It's been a while! I apologize again for the roughness of this chapter, but hope it is up to par! Thank you to all the alerts and favorites and reviews!

I managed to make this chapter a little longer than the other, and I'm hoping to come up with enough ideas to make the next chapter longer yet. For now, read and enjoy, and for the love of Talos don't go camping anytime soon. Enjoy!

Chapter 1: Unease

The young gelding underneath Vaengr seemed unperturbed by the snow. His coat was chestnut and wiry underneath her wandering fingers, and his mane soft. Vaengr was envious that the cold did not sting him as it did her. Puffs of the horse's breath fell over the steel clad man leading by the reins.

She took a moment to closer look at her companion. Farkas was less perturbed by the cold than the horse, trudging his own path down the mountain slopes. His cheeks were red and his armor creaked as he readjusted his grip on the reins. Farkas had told her the horse would not abide his weight along with hers in such snow, thus she rode alone. But Vaengr knew it was his weight alone the horse could not hold because she weighted nothing. The man, although massive and gentle-mannered, often spoke bluntly, carelessly, and without tact.

"I'm not good with words," he said, "My brother was born with the smarts." Vaengr carefully nodded, not sure if his brother was an off-topic in terms of conversation. She did not want to offend him.

She had not spoke much since crying two days before - - not more than was necessary, in her opinion, after having lived with the Falmer. Farkas did not seem to mind that she was physically inept with her frost bitten body and helped her menially. Vaengr often shied away from his help, embarrassed and scared.

Vaengr caught her mind before it ran rampant, jolted back by the brief pause in the gelding's step. The mountain path thinned slowly, before it was a mere rock ledge winding slowly around the mountain. She clung to the beast below her, feeling each of its quick breaths beneath expand.

"Is this safe?" perhaps he heard the terror in her voice, yet he did not stop.

"Who knows," he replied, "These mountains are not my home. But we must go through them to reach Jorrvaskr, home of the Companions. My brother and I live there."

Vaengr knew little of the outside world. She had only been a child when the Falmer had raided her family cottage in the mountains, stealing her into the deep and murdering her family.

"What shall happen when we reach it?" she enquired.

The hulking man ran this thick fingers back through his dark hair before scratching his stubble. "You ask a lot of questions I haven't thought about." Vaengr's lips pursed slightly, unsure. "You going to tell me your name? You're more talkative than usual." He made it seem as if a name was required to go with him to Jorrvaskr.

After a moment of the deafening cold and the horses hooves breaking the surface of the wind hardened snow, she clutched the horse's mane tight. "Vaengr," she answered.

Farkas did not turn. He may not have heard her - - but perhaps it was for the better.

Night had fallen by the time the mountain path had widened and the bitter snowberries had grown into the tall thick pines surrounding the mountain base. Snuffling and snorting, the horse grazed along the mountain stream as Farkas made camp, tossing a bedroll to the ground before a crackling fire which lit the surroundings with a golden glow.

Vaengr watched this with weary eyes, listening warily to every sound that came out of the woods and each creaking shift of the warrior's steel armor. Finally he rested, and patted the bed pelt. "Come, you'll get cold." She may have been a strong woman, but she was tired and already cold, and knew he would be good to her. He draped the pelt over her shoulders and she clutched it as tightly as she could with her blackened fingers, burying her cold face into the soft wolf fur. The air was still icy enough that clenching her face, she could feel the tight muscles refrain from moving back.

They ate quietly of rabbits, and then laid down to rest. Only a few hours past before Vaengr woke, feeling disturbed. She was unsure if it was because of the eerie feeling in her bones, or the fact Farkas had not stripped his armour before rest this time, making sleep uncomfortable. His deep breaths ruffled her hair and his arm draped around her body, holding it tight to his.

No sound came from the woods instead only a hollow wind blew through the trees, and it was suddenly apparent she was not the only one awake as a calloused hand covered her lips. Moments later she heard the horse bellow in pain before the sound cut short and somewhere in the woods, it fell to the leaf strewn ground.

