Disclaimer: this story contains A LOT of Skyrim spoilers. If you haven’t played the game, 1st) WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?! 2nd) Go play it and then come back to read this. You have been warned…
When the adventurers first noticed the Frost Troll, it was walking away from them, towards it’s cave, and this fact made things much easier for both Companions. Gerrard quickly drew his Elven Bow, and Vilkas got his Greatsword ready. The Nord crouched and started to walk slowly, behind the troll’s back but from a safe distance of about six meters, as to get ready for a sneak attack. He pulled an arrow, aimed for the head of the the beast and let it fly. As soon as the arrow hit the troll, he looked for the ones attacking it, and started to run towards the companions in anger, with his three bright red eyes, focusing on the archer that had just injured it.
Vilkas was always ready for combat and ran with his weapon ready, anxious to try to diminish the rage he was feeling by killing a wild beast. And so, the troll and Vilkas, a beast and a Companion were running towards one another, set to meet in the middle of a snowy plain for fearsome combat. But before the greatsword master could have a taste of troll blood, two projectiles passed flying by on each side of Vilkas’ head. The split second spent looking around to discover what was the source of these noises was more than enough time for a third arrow to hit the Troll, right in its’ middle eye.
– You could have at least let me have a swing at this beast, shield brother. You know I am in thirst of a good battle! – Vilkas complained even though he was more angry at himself for allowing the Nord to become so superior on combat than him, an older member of the Companions – I see now that Aela have trained you well in skills of Archery. You might even have surpassed her, our greatest hunter.
– Now brother, sorry if I got carried away on this fight and didn’t leave nothing for you to strike. But we will have all combat we crave once we arrive at Driftshade Refuge, the Silver Hands’ hideout where them cowards hide from us, trying to escape from our revenge…
The training Gerrard received from the huntress Aela, has indeed proved much helpful, specially when facing dragons. An archery expert for the Companions, Aela was the mentor of the Nord’s favorite combat skill. Maybe it was due to their common interest in bows and arrows that they became fond of each other. Nevertheless, she made possible for him to become the best archer in Whiterun, the city where the headquarters of the Companions was located.
It almost seemed like years ago when Gerrard first arrived in Whiterun as a refugee wearing nothing more than scraps and with no weapon better than a rusty dagger. So much has changed from that day, so many people have died and yet the Nord’s will, strong as a weapon forged on the Skyforge, the mightiest blacksmith forge in all country, never breaks, never shatters. As he is walking along his path, writing his destiny, in flames and strong actions that meant more than hollow words, for he is The Nord and Skyrim is his land.
naal ok zin los vahriin
wah dein vokul mahfaeraak ahst vaal! “
by his honor is sworn
To keep evil forever at bay!