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Alduin’s Wall

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[valenthebard]

[valenthebard]

"A shield in one hand. A sword in the other.”

*******

And that concludes the sixth chapter of my… silly little fanfic thing. Thanks again, everybody, for following up with this xD You’re all briliant, amazing people.

The last installments can be found here. 

‘Til then :D I’ll be seein' ya! *salutes

[valenthebard]

“There is, of course, the question of what makes a werewolf the leader of the pack. Yet even after all my travels and research, I am still uncertain myself.  Perhaps it is through some rare quality in their personality which they exude, or a chemical in their body which makes the others bear their necks to them willingly?  Winning fights are all well and good for wild wolf packs. But, at the same time, I have reason to believe it is more complicated with our werewolf brethren…” - Excerpt from Chapter 2 (p. 24), “The Werewolf Mating Rituals” written by Solmund Great Wolf

*******

Chapter 6, (for a quicker link, the latest addition in particular is linked here)

[valenthebard]

Endless List of Favorite Women in Videogames →Aela the Huntress

It means waking up every day knowing that you could die, and having to earn your life by clawing for every breath. I don’t know how those cozy lords manage to drag themselves out of bed in the morning. Why bother if you’re not living?

[valenthebard]

Title: Games Between the Predator and the Prey

Summary: Valen just won't shut the hell up.

Timeline? This happens after Aela's Getting Along chapter, which I've yet to write. This idea just came to me, after mentioning to wolfie about one of those wildlife documentary channels where some narra-- well. You'll see :D

  *******

  Predators. One can write many things about these creatures of strength and agility. Predators win against all opposition, and the best lose to none.

Here we spy the best of the best in her natural environment. Body taut like the bow around her back, silent as if in repose, yet every inch of her muscle knows not what tranquility means. Not in this dangerous world of predator and prey.

Aye, if one aims to stay upon the path where the food is highest, and danger is lowest, one must do as this silent, deadly, beautiful beast does…

And wait.

Patience is a virtue for this flawless predator. Hidden behind a façade of deceitful colors: her armor a mesh of browns and greens. The perfect predator blends in to fool their prey.

She spots it. The food which will fill the hungry bellies of her fellows. Whereas they were warriors, she was the beautiful Provider. Nature’s instrument to bring life and longevity upon those warriors who are mere children, posing as adults with their faces smeared with bread and butter.

The prey moves. Weary. Its nose sniffs the air. It can almost sense its invisible foe, but not completely. No. Not while our flawless predator is ever on the move-

  *******

  Annoyed, Aela bit out a groan and turned to glare at her companion, “I swear, Valen, if you don’t shut up now I’ll serve you for dinner instead.”

“What?” the bard smirked, looking much too relaxed to go along with the huntress’ venture. She was leaning against a tree, having long given up ‘listening to the forest’ or whatever lesson it was Aela taught her hours ago, fingers playing imaginary music with a tree branch, “Don’t worry, that thing won’t hear me. We’re like miles away. I’m surprised you can still see it.”

The huntress scoffed and returned to her crouched position, eyes indeed pinning down the rabbit, who was still none the wiser, “I can do many things.”

“I’m sure you can.”

“You’ll be surprised.”

“I already am.”

Aela could already imagine the smug grin on the bard’s face, and shook her head. She reached for the bow behind her back, slowly drawing closer towards the little creature…

  *******

  Ever closer, our predator goes. Intent to find her kill. Intent to make her mark in this unforgiving wilderness, as one of the unbea--

  *******

  “Why are you doing this?” Aela sighed, lowering her bow.

The bard, who was now crouched alongside the red-haired Nord, pouted, “I’m bored.”

“Then you shouldn’t have come.”

“But you’re fun to hang around with.”

“Fun to annoy and irritate is more like it.” Aela grunted, taking a smaller step forward. She lowered her head, looking through the gaps of the crossing green leaves, “Just give me a couple of minutes, and you can start jabbering again.”

“Promise?”

A resigned sigh.

“I promise. Now will you please shut up?”

“Okay.”

  *******

  The predator takes an arrow.

Fine long fingers wrap around the feather fletching of the clever instrument she had carved herself. For she, herself, is a clever animal indeed. So clever, the woods shudder under her brainy might. This clever predator can also create traps upon which to... trap her prey. 

Trap them in a world of inevitability and death. O, cruel fate.

Her focus narrows.

Her spirit strengthens.

She aims her bow at the… the…

.... hey…

Aela, what are you doing with that bow?

Why are you looking at… why are you pointing your bow at me—?

No.

No, no, wait. Just a second, wait. Waitwaitwait. Don’t shoo- OW!

