Feral Shield-Brother (caution - spoilers inside!)

• Posted by Dreema December 12, 2011 - 1,029 views

  Farkas…loyal, big-hearted Farkas and one of the most dangerous and brave men I’ve ever known.  He isn’t very swift of brain but he could swing his sword hard enough shear an opponent in two, and he’d do it for you if he chose you as friend and sister.   He’s much older now – aren’t we all? – and though he may have trouble lifting his blade now I am under no illusions he could swipe someone’s head clean off if he got angry enough.  A good friend, even though at the time it did not endear him to his blood-brother.  If things had gone just a little differently, I would have wed the man, but I was still dancing the tangled threads at the time, and I can’t dance half a measure when I want to.

  In any event, I strode up to the Skyforge with Vilkas’s sword, not at all fussed about the menial task – I’d done what I had to do, and while he’d be out for me for now on, it served the purpose.  I had an in with Whiterun, and maybe even some good pay.  Honour was not exactly on my mind at that point, but that was true of many of the “new guard” of the Companions at the time.  Eorlund, the smith of the Skyforge,  gave me a sword of my own, the likes of which I have never had before or since; he was blessed at the forge.  He also admonished me not to take things to heart too much.  ”They tend to push the new ones around a lot – don’t let them.  Give as much as you get, if not more, and you’ll be fine.”  He had a fair wisdom, that man.

  He polished and sharpened Vilkas’s weapon, then gave me a shield to give to Aela as well.  Since he’d just given me a sword without me having to pay much I wasn’t about to complain about it.  Off I trotted, returning the two-handed monstrosity to Vilkas who didn’t even look at me when I did so, and then going down to find Aela, who was speaking to Sjkor in the living quarters.

  “Ah, there she is,” Aela said with a grin, as she took back her blade and then her repaired shield, gesturing to me with one hand.  ”She’s in – and she gave Vilkas quite the thrashing.”

  “Don’t let Vilkas hear you say that,” Skjor replied, but he gave me a searching look with his one good eye.  ”Seems hard to believe, but if Aela says you gave Vilkas a going over, I believe her.  What’s your name, Bosmer?”

  “Dreema,” I responded, adjusting the swordbelt round my waist.  I was a bit reluctant to use the name considering the rumours round Whiterun were spreading, but there was no recognition in either of their faces.

  “Right, Dreema, I want you to follow Farkas there, he’ll show you around, and then I’ve got a job for you both.”

  Farkas had hove into view behind me – I almost didn’t hear him until the last minute.  How did they do that?   Still, for all his similarity to his more surly brother, Farkas didn’t have the same animosity.  He merely shrugged his shoulders and then gestured to me with a small smile.  ”Come on, I’ll show you to your quarters.”

  We tramped through Jorrvaskr, and I was shown the bed I could use – youngbloods bunked down in the same room, while the old guard had their own it seemed.  I was introduced to a few of the other people in Jorrvaskr – Njada, Vagnir, Ria, Athis.  Farkas spoke in a cordial, simple way, but I had heard him speaking to Ahtis about the merits of one-handed to two-handed fighting, and Farkas’s flat intonation that he could cut someone in half long before they got close enough to do damage ended the conversation.  He was a dangerous man, and I was glad he didn’t have the same animosity toward me that his brother did.

  “Vilkas is just like that,” Farkas told me as he shrugged his muscled shoulders.  ”But he doesn’t get angry without a very good reason.  Me, well…I don’t tend to think about it till afterwards, and then have to clean up the mess.  Just don’t get on my bad side and there’s no trouble.”

  “Well if I knew why I was even on your brother’s bad side, I’d fix it,” I replied quite honestly.  ”But I don’t.”

  “Yeah…we’re all under a bit of pressure here,” Farkas said.  ”Outsiders coming in doesn’t help much unless they’re serious about helping out.”  He didn’t look me in the eye when he said that, and he didn’t say anything further.  Pressing him wasn’t a good idea of course, but I’d bide my time.  I already figured I knew the half of it – memories ran deep in Skyrim, and I was a Bosmer.