"Shh," Farkas's voice was low, his hot breath caressing against her neck.

Vaengr's short lived feelings condensed into a moment of terror, heart drumming like those metal machines in the deep, as a white contorted face appeared from the trees. The sightless face and the gaunt paper-thin skin glowed in the embers of the dead fire as it neared, hunched, breathing in long, horrible, lungfuls through the slitted nose. And as the Falmer came nearer it grasped a wicked dagger in its claw, fresh horse blood dripping from its sharp edge.

Farkas sprung to his feet, broad sword in hands. The Falmer's shriek turned into a horrible hissing gargle, as with one swing of the blade, Farkas hacked through the creature's crude armor and into its shoulder. And yet, its dying battle shriek was enough to alert others.

"Watch out!" Vaengr cried not a moment late, as another mer- - and another unending, charged from the woods with long ghastly swords drawn above their heads. Just as Farkas jerked his sword free from the fallen Falmer with a grunt he kicked one of the beasts back with a heavy boot - - a loud crack splitting the air.

A million different thoughts swirled in Vaengr's head - - a hunting party? For what - - her? Prey? Where had they come from? Had they followed her? Vaengr scrambled to find her feet, her bandaged hands grasping the end of a log in the coals. The injured Falmer crumpled as she split the log over his head with an appalling thwack and spray of embers, oily blood flowing from the gash.

A heavy torso hurled into her side not a moment later, knocking her into the cold ground. Claws grabbing at Vaengr's hair and clothes she shrieked and kicked, somehow managing to knock the animal off. A horrible piercing screech broke forth as its fall broke against the still hot coals of the nights fire and the smell of cooking flesh filled Vaengr's nose. The Falmer's pain boosted its vicious hatred, snarling at her and baring sharp sickly teeth imbedded in pale wet gums. She scrambled backwards, heaving for air, only pounding in her head.

The beast lunged and she screamed as it screamed, her eyes squeezing shut and clenching the broken end of the stick before her-

Hot wet blood gushed through her dirty bandaged hands and over her ragged clothes. Gargling spasms wracked the Falmer and Vaengr flinched, staring into the creatures eyeless gaze and snarling face. It took one long moment to realize that it was not her blood that was hot against her skin, nor her life that had gone. Her frightened breaths were nearly smothered underneath the dead weight of the Falmer.

A moment later with the crunching of ground, the corpse was heaved off her. "Are you hurt?" Farkas looked worse for wear than she, his armour dented and a long bloody gash along his arm, one of his eyes blinded by blood from a wound to his eyebrow, matting his hair. He thought her eyes looked wild by the pale moonlight.

"I-I'm fine." Vaengr managed with a winded breath.

"The horse is dead," Farkas brought her to her feet, "we should head out in case there's more."

As Farkas gathered camp, Vaengr looked at the broken Falmer acrimoniously. They deserved a more painful death than this. She'd seen them torture others, like her, for no other reason than not being Falmer, sometimes they'd brutalize their own - - those that were weak or sick, or just not in with the others. The Falmer were more beast than mer, like pale troll-kin.

They traveled some distance before the roar of a river met their ears, for which Vaengr was thankful, as she could barely keep pace with the giant of a man who forged down the mountain without a care. The mountain base had leveled out into a frozen veld, where tundra grass was abundant and only shrubs broke the tenuous horizon. Far across the plains there was a light, a red glow bright against Masser's and Secunda's light. The two moons were so large, with nothing to block the view, that Vaengr felt she could touch them.

"What's that?" she panted, referring to the fire across the prairie.

Farkas turned to look as he kneeled next to the river, "That's Whiterun. Jorrvaskr is within its gates." The man cupped his hands in the water and drank greedily, as did she after a moment longer.

His wound still bled, but slightly; Farkas rubbed his forearm with cool water to wash away the dried blood and a low grunt escaped him. The cut next to his eye had all but stopped.

