This is Our Home: A Collection of Skyrim Short Stories

Young Warriors (Vilkas)

This was a story requested by Liz_Danly, and I very much enjoyed writing this. It was interesting to shift gears and write about a canon character's past, or at least my take on it. Hope you all enjoy!

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7th of Rain's Hand, 4E 188

After waiting so many years, Kodlak finally agreed to let Farkas and me accompany Jergen on a job. The old man had intentionally given Jergen an easier task, so Farkas and I would be safer on the job. Our mission was to exterminate a rampant skeever infestation, on a farm in the western edge of the Pale.

The journey there, Jergen told us everything we would need to know about skeevers, and how to fight them. He told us that they were deadly in packs, and their bites almost always became infected. Farkas and I were sure we would be safe; we were wearing thick leather and steel armor, after all.

It took us two days to reach our destination on foot, and the farm was so remote, it took three hours just to reach it from Dawnstar. It was freezing, too. I wondered how areas of Skyrim could still be this cold when spring had already arrived.

Even though it took us so long to get to the farm, Farkas and I were excited. Our cold joints and sore feet could not deter our eagerness. We were finally going to do it. After all this time, we were about to take our first job.

"I bet I kill more skeevers than you," said Farkas as the three of us hiked through knee-deep snow towards the barn. "I bet you get scared and hide."

Pride stung, I puffed out my chest and scoffed at him. "Please. I'm not scared of anything. You're the one who's scared."

"I am not!"

Before I could counter him, Jergen looked over his shoulder and gave us both a warning glance. "Stop it, you two, or I'll send you back to the farmhouse and take care of these skeevers by myself."

Farkas and I straightened up after that.

As we got closer to the barn, Jergen reached over his shoulders and unsheathed his greatsword. Farkas and I took that as our cue to pull out our swords, too. My hand tightened around the hilt, a nervous shiver streaking down my back.

"When I open this door," said Jergen as we stood outside the barn, "be ready to fight. Skeevers don't like light, and they don't like having their nests disturbed. Remember to watch each other's back and don't get bitten."

We nodded.

With a heave and a grunt, Jergen pulled the door open and rushed inside. After just a second's hesitation, Farkas and I followed.

I had never seen a real skeever before; I had only ever seen pictures in books. Those pictures did not do the animals justice. I almost froze when I saw them. They scrabbled around on short legs, needle-like teeth bared in snarls. Salvia dripped from their mouths, their bald tails lashed back and forth, and they made the most gods-awful sounds I had ever heard.

But I was not a coward. I gripped my sword's hilt in both hands and charged straight into the fray. I slashed the snout off of one skeever, then ran another through on the same movement. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Farkas doing something similar to another pack of beasts.