Aela…!

AELA

STOP CHASING ME WITH THAT BOW STOP IT

AELA-- !

SOMEONE SAVE ME AAAaaaa

[valenthebard]

Hello there doves :) I don’t think the latest chapter has appeared on the skyrim kink meme yet (yes, the old link as I have not reposted it yet), but I think providing a link to the chapters will prove to be successful, as I’ve sent the link to dear OP and another dear anon already.

Anyone who is, um, still following through the chapters, here is the first chapter of Part 2 for “The Study of Werewolf Mating Rituals”.

Yep. Have a good day, everyone! :D And, again, thank you very much for sticking through, all you lovely people. Especially since A!A is a dummyhead who can’t seem to focus on completing things all at once.

[valenthebard]

"The loss of an Alpha is considered a serious affair for the entire pack.

Once an Alpha wolf dies, figuring out who the next leader of the pack is oftentimes source for many duels and deaths. As is the case between two kings clashing, those who are considered as the strongest werewolves try to fell each other in order to gain mastership of the title. 

Some packs are less brutal, however rare, and would oftentimes decide the next Alpha after unanimous decision. I have personally not witnessed this yet.

These could only be avoided if the dying Alpha hand-picks the next werewolf to take leadership of the group… nullifying any other werewolf’s right to take the title for themselves.”

- Excerpt from Chapter 2 (p. 22), “The Werewolf Mating Rituals” written by Solmund Great Wolf

(the next chapter for Werewolf Mating Ritauls’ will be up soon lads :) thanks for sticking with me for so long. You’re all golden and lovely people…)

[valenthebard]

Ask Valen #2

Dearest Harbinger,

Thank you for your reply and yes I’ve been a werewolf enthusiast ever since I found a book written by this Solmund fellow, very enlightening. Which leads me to my question, its mentioned in passing how very powerful lady werewolves have certain…extras to their werewolf selves, you’re the Harbinger and famed nord hero of legend you think if you *happened* to be in a *secret society* that requires one to be a werewolf, would your wolf self have hmm dangly bits?  Much love, Wolfie 

  “Hey Athis?”

Athis pulled one of his arrows from the training dummy's chest, and turned his gaze to the Harbinger. He raised an eyebrow when he noticed she was engrossed in another one of those fan letters of hers, and even moreso: at the confused expression addling her face. He sighed, not really liking the disruption to his training, although he couldn't help but feel a bit worried about this as well.

“Aye?” he grunted, tapping the arrow on his shoulder impatiently, “Look, Val, whatever this is, if it’s another double date thing I’m not going to go through that again.” the Dunmer said, barely repressing a shudder.

“No, no, it’s not a double date thing.”

“What is it?”

“What’re ‘dangly bits’?”

Athis frowned, "What?”

“'Dangly bits'?” the Harbinger emphasized, speaking as if she was talking to a small child, “What are 'dangly bits', Athis?”

“I have no clue.” the Dunmer replied, glaring at the woman. It was just another one of those silly things after all. He walked a few paces away from his target and readied his bow and arrow again, losing interest in whatever this mock question was all about, “Why don’t you ask Farkas or something.”

“I already did.” Valen said, waving the letter in Athis’ face, to his annoyance, “He told me to ask you.”

“Ask Vilkas, then.”

“He told me to ask you, too.”

“Well how am I supposed to know what 'dangly bits' - ”

Athis stopped mid-sentence, his eyes widening.

“What?” Valen asked, folding the letter back in her leather vest, “What’s up?”

“Well,” Athis cleared his throat, surely distracted now, as he seemed to have a bit of trouble keeping his arrow aligned with his bow. He lowered it, in case he accidentally poked an eyeball out, letting his gaze fall on the ground as well, “One thing it could mean is, eh…”

Valen glared when he took his sweet time answering her question, “Well?”

Athis seemed to stare at nothing, and Valen doubted the pinpoint of his arrow was worth staring at for so long. “You know.” he shrugged a shoulder and pointedly looked down at himself.

The Harbinger narrowed her eyes, “What?”

“You know.” Athis growled and made a show of looking down this time, making sure she understood he wasn’t just looking ‘down there’, but was looking down at his crotch.

She awkwardly pulled her head back, eyes growing wider than dinner plates, “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Mysteriously, to him, Valen did the same thing and looked down at her own crotch. A strange, and disturbed look crossing her face.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“So ‘dangly bits’ mean…”

“…... yeah.”

  Dear Wolfie,

I have no idea what this Solmund fellow said, but – theoretically, let’s pretend that I am a werewolf, all right? … right: I most definitely do not grow any dangly bits, nor any fleshy apparatuses resembling dangly bits, on my werewolfy person.