  “Anyway,” he changed the subject as he led me back to Skjor, “The Bald One said he had a job for us, so let’s see what he wants us to do?”

  That was fine by me…the sooner I started getting some work done, the sooner I’d manage to raise enough gold to get out of Skyrim.  Win-win as far as I was concerned.  We found Skjor up at the feasting hall, and he told us what the job was.

  “We’ve got some intelligence from a scholar that there’s another Fragment to be found.”  He said this as if it was supposed to mean something to me, and the way Farkas’s face lit up, I assumed it did, but I was still in the dark.

  “Fragment?  Of what?”

  “Of Wuuthrad; it’s the axe of Ysgramor – he was the founder of the Companions,” Skjor replied.  ”Legend says the Companions cannot achieve their former glory without it.  It’s the Elf-Slayer.”

  I winced at that – I was well aware of the bad blood between Nords and our kind.  I certainly didn’t want to find a symbol of those grim times, especially with civil war ravaging the land.  That Whiterun as a whole was neutral didn’t mean Whiterun’s people were.  I eyed the mead-stained flagstones and the bits of food littering the hall – glory, I suppose, was a worth-while thing to try and acquire, but again, as far as I was concerned, it didn’t apply to me.

  Only, it did.  Skjor was still talking.  ”So, I’m going to send you and Farkas after the Fragment. Rumour has it it’s located in Dustman’s Cairn.”

  “What?”  I stared at Skjor, who stared impassively right back.  ”You’re asking me to find a fragment to an elf-killing axe?  Am I the only one seeing the irony here?”

  “Should have asked for a bit more history on the Companions before you joined,” Skjor rumbled, his face as stormy as his voice.  ”Or are you going to turn and run like every other milk-drinker in this hall?  Do you have any strong fibre in that wasted body of yours at all?”

  So, this is what I had landed myself into!  Brilliant…out of Dovahkiin and straight into a bunch of racial purists.  I couldn’t believe my luck.  However now they were both staring at me, as if they knew exactly what was going through my mind, and I wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction.

  “Fine,”  I grated tersely.  ”I’m in.”

  “Farkas is going with you as your shield-brother,” Skjor continued.  This means he is sworn to protect you with his life.  However, I don’t think I have to tell you if you get him killed by doing anything stupid, we will all hunt you down with Vilkas in the lead.”

  “Never happen,” Farkas grunted.  ”I’m tougher than I look.”

  It wasn’t an idle threat however…they meant it, and I knew it without it even needing to be said.  So…this was a test of some kind.  They wanted to test my resolve.  A bit of fetch-and-carry and pummelling one of their number wasn’t enough.  I suppose being a Bosmer I could understand that on one level.  But at the same time it felt as if I was being singled out.  There were other young-bloods in Jorrvaskr but none of them had been put to task.  This was for my benefit in particular.

  Damn wyrd.

  “We had better get going then, we can’t waste any time,” Farkas said, turning on his heel and grabbing an apple off the feast table as he went. I had enough time to snatch a few slices of boar meat as we went out the door, and off to Dustman’s Cairn.

  It wasn’t a long walk, and Farkas wasn’t a big talker, but I managed to ask him a bit more about the Companions and what it meant to him.  His perspective made it sound like paradise, but I’d heard a very different view from others.  Maybe to his simple mind he was happy – he had food, he got to brawl as much as he liked, and for all his slow wit the Companions liked him and counted him as kin.  I envied his simplicity.

  As soon as we came to the Cairn, my heart was in my throat.  Cairn.  I should have known what Cairn meant…tomb.  Draugr.  Have I mentioned I hate draugr?  Hate them. This was going to be a nightmare.  I just stared at the entrance to the place, which already had skeletons milling about, shambling mindlessly to and fro.  Without even a moment’s hesitation, Farkas brought his sword out and charged forward, growling and cursing like a rabid dog.  And me?  I just stood there, frozen in place.