"Does it hurt badly?" she asked, touching at his forearm with her finger tips.

He tensed, "It's just a flesh wound, it will heal." For the first time since meeting the long haired Nord, his dark eyes were slightly wary. Vaengr looked closer at the wound, and thought that it was not as bad as she first thought, and reached to touch the wound - his hand clamped over hers. "You mustn't."

"I can sew it shut," Vaengr thought his actions odd, but didn't question him. "If it isn't sewn shut, you'll take ill before we reach this Jorrvaskr, and I cannot carry you the rest of the way."

He thought over her logic (it had been his logic, not long ago) for a little longer before consenting, as his large hands were not very good with a needle. One was fetched from his traveling gear with a length of strong horse hair. She washed the wound a bit better than he and methodically sew the serrated wound together. Certain that it would hold, she tore a bit of cloth from her shirt and dipped it in the water to dab at his brow.

"How does it look?" he asked as Vaengr cleared dried blood from his eye, and with it, dark war paint.

"You'll live," she said softly, not expecting this moment to bring back the feeling of Fornjot's loss. Her throat felt hot and with some restraint she finished giving the man back the use of his eye. If the burly man noticed her changed in demeanor he said not, and for that Vaengr was thankful.

They reached Whiterun late mid-day. Ragged, Vaengr's feet felt more bloodied and bruised from the trek than from frostbite. The large village busied with people; just inside the gate Vaengr had hollowly watched a woman sweat before a forge, pounding a hammer on iron on anvil. The bellows whooshed and the clanging of steel on steel echoed from the gray stone walls. Vaengr tried to remember the few times as a child when she'd gone to market with her father, but holding the images was harder than holding water.

Jorrvaskr's shield decorated hull beckoned. Farkas and Vaengr had made it half way up the steps before a woman called, "Look what the dog's drug in this time!" She stood, arms crossed and green eyes piercing beneath her wild red hair. Her nose upturned slightly "Ugh, that smell. Did a bunch of skeever's piss on ye? You're wounded too." But she was not unfriendly.

"There was trouble." Farkas grunted noncommittally, easing his way up to the doors. It took him a moment to realized Vaengr hadn't followed, and turned towards her.

The woman eyed Vaengr, sizing her starved body and her bloody rags of clothes. The woman's voice was husky and sharp. "I'm Aela, the Huntress. Who are you?"

"Vaengr." Her voice wavered, unsure. Aela's stony stare disconcerted her, as, just like Farkas's, she felt something strange inside it. Vaengr had learned in the Blackreach not to distrust herself, for death was common to those who did - - and yet Vaengr wondered if it was just in her head. The Falmer imprisoned her no longer, there was little need for such stress.

Farkas's warm hand, landing on her shoulder, reprieved Vaengr from her thoughts. "Come, I'll speak to Kodlak and get you a bed. He'll know what to do."

"She's not fit to be a Shield Sister, ice-for-brains," Aela said, goading him. Vaengr decided right then that she did not particularly care for this woman, who knew nothing of her but was quick to make assumptions. Vaengr may not have known what a Shield Sister exactly was, or even if she wanted to become one - for that matter would, but who was this Huntress to doubt? Vaengr pursed her lips.

Farkas frowned at the nickname, "That's not for you to decide." The man lead past Aela who only watched Vaengr with that unnerving gaze to the double doors.

The warm mead hall took Vaengr in. The heavy wooden and stone built walls reflected the glow of the fire pit before the long rectangular table, but was empty besides two occupants. An old Nord with balding hair and impressive armor sat to the far right, and next to him another man of similar age and same armour but his gray-white hair was long and braided with twine. He stroked his full beard with a gnarled hand as Farkas tossed his ruined trappings to the floor.

"Farkas, you're late!" the first had a degree of command to his voice, and as he turned towards them fully Vaengr saw his eye had been torn from socket long ago. It must have been a horrible wound at one point, perhaps nearly killing him. His one working eye struck gold on her. "Who's this?"