I mean can you imagine if I had the ability to do that? I’d have sired millions of little bastards in all of Tamriel by now…. oh sheogorath’s breath…

...  sorry about that messy ink blot. I sort of… blacked out there for a couple of seconds... minutes... maybe an hour…

Anyway, to answer your question Wolfie, I most definitely do not grow dangly bits down there.

Theoretically.

If I were ever a werewolf, of course.

Because a werewolf I most certainly am not.

Yep.

Not a werewolf.

  All the best,

Harbinger, Dovahkiin, not a werewolf, Bard

[valenthebard]

First of all, I am a huge fan of your Derpvahkiin Valen. She's so quirky and adorable that you can't help but to let her grow on you. Secondly, your timeline is extremely helpful so thank you for putting that together. Finally, for my question, does Valen's happy-go-lucky attitude carry over when she becomes a werewolf or is she more serious? For example, does she frolic in mountain flowers and roll around in odd smelling things?

Thank you very, very much my dear anon… I, what, err - I mean my dear friend freewind XD I keep getting things confused.

Thank you so much! I most definitely, honestly did not expect all of this level of positive-ness from everyone who’s willing to read through all my silly wee little writey things. That means a lot—

And I’m glad my timeline is helping! :) Was getting a bit worried about all the timeskipping making it all confusing, so I’m glad the timeline’s working its thing.

Okay! Let’s see - your question, yes, aye, indeed, my dear watson-

For once, and for the first time, I’m going to mention a  little spoiler :D Nope, it doesn’t carry over. That’s all I can say about that without spoiling things, I’m afraid! xD Very sorry for this cheap reply though. um, feel free to ask another, but only if you’d like of course :) h-heh CHEAP

Again, thank you very much! I hope I can keep it entertaining until the very end, my friend

[valenthebard]

Snapdragon - Ronn McFarlane

[valenthebard]

Getting Along: The Mysterious Horn (Part 1/2)

tTitle: The Mysterious Horn, Part 1

Rating: PG so far, since there's quite a lot of violence and cutting things

Characters: f!Derpvahkiin, The Companions

Prompt: 

A/N: I thought very, very long and hard for this prompt, and I had to move the timeline around since this involves one of the quests in Skyrim, but despite all the head thumping and the rabid frustrated flailing - I managed to think of something that's at least a wee bit better than my older ideas :) 

(since most of my ideas for this prompt was so BORING, I couldn't continue them after writing them out XD)

I hope err- this is okay mdear OP? :D ye

Edited: Since I went up and played to see Ustengrav mself, for the sake of accuracy.

Edited: 14Jul'13, just fixed some awkward sentences :D

~~

A sharp blade swung through the air and penetrated the draugr’s withered ribcage. Dried flesh collapsed under its wake, and the body soon followed. The wielder of the sword tilted her head and rubbed her chin, ducking when she heard another blade whizz near her ears. A draugr’s sword easily cut the air, missing her head by inches.

“You have to wonder sometimes: how can they still move around and fight with their twig-like legs?” Valen said, parrying another attack from the draugr and slamming the side of its face with the hilt of her sword. The force made the withered corpse’s head twist sideways in an unsettling angle. She finished it off by chopping its legs in half in one quick sweep of her weapon, “It’s not just me, you've all wondered about how they hold themselves together, right? What if one of them lose an arm - do they trade body parts? Is there like a body-trading marketplace all draugr go to if they can’t find a leg that can’t fit? Boggles my mind, it does."

“Wizards.” Came Ria’s expected reply.

“Of course.” Valen sighed, expertly sidestepping another attack from behind her, “Magic. It’s always magic.”

“Why does it matter? Just hit the damn things, Valen.” Njada shouted from across the room before continuing her battle cries. She ran through two draugr with her shield, tackling them to the ground.

“It matters because-” Valen paused to bury her blade into another enemy’s sternum. Or what was supposed to be their sternum? She couldn’t say. “I am a woman of curiosity.”

A flurry of swift arrows finished the dwindling number off, while Farkas ran back into the fold and killed the rest who were still dragging their bodies on the dirt.

“That’s the last of them.” Aela said, pausing to guide another arrow through an empty eye socket of a flailing draugr. Satisfied it was dead, the huntress slung her bow back in its strap, quick feet bringing her down the stone staircase, one which lead toward the upper levels of the catacomb.

She, Athis, and Farkas didn’t have difficulty killing the rest of their enemies above, therefore their battle in the upper levels didn’t last long enough for their liking.