  “What’s wrong?” Farkas frowned as he strode forward, sheathing his sword, his brows furrowed.  I willed myself to move, shaking my head and hoping the next step I took I wasn’t going to faint.

  “Nothing…”

  Farkas stretched an arm out to me, halting me a moment.  It didn’t take much, however – he could have knocked me over with a cough.  ”I’m big, and I’m strong.  I have no problem punching anyone in the face who calls me stupid.  But if there’s spiders in there…I’m going to go pretty much like you just did.”

  “What?”  I stared at Farkas – I thought at first he was just giving me a good jab in the ego, but I saw the look on his face; he was serious.

  “Yeah, I know,” he muttered rather defensively.  ”Big man like me, scared of spiders – “

  “The spiders in Skyrim are pretty big,” I admitted, and he shuddered, waving a hand at me to beg me not to continue.

  “I know!  Please just…don’t go on.”  He took a somewhat shaky breath, then gave me a rather sheepish grin.  ”What I’m saying is, I’ll have your back, if you’ll have mine, all right?  It’s what being a shield-sibling is all about.  I won’t let a draugr get anywhere near you.  Spiders are all yours.  Deal?”

  “Deal.”  Yes, I liked the man already.  So very much not like his brother.

  He grinned, and drew his blade, taking the lead.  ”I’m not very stealthy, but I’ll try to be quiet as I can.  Let’s just get it done.”

  And so, in we went – the place was crawling with draugr, but Farkas was true to his word – not a single draugr got close enough to get more than a few blows in before he cut them clean in half, roaring in fury and a seemingly limitless amount of energy.  He was lethal in battle – if this was what Vilkas was holding back when I had sparred with him, I now understood why he had.  I knew the Nord’s were fierce fighters – whether they knew it or not, we had enough songs dedicated to the Nords in Valenwood about what honourable enemies they were, and it was considered a high case of status if your family had the skull of a Nord in its shrine of the Eaten Dead.  But I’d never seen anything like this before.

  We came now to a large room – some sort of old apothecary or something, though I couldn’t understand for the life of me why it was in the middle of a crypt.  The way was barred, and I was looking for the trigger, splitting up from Farkas to seek it out – after all I was the better sneak.  I could hear him in the other room keeping watch as I found a lever and gave it a tug.

  I heard a hiss and a clang behind me, and knew immediately what had happened.  What an idiot I was – I had triggered a gate which closed me into the chamber I was in, and the lever wouldn’t bring it back up.

  “Now look what you got yourself into,” Farkas sighed, although there was a grin tugging at his lips.  ”I’m surprised I wasn’t the one who did it first!  Don’t panic, I’ll find the trigger and – “

  He froze and then, to my surprise, he lifted his head and sniffed the air.  I have no idea what he was smelling, or how – my senses are more acute than a Nord’s but all I could smell was dust and decay.  Farkas was frowning, tense as a bowstring, and he drew his blade.  ”What was that?”

  I had no idea what he was hearing, all I knew was he was on the wrong side of the gate and there was nothing I could do.  Cursing under my breath, I turned my attention hastily to the lever – maybe I could reach into my old-school bag of tricks so I could get out and help him.

  Now I heard voices, and when I turned round, Farkas was surrounded by a group of brigands; they were dressed in wolf-pelts, and their faces were grim.  The blades they were carrying were strange – they gleamed more than steel, and I squinted at them – silver?  Why silver?

  “That’s one there, isn’t it?” A woman asked as she circled round to Farkas’ left, tossing one of the gleaming daggers from hand to hand.

  “Of course it is, look at the armour, only those sworn dogs wear that,” a man replied, his eyes gleaming as he threw his burning torch down and drew his own blade.  ”Ready for death, cursed thing?”

  “I’m always ready for death,” Farkas snarled.  ”But it’s not my death waiting, but your own.”

