For the first time, all the Companions were home but no songs of glory were sung, no mead was drank in merry, no good natured fights broke out and no laughter rang out in the night as they recalled stories of honor.
No… for the first time in many years Jorvashkr was silent.
The great mead hall was silent as the heavy rain pounded against the roof. The sheer silence that emitted from the hall made all the citizens in Whiterun on edge and nervous. Not a night had gone by where loud and boisterous noises couldn’t be heard from the old hall. Too hear it so silent…
It grew so disconcerting that a few of the citizens actually ventured towards Jorvashkr, wearing thick cloaks to shield themselves from the rain. However when they got the front doors they saw that the doors were open and no one could be seen in the main hall. However the citizens saw that there was a trail of watered down blood that led to the Skyforge. Following it they found all the Companions there.
None of the Companions had cloaks to keep the rain off their backs, letting the cold droplets ran down their bodies and saddened faces, dripping with war paint, as they surrounded the Skyforge. The oldest Companions, Kodlak, Gunnar and then the old forge master Eorlund were standing the closest. Gunnar and Eorlund were adding something to the Skyforge from small red dishes that made the fire glow a near white hot.
No one dared tread up more than half the steps, fearing to tread on the ritual though they had no clue to what they were doing.
“Bring the body forward” Someone said.
Farkas, the larger of the twins came forward holding a very large, strangely object wrapped in thick cloth and linen. Black tears rolled down his cheeks as his war paint dripped down in rivulets and he strode forward with the strange object. He sniffed miserably down at the thing as he handed it off to Gunnar. Gunnar took the object and carefully tossed into the fire.
Despite the harsh rain, the object caught fire immediately and started burning with a foul stench that was reminiscent of burning flesh, burnt alchemic ingredients and burning cloth.
“Today we commit this soul to Sovngarde” The voice was calm, deep and rich but colored with incredible sadness and age “His life has been filled with honor and glory in battle and we beg the Nine to commit him to the hall of the other great warriors and not the cursed realm of the cursed prince of the hunt”
The prayer was lost on the civilians, but as the fires consumed the body, all the Companions lowered their heads in lament.
~*~
Gunnar had only allowed himself a moment of sadness before he took the authority of a father.
He prepared Skjor’s body for cremation, informed Kodlak of the sad news, and helped Eorlund gather enough fire salts to get the fire hot enough to burn even with the rain. He even said the rites of passage for the old Companion during his cremation.
When the funeral was over he ushered everyone inside. While Kodlak and Eorlund warmed their old bones by the fires, Gunnar made sure that Alea, Farkas, Athis, Ria, Njada, Tovar and Vilkas all got dried and got to bed.
He sat with Alea as she sobbed and wailed miserably, wiping away remnants of her war paint from her face and stroking her back with each agonized scream. And when she had cried herself to sleep he tucked her in, doused the lights in her room and then went to check up on the whelps. While they weren’t nearly attached to Skjor as the older members they were still heart broken by the loss of one of their own and he sat with them for awhile, speaking calmly and soothingly until they went to bed before checking up on the twins.
Farkas and taken a bedroll and was in Vilkas’ room. The twins didn’t want to be alone, and it made it easier for the old warrior to find them both.
“There you are” He said as he entered Vilkas’ room.
The twins had already gotten ready for bed, but both were staring blankly up at the ceiling. Vilkas numbly sat up when Gunnar entered, a small part of him begging for that comfort that the older Nord could provide.
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timeasmymeasure
Old Scales 32/?
Date: 2013-03-09 02:11 am (UTC)No… for the first time in many years Jorvashkr was silent.
The great mead hall was silent as the heavy rain pounded against the roof. The sheer silence that emitted from the hall made all the citizens in Whiterun on edge and nervous. Not a night had gone by where loud and boisterous noises couldn’t be heard from the old hall. Too hear it so silent…
It grew so disconcerting that a few of the citizens actually ventured towards Jorvashkr, wearing thick cloaks to shield themselves from the rain. However when they got the front doors they saw that the doors were open and no one could be seen in the main hall. However the citizens saw that there was a trail of watered down blood that led to the Skyforge. Following it they found all the Companions there.
None of the Companions had cloaks to keep the rain off their backs, letting the cold droplets ran down their bodies and saddened faces, dripping with war paint, as they surrounded the Skyforge. The oldest Companions, Kodlak, Gunnar and then the old forge master Eorlund were standing the closest. Gunnar and Eorlund were adding something to the Skyforge from small red dishes that made the fire glow a near white hot.
No one dared tread up more than half the steps, fearing to tread on the ritual though they had no clue to what they were doing.
“Bring the body forward” Someone said.
Farkas, the larger of the twins came forward holding a very large, strangely object wrapped in thick cloth and linen. Black tears rolled down his cheeks as his war paint dripped down in rivulets and he strode forward with the strange object. He sniffed miserably down at the thing as he handed it off to Gunnar. Gunnar took the object and carefully tossed into the fire.
Despite the harsh rain, the object caught fire immediately and started burning with a foul stench that was reminiscent of burning flesh, burnt alchemic ingredients and burning cloth.
“Today we commit this soul to Sovngarde” The voice was calm, deep and rich but colored with incredible sadness and age “His life has been filled with honor and glory in battle and we beg the Nine to commit him to the hall of the other great warriors and not the cursed realm of the cursed prince of the hunt”
The prayer was lost on the civilians, but as the fires consumed the body, all the Companions lowered their heads in lament.
~*~
Gunnar had only allowed himself a moment of sadness before he took the authority of a father.
He prepared Skjor’s body for cremation, informed Kodlak of the sad news, and helped Eorlund gather enough fire salts to get the fire hot enough to burn even with the rain. He even said the rites of passage for the old Companion during his cremation.
When the funeral was over he ushered everyone inside. While Kodlak and Eorlund warmed their old bones by the fires, Gunnar made sure that Alea, Farkas, Athis, Ria, Njada, Tovar and Vilkas all got dried and got to bed.
He sat with Alea as she sobbed and wailed miserably, wiping away remnants of her war paint from her face and stroking her back with each agonized scream. And when she had cried herself to sleep he tucked her in, doused the lights in her room and then went to check up on the whelps. While they weren’t nearly attached to Skjor as the older members they were still heart broken by the loss of one of their own and he sat with them for awhile, speaking calmly and soothingly until they went to bed before checking up on the twins.
Farkas and taken a bedroll and was in Vilkas’ room. The twins didn’t want to be alone, and it made it easier for the old warrior to find them both.
“There you are” He said as he entered Vilkas’ room.
The twins had already gotten ready for bed, but both were staring blankly up at the ceiling. Vilkas numbly sat up when Gunnar entered, a small part of him begging for that comfort that the older Nord could provide.
“Are you two alright?” He asked softly.
They both shook their heads.