Ustengrav was indeed an interesting place to explore. And with the walking dead baddies littered here and there – probably protecting something of value – it was your normal birthday party for The Companions. One where there was fun for everybody, warriors and ruin-interested members alike.

This ancient place was host to numerous tombs and remnants of a past civilization. Mostly in the form of broken jugs, golden plates, and ancient weapons, which were still sharp and deadly as if they were new. Going deeper into the catacombs lead them to an open area, where pits covered in fog littered the place, connected by stone bridges while tall elder trees peeked over from curious areas below.

Considering Skyrim was littered with such places, Valen didn’t see why Ustengrav was ‘special', enough for Vilkas to force them to go ruin-hunting a couple of days before her birthday. Especially since adventuring in ancient ruins was sort of hers and Vilkas’ form of passing the time in-between missions, ever since they realized their shared interest in decaying things together. Draugr included.

Valen looked up at the high ceilings, sheathing her sword back in its place. Her boots resonated along the blackened rock walls of the room. Many rows of torches with flickering fire served as the only source of their light, aside from the dim light behind the fog. Once again, the bard wondered how long the flames have been lit after all this time, her ever-curious mind working.

“We found something in them upper levels.” Athis said, “Glowy stones of some sort.”

“That’s it.” Vilkas said, sheathing his sword with an excited flourish, “That’s the reason why I asked everyone to come. Follow me.”

Confused, just a bit fatigued, and smelly from days of travel, the rest of The Companions followed Vilkas to the upper floors of the catacomb, the empty vault now eerie with its fallen dead littering the stones. Well, the deader dead, at least.

Inaudible whispers of an ancient language filled their ears as they made their way through the passageways above. Be they warnings or songs of their glory, they couldn’t tell. Not even Valen uttered a single sound until they arrived at the place where the stones were gathered.

The stones, like the catacomb, didn't look like anything special, but were placed in a very curious way in front of a row of old iron gates. There were swirls and other decorations carved upon it as well, done by well practiced hands despite using crude carving tools.

“Not that I’m not thankful for this,” Valen said, rapping a random tune on one of the stones with her knuckles, “But what in the world is this all about?”

“I heard word there’s something of interest in this place.” replied Vilkas, “I’m not sure what, but isn't this an exciting birthday celebration? Everyone is here together, everyone is fighting draugr together-”

“… Vilkas is smiling.” Njada added.

“Spending a couple of nights camping outside… hey.”

“Admit it,” Valen scratched the back of her neck, wondering if the eyes she could feel watching them were real or just imagined. Shrugging, she turned to look at the other warrior and smirked, “You just heard this rumor from a bandit you beat up days ago, didn’t you? I mean, are you sure there's something in here?

Vilkas took a while to answer her question as he pondered the stones. He stepped near one of them, and watched in muted awe when it glowed a soft red, within the veins carved upon it long ago, “So what if I did?" he said, "And yes I'm sure something's here. Sure I'm sure.”

“… Vilkas doing something stupid.”

“Shut it, Njada.”

  ~~

  It didn’t take long for the group to solve the secret of the three glowing stones. Probably because Vilkas was planning this trip for weeks already. It was simple, really: all they had to do was leave three people from the group to stand next to each of the rocks, thus activating all three so the set of iron gates would open at the same time.

In the end, Farkas, Ria, and Torvar volunteered to be left behind, while the others ventured off through the gates:

“We’re jus’ gonna have our own party here, isn’ tha’ right, fellars?”

“I didn’t even see him drink anything today!” Ria said, trying to prop Torvar’s drunken self up on top of a stone with Farkas’ help.

The halls leading to the next room was darker than they expected, but beyond it they could see another platform lighted by more torches, decorated with a metal fire pit in the middle. Perhaps another puzzle? Or another trap? They couldn’t tell.

“So when they were making all these catacombs,” Valen swatted away something thread-like, which had draped itself across her pauldron-covered shoulder, “Do you think they hired this one architect to design all these? I don’t know about you lot, but I think the man must have been mad. ‘I got an idea. Why don’t we fill these burial places full of traps and puzzles? So when their relatives visit they’ll have a grand old time’.”

“It’s either that or this really isn’t your normal resting place.” Athis whispered, his eyes darting sideways, trying to spot any slight movement.

“I read in a book once about the draugr serving the dragons when they were still alive. More alive, I mean.” Vilkas said, “It’s not my first time meeting one of these cursed warriors, but I have reason to believe they might be speaking the ancient language of the dragons. There's a high possibility they are, and I find that most interesting.”