  To my horror, he put away his blade and stood tall.  I thought for sure he was giving himself up, and there was nothing I could do.  But before I could leap rather futilely at the bars or try and jimmy-open the lever mechanism, something was happening.  A sickening crunch, and wet slithering noises.  Farkas doubled over in pain, and shuddered, his back arching.  His back was to me, but I could see his arms were starting to change.  His skin rippled, bubbled, and sprouted hair…then I realised it was fur.  His whole body was changing, and he was growing in height.  In a matter of seconds – merely four hammering beats of my heart, Farkas was gone…and in his place was a massive wolf, standing on two legs.

  I couldn’t believe what I was seeing…but even though the band of ruffians circling him skipped backwards, they didn’t seem particular surprised.  ”On him!”  They charged, six to one.

  And it did no good…one after the other, they fell, though they scored the werewolf with their silver blades, it only made him angrier.  He ripped them apart, one by one, and the final one fled, but I could hear the snarls of the beast and the death cries of the last brigand, cut very short, and very brief.

  Silence fell down upon the cairn, and I stared in shock at the bleeding corpses.  There was a shuffling noise to my left, then the gate I leaned upon shuddered slightly, and rose up.  After a few moments, Farkas appeared, buckling on his shoulderpads – blood on his hands, and round his lips.  Neither of us spoke for a moment.

  “I’m sorry you had to see that,” Farkas said quietly.  ”But we’ve had problems with that group for some time.  They’re werewolf hunters…and they know all about us.”

  “About…you’re all werewolves?”  But as soon as I said that I knew it wasn’t true.  The new folks were not…but the others, the ones who moved all wrong, yes, they were.  ’But I still hear the calling of the blood’.  So, that explained it then.

  “It’s a long story, and before you ask, I’m not going to hurt you.  I’m still your shield-brother.  I’ll protect you.  It’s just going to be more difficult if they’re here.  They probably want the Shard as well.”

  “Are you going to…”  I could finish the sentence, but I didn’t have to.

  “No, no, I’m not going to turn you – and I know you’ve got a lot of questions, but let’s keep our eye on the prey, not the horizon.  Look too far ahead and we’ll lose the prize in here.  We’ve a job to do.”

  I took a deep breath, and then I nodded, giving Farkas a somewhat uneasy smile; it was un-nerving and I wasn’t sure I wanted anything to do with the Companions now…and yet, on some level, I could commiserate.  My people had the Wild Hunt, and these Nord were werewolves; I could just imagine how dangerous it was for them to be in the middle of Whiterun, trying to hide their natures, with hunters shadowing their every step.  I suppose I should have high-tailed it right then, but I couldn’t quite bring myself to do it.

  “You’re well aware my people can turn into beasts when a time of great need is upon us,” I replied.  ”It’s a grim doom – I think what your people called ‘wyrd’.  But you’re still my shield-brother, Farkas.  That hasn’t changed.”

  He blinked – it took him a while to process what I was saying, and then he smiled again.  I found myself warming to the man, werewolf or not.   What can I say?  I like the burly types.  In any event, the awkward moment had passed and we made our way forward again.

  After a few more draugr dispatched, and we even found a few of the Silver Hand; I pocketed a silver dagger or two – might be worth a bit of coin if melted down.  Then the trouble happened; Farkas froze at a door and couldn’t move.  I tapped his shoulder and he ducked back and pressed himself against the wall.  There was sweat on his upper lip and his eyes were wide.  All he could do was look at me, both embarrassed and horrified, then he closed his eyes and shook his head.  I didn’t need any more information; I nodded, reached up for an arrow in my quiver and strung my bow – to be truthful I felt glad I finally had something to contribute.  Farkas had been doing all the work so far.

  I didn’t waste any time – I merely ducked a look round, counted the spiders, and let the bowstring do the talking, drawing arrows smooth and surely from the quiver and dispatching whatever moved.  The bigger spider was a bit more difficult, and that required swordwork, but I managed it.  Farkas tried at least; he made it into the room and drew his sword, but every swing of his sword cost him.  That he did anything at all was testament enough to his spirit.

  The last spider was twitching, then lay still, and I looked over at my shield-brother; his hands were shaking, but he nodded his thanks to me, and I clapped his shoulder encouragingly.

