To Protect the Dragonborn

A Scared Little Rabbit

Farkas was a big, hulking brute of a Nord man. He was even a little bulkier than his twin brother, Vilkas; a fact that he secretly prided himself on.

He was also a werewolf, but he was much less proud of that. Beast blood had its advantages, like heightened senses and strength, but it also meant Farkas had to be careful to always keep the wolf spirit and all of its instincts under constant control. It was a secret to everyone, except the other werewolves in the Companions' inner Circle.

Along with the curse of beast blood, Farkas and his brother shared the same dark brown hair and light blue eyes. At a glance they could be nearly indistinguishable— especially when they smeared their dark warpaint around their eyes, but on top of being slightly bulkier, Farkas tended to look slightly sloppier. He just never had the attention to keep his hair cut as short or his beard shaved as cleanly as Vilkas usually did.

Farkas had an easier time controlling his beast blood than Vilkas tended to, but Farkas thought Vilkas outshined him in just about every other way. Vilkas was smarter and more well spoken, he was quick and agile in his heavy steel armor, and he excelled in using his great sword, and most other two-handed weapons. It all came naturally to Vilkas, while Farkas had to work and train hard to keep up. The extra training was likely how Farkas had ended up being bigger than his brother, so at least he didn't mind that.

The other things that came naturally to Farkas were less honorable, less impressive, and less useful in his mind. When he took his heavy armor off, he could sneak through the halls of Jorrvaskr, quietly enough to get by even the enhanced hearing of the other werewolves... he could even get things into and out of others' pockets without them being any the wiser... usually.
Not that he would ever steal anything... nothing major at least... that would be dishonorable, but he did enjoy playing a good prank from time to time... and occasionally nicking some extra food.

Vilkas was the only one who'd ever figured out that it was Farkas pulling the pranks, and even though Vilkas frequently got rather angry when he was the target of the pranks, he never betrayed his brother's secret.

Farkas was also shockingly good at metal working when he cared to take the time to work on his weapons or his armor. Eorland frequently told him he'd make a great smith and could even work the skyforge if he'd ever have enough patience to actually do it. Farkas thought he might do that if he ever got too old to swing a sword.

But the things that came naturally to Farkas weren't what he enjoyed most anyway. That was why, he was a Companion, and not a thief or a blacksmith. Swinging his great sword didn't come as naturally to him as it did to Vilkas, but it was still his favorite thing. The adrenaline of a good fight, the glory of proving himself in battle, the honor of fighting alongside and protecting his shield-siblings... that was his favorite thing.

So when his shield-sister, Aela, asked him to come help her and Ria deal with a giant just outside Whiterun, he was the first one armored up and out the door...

The fight was going well by Farkas's standards; the giant was a formidable opponent, but the Companions would wear him down.

...It just might take a while...

Aela and Ria were helping... the girls were doing a great job really, but the giant's focus was all on Farkas. As the big one in heavy armor, that was his job: keep the enemy's attention so his comrades could stay safe and wear down their huge opponent.

The fight dragged on, Farkas could see the giant was getting tired, it's attacks were getting sloppier. Farkas was still going strong, but he was getting concerned about his shield-sisters.

Then suddenly the giant faltered as an iron arrow lodged into its eye. It was all the distraction Farkas needed to dart in, slash one of the tendons in the giant's leg, and then deliver the killing blow: slashing its throat, as it fell.