“Suddenly interested why dragons are appearing all over Skyrim, Vilkas?” Njada teased, stopping so she could examine a curious set of carvings around a wall nearby, “You might need to do something more than explore moldy old ruins. Like maybe visiting the Greybeards, that sort of thing?”

“No, not really-” even if he was curious about it, Vilkas had to admit the mystery of their current dragon infestation stumped even him, “Although there hasn't been any dragon attacks for months lately. I’m thinking it’s the doing of Ulf-”

Aela cleared her throat.

“- of some Nord somewhere, I don’t know.” Vilkas turned to look at the group behind him sheepishly, “Not that I’m making any political statements, of course. Just saying what the people’s been talking about, that’s all.”

“So,” Valen said, after a moment of rare silence in their group, “Do you guys always do this whenever one of you have birthdays?”

“It’s either we go out to kill things, or drink ourselves dead.” Aela said, “You chose both, so-”

“I wanted to be considerate to everyone.” Valen huffed, “I thought it was just a random bandit raid or something. Not this.”

Stepping under the light, and crossing over the platform, the remaining group found suspicious looking tiles as the only thing stopping them from continuing further. Noting the curious patterns of black and white tiles all over the floors, once which they almost missed noticing, Vilkas picked a stone near his feet, weighed the heavy thing in his hand, and hurled it on one of the black-tinted tiles.

As he expected, flames roared forth from the ground. They took a step back and watched the stream of fire until it passed, leaving a singing trail of black around some of the tiles, near the walls, and on the low ceiling.

“I saw something like this before, haven’t we Aela?”

The huntress nodded, “The old fire trap trick.”

Valen stared at the platform for a while, and gestured at it with a wave of her hand, “’I know what would be a great idea.’” She said, adopting her horribly accented male voice from earlier, “’Flame puzzle traps!'"

“I’m guessing we need to step on the light-colored tiles again?” Aela took a single step onwards, resting her foot on a lighter looking tile. She, including the others, relaxed when nothing happened, “All right. Easy enough.”

“Yeah. I’m not too keen on being Dunmer kebab, thank you very much.” Athis said.

“Why don’t you all go first and I’ll just follow?” Valen grinned wide, “Birthday girls go last, right?” Especially if they wanted her to have another birthday celebration next year.

“You’ll be fine.” Njada pushed her forward, causing the bard to trip over her feet and almost land on one of the black tiles. She huffed when she managed to balance herself by stepping on a white tile instead of a black one. A narrow miss on her part.

“Just follow Aela’s lead.” Njada whispered, “Divines know you watch her enough.”

Red-faced, Valen elbowed the other woman and glared at her. She was glad Aela was too busy walking through the dangerous passageway, evading the tiles, with Vilkas taking point and Athis following after her. The bard swore she’d rip that helmet off the damned woman’s head if the huntress had heard that.

“Njada,” Valen growled, “Do you have any idea what-”

The bard stopped mid-rant. She tilted her head up and perked her ears. Njada’s face fell as she noticed this, and like Valen, the warrior woman looked around, unsheathing her sword just in case something came.

“What?” she asked.

“Can you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

The three who managed to cross the fire trap also looked about the ceilings, weary when they started to sense something as well. Soon enough, Vilkas noticed there were large indentations aligned in the walls, covered in thick cobwebs. The sound of high-pitched chattering began to grow loud enough to fill the room, and soon enough, a long spider-leg broke through one of the cobwebs from within the stone walls. The leg was soon followed by the huge body of a frostbite spider, its hundred eyes leering at its prey. Mandibles twitching with venom spewing forth.

“SPIDERS.”

Without a thought, Valen jumped off the platform and ran through the passage, a trail of fire searing the back of her heels. The roar of flames caught the rest of the warriors off guard, and scared some of the spiders away. Aela thought she saw a lock of the bard’s hair on fire, but the huntress, amused as she was, decided to focus on the task at hand.

“GET AWAY FROM ME.” Valen was not faring any better, on the other hand, and the bard managed to escape the fire trap, just to leave her fellow shield-sisters and brothers to their battle with the dreaded spiders.

“Valen,” Vilkas swung his sword and managed to cut one of the giant spiders’ legs off, before bashing its head with his shield, “Come back here you coward!”

“GIANT SPIDER!” the bard’s voice echoed from inside the next room, “GIANT. SPIDER.” 

[valenthebard]

Valen Ask Memes - I'll be your interdimensional mailman

Aright then mates, since a certain someone (I'm lookin at you wolfie xD) really, really liked how I did the first Valen ask meme, I think I should make it official an stuff.

Basically, when you send your asks, it'll come out as a letter sent directly to The Companions' Harbinger. Basically, I'll be your interdimensional mailman.