  “Nearly there, mate, let’s get it done, aye?”

  “Aye,” he murmured back, and we managed to press on.

  A Silver Hander trying to be cunning was lying in a crypt.  However she was considerably fresher than the other dead we’d been dealing with.  I snuck up on the crypt and she never had time to move.  Done and done.  I got a bit quick-fingered as we went on, grabbing a few trinkets on the way though I tried not to let Farkas see me doing it – I doubted a Nord would be thrilled with me raiding a burial ground.

  Finally we came to what was the main chamber, and with a sinking feeling I counted all the crypts inside. This…wasn’t going to be pretty.  Grimly, Farkas adjusted his grip on his blade and nodded, taking a defensive position as I snuck forward for the shard…and then -

  And then I felt the damn pull again.  Something was here.  I couldn’t get away from this, could I?  Damn the wyrd…I realised off to the side was another of those Word Walls, with a few of the glyphs gleaming.  Again, against my will, I was pulled to one side, again against my will those glyphs filled the world, and flowed through me.  Understanding, words, Thu’um.

  “Dreema….Dreema!”

  Farkas was hissing at me between his teeth – I only now heard him, and I shook my head, shuddering slightly.  No, I wasn’t going to use it.  I wasn’t even going to try.  I didn’t care, I didn’t want to know.  End of.  Back to the task at hand, which meant picking up the fragment of age-pocked metal upon the altar ahead of us.

  Taking a steadying breath and drawing my blade, I carefully lifted the fragment up and placed it in my packs.  Almost immediately, stone ground against stone, dust rained down upon the floor, and the dead rose in a drove from their resting places.

  It was easier – not better, but easier.  This time, I did my share – mostly due to the fact I knew there was no way I was going to be using Shouts.  It was a desperate fight even so, and Farkas fought like an animal cornered, which indeed we were.  No matter how many we put down, more poured into the chamber.

  “We’ve got to get out of here,” I called, as Farkas sliced the head of a draugr clean off with a savage swing, but I could tell he was tiring.

  “There’s only one way out!” he cried back, kicking another draugr fiercely in the chest and sending it staggering back into its comrades.

  Desperately I scanned the room – there had to be another way, surely there was another way.  It took a moment and I almost missed it, but along the right side of the wall was a rusted, cobweb covered chain.  It could have been just another decoy but it was the only option we had.  I leapt forward and pulled it so hard I expect it just to come right out of the wall, rust and all.  Instead, a second of the wall before me shifted, and then sank into the floor, leading up into a dank tunnel and just up above I could see a faint shaft of light from the sky outside.

  “Farkas!”  I gestured to him as I called.  He swung with a growl again and cleared draugr in his wake, then backed toward the tunnel.

  “Go! Go!”  He covered my flanks as I scurried through the tunnel, scrabbling for purchase but moving as swiftly as I could.  I could hear Farkas behind me, dragging his sword behind him so it wouldn’t catch on the ceiling overhead.

  Before me, the sunlit sky beckoned, and I burst out into the light, with Farkas close upon my heels.  The draugr however were creatures of darkness, and we could hear their hisses and whispers falling back, then going away completely.

  Breathing in deep lungfuls of fresh, sweet air, I fell over and rolled onto my back.  Farkas was beside me, his hands on his knees.  We looked at each other, covered in dust and cobwebs, and chuckled the relieved laughs of two people just glad to be alive.

  “Got it?”

  “I should damn well hope I do!” I replied, checking my pack just to be sure.  There it was – a simple hunk of metal, but when Farkas took it in his hand, he held it with a solemn reverence.

  “Yes, this is it.  We’re done.  Let’s get back to Jorrvaskr, sister.”

  I grinned; for a moment I forgot I was doing the job for one purpose only – I had a friend now, for good or for ill, and even in my self-serving heart, I felt rather good about that.

  “Fine by me, brother, let’s go.”

  (doing a two-fer today as I've got stuff to do tomorrow and can't write for a bit)