Skyrim Page 5 - "NAKED! Naked naked naked "

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Children and Companions (3/4)

[(Anonymous)]

13th Hearthfire, 4E 183

The Nord girl living in Evermore is anything but small and dainty. The Breton girls around her age are smaller than Njada, and most of the boys, too. In fact, the only ones significantly larger than her are Orcs, and one of them is regretting saying anything about it right now.

She's got her foot on his chest, and Borak looks terrified. Petrified, even. He is taller, and more than a bit bulkier, but he's got a year on her. She'll never be quite as big as him, but she'll be close enough. He's strong, for a fourteen-year-old elf, but Njada is swift, and she knows how to hold her ground. Borak doesn't.

It only took a moment for her to knock him on his back, despite his taunts. He always says that a human can never best an Orc in battle. Maybe he's right. Battles are nothing but brute strength against brute strength. An Orc will win a battle, but a Nord will win a war. Wars require leverage, and defense, and planning, and that is what Njada is best at. She can see where he makes mistakes, and she can attack at his weakest spots and deflect what other damage he inflicts in the meanwhile.

Njada is not small and dainty, but that is not why she wins this fight. She wins because she observes.

She smirks as she digs the heel of her boot into his chest, knocking more air out of him. He surrenders, and she turns to the small crowd of other children. Anybody else want a go? They all shake their heads no.

Njada is strong and fearless, but above all else she is smart. As she goes home to her mother that evening, she smiles, knowing full well that she can handle herself.



10th Rain's Hand, 4E 176

When Jergen is still at Jorrvaskr, he doesn't much like to let the twins go to the Bannered Mare with the rest of the Companions. Always says it's too boisterous for a pair of young boys, as if they don't all live in a mead hall anyways.

But Jergen isn't there anymore, and the Companions are welcoming their newest member, Skjor. Farkas isn't sure how, but he's allowed to come along with them. It's exciting, really, being in the hustle and bustle of the tavern, and while he's not allowed to drink mead yet, he can still enjoy the food Kodlak gives him, and he can listen to the stories all the warriors tell.

And then he hears the bard.

For a moment, the rest of the hubbub stops, at least to him. There's only the soft twang of the lute, and the heavily accented voice of the woman singing about battles. Her stories are exciting, even if she doesn't much look like she's seen many battles herself. Her skin has no scars, and she doesn't wear armor. But she sings, and it's like he's there.

Farkas slowly moves away from the Companions, not even fully aware that he's doing it. Before he knows it, he's sitting on the floor in front of the musician, and he's smiling away like it's New Life Festival. The music is pleasing, much sweeter than the gruff voices of drunken fighters day in and day out. Farkas begins to wonder why they all don't sing their stories. They're good stories, anyways, but singing them would make them even better.

That evening, as Tilma shoos him and Vilkas off to bed, Farkas asks if he can have a lute someday. She smiles warmly, and tells him to go get some sleep and that she'll mention something to Askar in the morning.