blows he new-blood gave.
I turned my gaze to the new-blood, they moved quickly with the expertise of a skilled warrior, and the swiftness of a rogue. Their armour was old and tight, the armour a scavenger would find, but this was a better quality than most, probably taken from a bandit. They wielded the training great sword, just as Vilkas did, their blows quick and precise as a rogue, but with power and strength of a warrior.

“Looks like he’s getting his arse whooped” Farkas laughed, nudging my arm with his elbow, I smiled, watching that smart-ass being put in his place was quite satisfying.

“Indeed, this whelp might just make it” I mused, taking a long sip from the mug I was finishing. Vilkas dodged, the manoeuvre causing the training blade to glance down, hitting his shoulder hard. I knew what Vilkas was doing, the attack was flawed but often one the battle in the end, as expected, he swept the legs out from beneath the new-blood, causing them to fall backwards.
They threw their weapon as they fell, Vilkas knocked the blade away before it could strike him, giving the new-blood a moment to act. Vilkas arched his blade down as the new-blood moved, pushing with their arms and legs to spring up, their boot colliding with Vilkas’s chin. A crunch sounded and Vilkas staggered back dropping his weapon and clutching his chin. A chorus of mumbled sympathies circulated around the gathered bystanders, myself included.

The new-blood, now on their feet kicked up the blade Vilkas had dropped, and she swung it, stopping inches away from his neck.

“Dead” they announce proudly, a prominently feminine voice coming from the warrior. Clapping erupted from the onlookers, and I saw Farkas rush to his twins aid. I could already smell the blood that dripped from Vilkas’s cupped hands.

“Bloody Nine!” Vilkas spat, a mouthful of blood splashing onto the cobblestones. I endeavoured to join them, thrusting my tankard into the hands of another Companion as I passed.
“You’re more talented then you look lass, better than I expected” he continued, pushing Farkas away as he tried to help his brother.
“Go up to Eorlund and get some proper armour, by then we’ll be ready with a decision.” He commanded, the new-blood nodded and started up towards the skyforge.
I watched as they left, something was different about this new recruit, something I couldn’t place.

“Aela!” Vilkas’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts, I looked back to him turning my nose up at the blood that caked his chin, the pungent sent stronger now that his hands had moved.
“Get your head out of the clouds for bloody sake”

“Just because you got your arse handed to you doesn’t mean you can snap at me” I growled, Vilkas looked away momentarily, before looking back and continuing in a calmer tone.

“Can you go tell Skjor and Kodlak that the lass as potential?” He asked. I agreed, patting him on the back as he walked around the main hall, probably heading to the temple to get healed, Farkas trailing behind as always. And I went inside, to report the tests results to Kodlak.

—

As the months past, the new-blood joined the Companions, and showed promise, she was ever eager, and would take any job thrown her way, from killing beasts and being hired muscles to finding lost heirlooms and escaped criminals.
I learnt her name over dinner once, ‘Syllvia’ it fitted her. Syllvia was a thin but muscled, she had long black hair that was tied up, braided in new ways every day. Her skin was pale and fair compared to the suntanned Nords of Skyrim. And if not for the scars and war paint that decorated her face, I would have though her some doll-faces noble.

I was watching as Sylvia laughed with Ria, Athis, and Torvar, the other whelps, over the table as the Companions feasted. The rewards of the months hardship and battles forgotten for this meal, a monthly celebration, to renew ourselves.

“You’re staring again” Skjor’s voice pulled me from my contemplations, I looked over at him, the bald headed man looked at me with a kind gaze.

“I was not” I defended, my voice remained soft and calm as I took another bite of my roast.

“I may be mostly blind, but I can still see” he chuckled, closing his blind eye in a wink. I scoffed, causing him to laugh
“Aela, your stubbornness is truly your best quality!” I shoved him playfully, causing him to scramble, trying to remain in his seat, causing several others to chuckle.

“She intrigues me alright?” I responded, Skjor accepted this response and pondered for a time.

“I understand, there is something different about this one.” Skjor lowered his voice, resting his elbows on the table as he stared at the lower ranks at the other end of the long table.
“She knows about our gift and yet does not run.”

“She knows? Since when?” I exclaimed in a whisper.

“Since Farkas took her to Dustman’s Carin” Skjor explained, turning to look at me once again
“Farkas said Silver hand surrounded him after Sylvia set off a trap, causing herself to be caged”

“Aimed for one of us I presume” I concluded, grabbing my cup and taking a long drink of the mead inside.

“Indeed, there was no other choice”

“Careless pup that he is” I snorted, causing Skjor to roll his eyes.

“You are to brash, numbers can overwhelm” he reasoned, I placed my mug down and returned to my meal silently.
“And the Silver hand has weapons to use against us, and the smarts to do so”

“But they’ll never take us down! They cannot dream of the power we have!” I exclaimed, slamming my fists onto the table. The chatter that filled Jorrvaskr silenced, ten pairs of eyes turning to me at the outburst.

“Aela, calm yourself” Skjor whispered, but my ears rang with the many heartbeats that filled the room, my breathing quickened and I stood, the chair chattering onto the floor behind me.
“Aela!” I heard Skjor call for me again as I left the meadhall, storming out of the building.

-

Leaving Jorrvaskr, I focused on the smells and sounds of Whiterun, and the cold chill that hing in the late night air.