So this is my first post. I have already written quite a bit of the story already. It technically isn't a backstory but more of a fan fiction. I hope you enjoy.
The morning is young. No birds are singing, they are fleeing from the clearing behind Pinewoods Cottage. The clashing and clanging is ringing loud and far into the forest. The two young combatants pit each other out until exhaustion. Neither of them would admit it though.
The Breton charged at his female adversary, steel sword raised for an over hand chop. The young girl lifted her Akavirii blade horizontally above her head, parrying the blade and creating sparks in the chill morning air. She twisted her sword with her wrist and moved her arm so the two blades were down pointing. The boy charged a firebolt in his left hand and had a perfect aim for her stomach. She had her iron shield raised just in time. They jumped back from each other and had their swords pointed at each other, they circled cautiously.
“We said no magic Tarthas. You’ll never become a hero like your esteemed Champion of Cyrodiil if you fight this lame.”
“When I am such a hero it won’t matter what I bring into battle so get used to it, Keri-Anne.”
“I wasn’t talking about magic, dimwit, I was talking about your fighting prowess. Now are you ready to re-engage or are we going to circle each other until noon?”
The two Breton spellswords flung at each other again, blades close and clashing. Keri-Anne winked and giggled. Stepped back as agile as a khajiit, making Tarthas lose his balance and fall to his knee.
He looked up to see a blade pointed between his eyes. He followed the blade up her arm and into her eyes. She stood there loftily, quite bemused. “I win. Stendarr have mercy on you, you’ll be no good in a real fight. And you want to join the Companions? Tell you what, you can be my shield brother.”
“That’s no fair. Come on, mum and dad have probably woken up from our sword fighting. You fought well, Kyne’s swiftness was in your swings.”
“Stop that, suck up. I’m starving. Let’s get ourselves some salmon on bread.” She sheathed her Akavirii sword and lead Tarthas inside pinewoods cottage.
Keri-Anne’s father was one of the blades and this is where she had gotten her Akavirii sword, strangely enough it wasn’t curved like most of their blades, it was straight and slightly shorter, only by two inches, making it good for closer combat, sword and spell or sword and shield.
Keri and Tarthas had been friends since they were little children. Keri was an orphan from a Blades father who died in a battle against a dragon and a mother who had been killed in Ulfric Stormcloak’s campaign for freedom from the empire.
Vyctorya Gardner and Marcurio were happy to adopt little Keri-Anne who was only five years old at the time. Tarthas, their son was merely three. They took lessons in swordsmanship from a stormcloak officer who had retired from the war in Falkreath City at the age of 12. Their parents taught them magic.
Tarthas smelled the warm kitchen cooking smells heartily. It was a small cottage but very cosy and very welcoming. It was a place he could always call home. His mother was in the kitchen cooking up breakfast. His father was reading the letters that the morning courier had brought.
Tarthas and Keri had seen the courier but took him little heed in between their blows. The poor Nord was quite unnerved seeing them hacking at each other faster than he could recite a letter.
“What are you reading, father?” Tarthas asked him.
“Nothing much that concerns you. I have business you know. This little alchemy business that your mother runs brings in big money.” Marcurio muttered. It was true; even though they lived in a tiny little cottage in the middle of the woods they had enough money to live in the Blue Palace with all the Jarls and nobles. That is all because of Vyctorya’s knack for potion crafting and high demand for her high quality potions, ointments, and aromas.
“Good morning, my young warriors!” Vyctorya smiled. It was heart warming, filled with kindness and care, like a mother’s smile should be, thought Tarthas. “How did your practicing go? You woke us up once again.” She teased.
“Tarthas still can’t defeat me in sword to sword, he always has to regress to spellcraft. He won’t ever make it into the Companions.” Keri waffled while munching on a sweetroll.
Tarthas puffed up again, falling for the bait “I will make it into the companions! You’ll see: I will be greater than you! Greater than the Dragonborn!”
“You?” Keri teetered into a fit of laughter “Greater than the dragonborn? You’re nothing but a Breton! He’s dragonborn, dragon blood flows through his veins!” She started daydreaming “His voice is like the mountains frozen tears, mightier than a sabrecat and as powerful as a dragons roar. His breath can obliterate dragons! You can’t even beat a girl with a steel sword.”
Tarthas raised his fist and was about to punch Keri in the face before Vyctorya stopped his arm with telekinesis and brought it back to his side.
“Hush now both of you, this bickering brings you no where, go and have your bath, Keri. And Tarthas,”
“Yes mum?” Tarthas sulked.
“Happy Birthday! Dad and me have some presents for you. Come see.”
Tarthas cheered in rejoice and went to his parents’ bedroom wondering where the gifts were.
Sure enough in the magical chest lay a unique sword and a unique bow. The bow was wooden and carved in elven style; the eagles on the recurve of the bow were coated in iron. The sword looked haggard and yet brand new. As if it was made to look old. It was long, straight and the point curved, not enough to be blunt though. Above the cross guard was a tag of metal with cuneiform dragon letters on it.
His dad came into the room and remarked on the two gifts given to him.
“That’s a bow and sword forged by Eorlund Gray-Mane, the bow may look wooden and elven but it shoots farther and more powerfully than one. That sword is on of the finest he’s made he says, it may look like a hand me down but he finished forging it yesterday. He called it the Loner’s Sword because it was alone in its make. He made them on our request and as an invitation to join the companions. They will train you, the Harbinger Skjor is happy to train you personally. He expects you in Whiterun tomorrow.”
Tarthas was overjoyed, he strapped the sword to his belt and left Pinewoods Cottage with many hugs and kisses from his mum. He was about to leave when he heard Keri-Anne shouting behind him.
“Oi! You son of a skeever! I’m just washing my hair and you decide to go off on an adventure to join the Companions. I am not letting a foster brother of mine join the Companions before I do! It’s unacceptable we are joining together!”
Everyone laughed and the two left for Whiterun at noon. With high hopes on their shoulders and Kyne’s winds pushing them forth.
I hope you enjoyed, comments would be appreciated.
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