Let me tell you about a elf. The greatest Bosmer elf I ever had the pleasure of slaying dragons, fighting the bad (and sometimes good) guys, finding (and stealing) treasure, and travelling the land with.
At first I didn’t care much for Faendal, he was rather peculiar looking and pining for Camilla, his loyalty for me was tied to her. I couldn’t help but feel as though he felt obligated to join me on my quest. So after a few adventures I parted ways with him. He’d be in Riverwood if I needed him he told me, but I didn’t need him, or so I thought. As I slowly trailed beside him on the dirt road I heard him utter some affectionate phrase about Camilla and I felt something odd twist in my gut. Denial, jealously, loyalty? Back to Riverwood you go Faendal, back to Camilla.
Lydia, Jenassa, Marcurio, Aela, Kharjo, Mjoll, and Aranea, I’ve had them all as followers. They left no impacting memories and accomplished no daring feats for me to tell about. They followed all the lines and did exactly as they were told. Jenassa was brave and fearless but in the end I slayed her at the shrine of Boethiah and my soul shall be forever marred for it. Let’s not forget the memories I made with dear Marcurio. In a fit of frustration, and shortly after Faendal left, I married Marcurio. Now he annoys me with his pet names. My hand twitches when I enter my house and I hear him say, “Hello, my love. Back from some adventure I bet.” I think to the time when I first met Marcurio in the Bee and Barb. He was feisty and seemed slightly offended when I asked him to carry a few things for me. What happened to that guy? Now my fingers itch to strike my blade against him until he falls, but I don’t. All of the adventures I had with these loyal followers were nothing like what I experienced with my dark horse Faendal.
We were walking somewhere, losing ourselves on a mountainside in the blurry snow when I was ambushed by polar bears and trolls. I was about to die, there were three of these beasts attacking me and a orc pretending to be a Imperial. I fought with all I had, until there was only one polar bear left. I had no potions, no food, and no time to stop and heal myself. That bear had his paw up, sharp claws aimed at me… I hadn’t saved in a hour. A hour!!! I needed to dodge this hit, if I didn’t I’d definitely die. As I’m about to move, I see that heavy white clawed paw coming down in slow-mo about to erase everything I’ve accomplished, then a arrow whizzes past my head and the beast falls down dead in a hard lump at my feet. I turn around and there is Faendal standing on some rocks looking very majestic.
He saved my life.
That was not the only time either, he continued to do demonstrate his heroic prowess with last minute saves from hidden places and low mountain tops. I knew then no matter what I would never part ways with him.
If Faendal dies, I restart. If he decides to disobey my command of ‘wait here’, (which he often does, even running through swinging axes to come to my aid) I grumble and try to exit the cave (or building), or fast travel out of there before it’s too late. If someone tries to do him harm I jump in front of him and act as a shield. If Faendal foolishy decides it’s okay to fight a dragon on a dangerous half demolished looking brick bridge and his foot slips, I slip with him right off the edge into a endless snowy white abyss.
Faendal. Give him all my staffs he turns into a badass Gandalf. The Gandalf of Skyrim. Hand him a one handed sword and people lose their heads, give him a axe and bodies are decimated, if there is a warhammer in his clutches bones turn to dust.
This is my tale of the greatest follower I have ever had. Faendal the Bosmer. I have retold it to so much so that my friends and family can repeat it with me. By the end of one of my hundredth retellings one of my friends turns to me and says, “All followers do that.”
Maybe. Not like Faendal they don’t.
Faendal and I, we move like one. We look into the sky as I scream, Krii Lun Aus! Our battle cry and what we will make happen to anyone who goes against us.