Hell, I might even attach a story in it, who knows.

That said, I think it must also be mentioned that this method might change, since it's all new for now and I'm not too sure how it'll go.

But eh, no need to get too worried 'bout that. I don't mind rollin with it :D it's all cool.

On another note, well, what do you guys think? xD If there's any other suggestions out there, I'm open for it! 

[valenthebard]

Ask Valen #1

wolfie1991: Hey there Valen, I kinda didn’t see the ask box on your blog so I’mma sendin’ fan mail instead.  So my question is do you wanna have kids some day? 

It wasn't odd she would get letters from fans or supporters, being the Harbinger of the Companions and the Dragonborn to boot. So it wasn't a surprise to her when Vilkas wordlessly plopped a ragged looking envelope - closed with a wax seal - on her breakfast plate before she could fill it with bread and meats.

Being Harbinger unfortunately didn't make her fit enough to welcome mornings with open arms, however. She blinked at the letter, her eyes still heavy from sleep, and took the simple package carefully in her hands. Turning it over, Valen stared at it as if it was the answer to all of life. And probably the answer as to why she and Torvar woke up wearing chicken feathers and snuggling with pigs in the middle of a farm field. 

"Whos' it from?" she asked.

Vilkas merely shrugged and went back to his meal, none worse for wear. He grunted, taking a bite out of his bread. He had some urgent missive to get back to today, and Valen felt as if he blamed her for all the extra work he had to do.

The Harbinger grinned, which Vilkas ignored. 

Ripping the wax seal in her hand, she opened the letter and began to press all the lined creases. 

"Fan mail!" she said, smiling brightly in the morning for once.

"What can I say? People love our darling little Harbinger." Njada said, the monotone lilt in her voice, indicating she believed nothing from her own words, "Is it another marriage proposal, o magnificent Harbinger?"

"Last time I remember," Valen smirked, opening up the letter in full view for herself, "The one who got the marriage proposal was you."

"Shaddup."

"Farkas gets the most fan mail, I must say." Ria said, "Him and Vilkas."

Vilkas' face flushed red. Flustered, he almost squashed his bread flat in his own hand, "We do not get fan mail."

Their antics stopped once they heard a choke from the head of the table. 

Valen was slouching over her seat, the letter hiding her face. Despite this, they could see the tips of her ears flush red.

"Well?" Aela asked, "Don't tell me it's another 'mission' to help some jealous noble burn down rival houses with your fire breath-"

"Shout." Valen said from behind the letter, her voice a meek murmur that - if it were not for Aela's hearing - the huntress would not have heard.

"Or a letter asking you to 'sweep them off their feet', or some such nonsense." the huntress said, looking away and glaring at the potato on her plate. 

Valen cleared her throat and stuffed the letter in the crude space inside her chest plate, "It's, um, nothing." she said, "I'll be in my office."

She had a letter to respond to.

~~

The letter came from a werewolf enthusiast, at least that's what she supposed from the sender's name. But the sender seemed kind enough that Valen was tempted to answer. 

Even so, Valen did her best to respond to any mail coming from any supporter her way. It would be rude to ignore them otherwise, especially since she found out how many people looked up to their Dragonborn. No matter how awkward and silly it sounded, Valen was thankful for all of them.

Do you want to have kids one day?

She sat down on her office desk, looking around to make sure the door was closed, and no one was standing in the corner with their too quiet feet and look of disdain with hands crossed in front of her chest. Valen sighed in relief when she found, and heard, no one else nearby her vicinity.

Taking a quill in her hand, she looked up at the ceiling and hummed. Shrugging, Valen began to scratch at a blank piece of paper with her quill:

Hello there, dear Companions supporter,

Leaning her head back, Valen read the sentence she had written under her breath, and nodded when it passed her letter-writing standards.

Very kind of you to send me this letter, we very much appreciate your constant support on our faction. 

Regarding your question - well...

Valen's quill withered in her hand. Was she interested in having children someday?

Perhaps I might want to have children with a special someone someday. Who knows? But to be honest, the prospect of raising a family right now seems far away, a destiny which I may never cross, considering my circumstances.

For one, being the Harbinger of the Companions, and a Dragonborn, might not be an ideal occupation for any parent, unless they don't mind having their child growing up with someone else. One thing I do not want to do is to abandon any of my kids. If I do have children someday, it'll be during a time when I'm sure I will live to see many days where I will watch them grow up.

For now, however, The Companions remain to be my 'children'. As strange as it sounds, seeing as I'm the second youngest of them all, the great Harbinger, Kodlak Whitemane - rest his spirit - gave me the responsibility to care for them. So I guess they're as close to me to being my own children than any other at the moment...?