"Vaengr," Farkas introduced, stepping down to the table. "She needs a bed." It seemed more of a statement than a request.

To her, this place did not feel welcoming. It was too open, the people strangers. But the food… it was more food than she'd ever remembered seeing before. Her mouth watered, unwanted, but her stomach could not force a growl.

"Come here, girl," the balding man beckoned with his hand.

"I am no girl," she managed.

The other smiled beneath his beard, "Pay no mind to Skjor, come where I can see you."

She stood before him, his stern face made of hard lines and although he was sitting he was still as large and imposing as a bear. Vaengr could see now how truly old he was and in his blue eyes a certain keenness of spirit. She assumed he was Kodlak.

"A girl you are not. This blood, is it yours?"

She looked to her blood stained clothes, "No, milord."

"Then whose?"

"The blood is Falmer," Farkas answered, "she killed two. Hit one over the head and stabbed the other with a twig." A log is no twig.

"Falmer?" Skjor spit, as if the word disgusted him. "Story tales, to keep the children in bed."

"They aren't. We were attacked ," Vaengr asseverated. The fire crackled for one long moment, as the conviction in Vaengr's voice rang true.

"Falmer blood," Farkas asserted with her. "And that mining job, they were there as well."

Skjor broke the silence with a small amount of disbelief - understandably, if he could not trust Vaengr, he could trust his own. "Kodlak…?" his question trailed, as if waiting for agreement.

Kodlak's eyes searched Vaengr, looking into her soul. Perhaps he could see her past, perhaps he only saw her as she was, as a starved woman with frost bitten limbs. He stroked his beard for a moment more. "Jorrvaskr is a home for willing hearts. If it is a bed she wishes, so be it. Tilma!"

A haggard old woman appeared, dark rings around her eyes as if she had not caught much sleep, rolling a wooden ladle against her apron. Her lips were pursed and her eyes surprisingly rough for one so old. Her voice was weak, and cracked. "Yes?"

"Clean this one up, and show her to your quarters."

"I see," the woman formed what must have been a smile, "someone to help me?" but Tilma did not wait for Kodlak's answer, instead turning to Vaengr and hushing her along with surprising strength. "This way, dear. This way. A nice bath will get that blood of ye."

Vaengr barely managed a thank you to the bear like man in his throne seat.

"Be careful with her, Tilma!" Farkas called, but he did not sound worried, before Skjor and Kodlak turned back to him.

Vaengr wondered if she should be.

Now for reviews! :) (also with much thanks, as will be apparent!) THANK YOU FOR READING AND PLEASE REVIEW. Reviews inspire me to write.

Catori1207: I live in Minnesota, and unfortunately, have had frostbite before! I recovered though. And that shit hurts. :) I'm happy my thesaurus skills paid off!

Y-ko: But... but... Farkas... nekkids D:

Shandriss: LOL I hope he's interested in women, otherwise this story is for naught!

LucitheCompanion: Thank you so much! /blush. I hope you like this chapter as well.

Guest: APPROVED!

Birdy Main: There's just something about big dopey guys/wolves that makes our hearts burn, eh?

Siliniez: I hope you could wait for this! :D

crazililwabbit: Farkas cuddles are the best! Thank you so much :)

Skippie89: I haven't decided yet if I want Fornjot to be her biological son or not, but generally speaking yes :) Thank you!

artattack: I hope you check enough to catch this chapter! Thank you so much!

catcher in the light: Love your review 3 I've read it over and over. I'm happy you liked "At the End" as well! I'm surprised Falmer haven't been used more in stories, cuz they're really creepy (and no one can deny that when they sneak up on you you jump out of your freaking seat D:) I hope you enjoy this chapter as well.

Found-In-Reverie: It's just practice :) thank you so much!

Suilaid: I hope this fulfills your dreams!