Valen jumped when she heard a knock from her office door. Glad she managed to suppress a very un-Harbinger-like yelp, she leaned over her letter, hiding it with half her body. The Harbinger cleared her throat, and said:

"Come in."

Aela pushed her sturdy wooden door open, peeking inside with eyes almost glowing behind the dimness of the hall behind her. 

"Are you all right?" she asked, "You ran out of there as if your pants was full of skeevers."

It took a while for her question to process in Valen's mind. Blinking, she stood up from her chair and scratched the back of her head, grinning at the huntress sheepishly. 

"Yeah, it's fine." she said, trying her hardest to not stutter and fidget, "It's one of those nice letters. Personal, but nice." 

"I see." Aela nodded, crossing her hands in front of her chest and fixing Valen with an 'I know you better than that' look. It was an all too familiar look, and Valen hated that look. It meant Aela knew her better to see when she was lying or-

"I promise." the Harbinger said, taking a cautious step forward in case Aela felt like playing 'steal the Harbinger's very important personal papers for herself because she's a wily little-'

She leaned left when Aela tried to look over the side of her shoulder, hiding her letter from the huntress' view.

"Why are you so defensive about it?" the older woman feinted right and tried to sidetrack Valen, but she managed to anticipate Aela from breaching her defenses. She knew her tricks all too well.

"Is that what you call this?" Valen took another step forward, dancing about sideways whenever Aela tried another attempt to sidestep her block, "No, I'm just stretching my legs, that's all. Early morning exercise."

"Valen."

Enjoying each other's mischief, it took them a while to realize they had both ended up being closer than intended, with Valen looming over the huntress' red head. This close and she could see every detail on Aela's face, a face which she memorized during long hunting trips out in the open fields, and personal talks out in the yard.

Valen felt blood rise to her cheeks when their eyes met. She thought she saw Aela's throat swallow, but the huntress didn't move away until Valen tore her eyes from gazing at the older woman, looking much like a child granted a special honey nut treat before dinner time. 

The way Aela looked back at her unnerved Valen. Though it was best not to hope. 

"The letter just asked me if I wanted to have kids someday." Valen said, taking one slow step back. And another. And another.

"Right," Aela nodded, looking away herself. Her arms seemed to hug herself tighter, but that could have been just Valen's imagination, "So, what do you think? What did you say?"

Valen grinned, bumping against her chair and making it screech on the floor when she walked a bit too far back than she thought. 

"I said... well..."

"Well?"

"I said... yeah." 

"Oh." Aela looked down at her feet, before returning Valen's grin with one of her own. A rare, warm one, this time. One that Valen thought the huntress reserved only for her. The Harbinger pressed a hand under her ribcage, feeling a swell of butterflies flutter, "Well then, you'll have to find a lovely girl to have them with, don't you?"

"I guess so." she replied, "I mean, it's crazy. Being a parent to some kid and raising them and. You know, stuff."

Aela raised an eyebrow, her expression turning into something mixed between teasing and amused, "Stuff?"

Not knowing what else to say, Valen squeezed the back of her chair with a hand, her smile wavering, "Yeah, stuff." she said, "So I guess I do want to have kids someday, despite everything, huh? Who would've thought."

The huntress chuckled and reached for the door behind her, opening it with a small creak, "You'll be a great mother someday, Valen."

"I'll be horrible, admit it."

"Oh you will be," Aela said, allowing half her body to go through the door, "Which is why you'll be amazing. Children get along better with other children, after all."

"Ha ha. Funny."

Hearing the door close behind her, Valen sat back in her chair, a wide smile stuck on her face. She stared at her letter unseeingly for a while, taking the quill between her fingers and twirling it in thought. Her smile never leaving.

After another moment of thinking, Valen armed her quill again and began to write again:

But, now that I think about it, I learned how to be a better 'parent' from The Companions themselves, so they won't ever be an exact alternative to raising actual children - from babies to adults.

Maybe, dear supporter. Maybe someday I'll have my own children. Maybe someday destiny will grant me this gift after all, damn my worries.

Taking a moment to read what she's written, Valen chanced a look back at the door from where the huntress had disappeared from. Biting the inside of her cheek, she felt a little burst of daring blossom inside her, and she added into the letter:

One thing is for sure, though. I won't have children unless it's with the right woman. So I will continue to hope, I guess. I'll keep hoping and will wait patiently. Even if our fates don't cross in the end, and my death holds nothing but loneliness, I will wait for her.

I guess you could say I'm a bit of a hopeless romantic that way. Well, surprise! I'm a bard. Hopelessness is an occupational hazard for us bard types, after all. 

Thank you for sending this letter, dear supporter. 

Continue fighting the good fight, my friend.

Sincerely, 

Harbinger Valen, Dragonborn, Bard

---

Edited: 11Jul'13

Edited: 13Jul'13 (that teaches me not to revise this during work :/)

[valenthebard]

So you're free to send Valen some Asks through this blog's inbox if you'd like...

... suggested to me by the awesome wolfie1991! :D I figured, well, why not? It might end up being a random drabble in the end, who knows.

This request was made a long time ago, and I apologize for only acting on this today because, hellion, I forgot all about it because I fail at life!

well... not surprised. This mustached fellow is a dorkface after all. I will allow you all to smack me with a glove or a golf club, but please have mercy: not the face.

[valenthebard]

O Lovely Ladies of Jorrvaskr

Title: O Lovely Ladies of Jorrvaskr

Rating: PG

Characters: Vilkas, Farkas

Prompt: *sees a picture of Vilkas, Farkas, and Ulfric wearing flower wreaths* me: this makes me want to write a one shot fanfic; merte: DO IT; me: ok

~

The new inn keeper girls were quite peculiar.

Olgun wasn’t complaining, of course. Faida and Julienne needed a break once in a while, since tending an inn only seemed as easier as it looked, but these two new girls who were looking after the place for now seemed a little… off.

Mostly in the way that they hid their faces behind thick veils, were a bit hairy around the ears, and one of them seemed to have acquired a horrible sore throat.

“One room, please.” He mumbled, turning his eyes down at the table when the girl – giant of a woman she was – named Helga looked at him with her all too intense gaze, “A-any room will do fine, thank you.”

Petra - the lovelier girl who wore a bright green frock - nodded before asking him: “How goes your travels, sir?” she stiffly placed her broom against the wall, as she started to lead him to his room, “Found any werewolves around the area, did you?”

“No, not at all.” He shook his head. Olgun reached for his heavy bags, and blinked when Petra took and carried them all herself with ease. He felt his face heat up, and he rubbed his cheeks with a cold hand.

"That’s good.” it was odd how she didn’t sound too happy about that, “Otherwise, just keep inside your room, please.”

“They need to eat, don’t they?” Helga asked, arranging the flower wreath on her lovely hair bun. Just doing so forced her to awkwardly stick her chest out with a small grunt, the seams around the woman’s admittedly very large bicep ripping apart, some of its threads beginning to stick out. Helga immediately let her arm fall to her side with a small huff.

Olgun realized he was staring and turned away, eyes wide as dinner plates. Whoever these ladies were, they must have been some lord’s guards or something. Very peculiar.

“Oh, yes.” Came Petra’s cracking falsetto, “We cooked something. What did we cook, Fa- Helga?”

The large woman behind the counter shrugged, “Fish?”

“Fish sounds good.” Olgun said, gripping the door knob of his room, all too keen on getting his privacy despite these lovely… ladies.

“Very well, don’t let us keep you.” Petra said, “Thank you for choosing Four Shields Tavern. Have a nice day.”

“You too.” Olgun grinned, closing the door in front of him. He stared at the wooden door for a while, noting the splinters and counting the knots on the wood. He sighed. Well, there was no use pondering on it now. He turned towards his bed and began to unpack for the night.

~~

“Do you think he suspected us?” Vilkas asked, tugging his corset up so his ‘cleavage’ won’t show, “And can’t you try to sound a bit more like a lass, Farkas?”

“Sorry.” Said his younger twin brother, who was in the same situation as him. Although admittedly, Vilkas thought he should have brought a larger dress. It almost seemed as if the poor silk attire was about to burst whenever Farkas tried to move about, and Vilkas was getting tired of doing all the moving around so far. On the other hand, he was enjoying how billowy the dress felt.

“We need to find this man as soon as we can.” Vilkas grumbled, “I can’t wait to get back home.”

“I’ve kept my ears on the ground and nose in the air, brother.” Farkas said. He took a feather duster and began to dust the desk in front of him mindlessly. Vilkas figured that was the only thing he could do without suffering any wardrobe malfunction, “Nothing yet.”

“We’ll have to wait, then.” Vilkas said. He growled under his breath when the wreath of flowers fell over his eyes, “Do you think these flowers are overkill?”

“No.” Farkas said after a minute of considering Vilkas’ question. He didn’t want to admit it, but he thought the flowers looked pretty.

The large man looked down at himself, his forehead knotted, “Does this dress make me look fat?”

“… no.”

“Okay.”