Crouching low, Eragon peered around the corner of a massive dwarven building, making sure to keep his movements silent. He had weaved spells about him, so that the quarry he hunted would be unable to detect him. Around him, he saw various members of both the dwarves and Varden give him strange looks, but Eragon paid them no mind. Seeing that his path was clear, he moved around the building, shoulder brushing the stone wall. The street alley was clear, mostly, and Eragon's quick steps brought him down to the next intersection.
Pausing, Eragon kept his breathing slight, listening intently. Quirking his head, he made out someone speaking softly in the ancient language in the street, so Eragon quickly poked his head around. Standing before him were two of the elves, Arya and Glenwing, their conversation quick. Eragon looked passed them, spotting his prey. Saphira stood at the end of the massive road, her great head sweeping back and forth, nostril's flaring as she sniffed around the various buildings. Most humans and dwarves gave her a wide berth, strange looks passing between them. It seemed they had no idea what to do with the sapphire dragon, but did not make any attempts to get in her way.
He saw Arya spot him, her brow furrowing. Eragon shook his head quickly when she made to speak, holding a finger to her lips. He stepped around the corner lightly, making to pass by the two elves, the confusion evident on their faces.
Glenwing, ignoring his sharp movements opened his mouth, dooming the Rider, "Eragon-elda-."
Eragon's eyes widened, watching as Saphira's head turned sharply at the sound of his name. Shit thought Eragon. He quickly sprung past the elves, returning down the street he came from. He weaved a spell of invisibility around himself, and he heard Saphira let out a great bellow before giving chase.
He turned down a few more streets, eyes glancing about him as he searched for a place to hide. He could hear Saphira gaining on him, surprisingly quick in the narrow street ways. Men and dwarves shout out, jumping out of the way of the charging dragon. Eragon spotted an alcove, hidden to the side of a street vendor, the doorway casted in a deep shadow.
Sliding to a stop inside the doorway, Eragon held his breath, watching as Saphira made her way down the street, slowing her gait down. She knew he would be hiding, and Eragon forced his muscles to remain still, his heart pounding in his chest. Luckily, he had weaved many different spells, stopping the sounds of his body from escaping into the air, as well as halting his scent. The only way she would be able to find him was if he moved, even the spell bending light around him weaved so finely.
He watched as her head sniffed the ground, her eyes roaming over the street in front of her. He knew that if it weren't for the fact that they were still in the city she would have growled, frustrated at his escape. She made her way past him slowly, and Eragon could feel the strain of breath in his lungs, longing to be released. It wasn't until she was down at the next intersection, her body snaking down the street to his right did Eragon finally release his breath.
In front of him, he saw Arya and Glenwing staring at his hiding spot, no doubt having heard his release of breath. They still couldn't see him, his enchantments too tightly bound, but he saw their eyes jumping around, trying to find out what had made the sound. Eragon stepped out lightly, releasing the spell, his form once more visible in the daylight.
Arya made to open her mouth, no doubt to ask what he was doing, but Eragon grinned at her, shaking his head. Quickly turning, Eragon followed Saphira down the street, his steps light. He could hear the elves behind him, and he waved his hand at them bidding them to stay. They did not, however, their steps audible above his own. Frustration welled up quickly in Eragon, but he let it pass. Arriving at the intersection, Eragon once more crouched down, peering around the corner. He didn't see Saphira down the street, and he let out a sigh.
Eragon stood, turning to the elves. He was quiet for a moment, before letting out a soft, "Damn it."
The elves quirked their head at him. His eyes met Arya's, and the second he saw them widen he knew he was done for. A great forced slammed into him, driving him into the street. The stone floor dug into his exposed flesh, and the weight drove the breath from his lungs. He heard a growl above him, Saphira's foreleg pinning him down. She lowered her head, lips rising as the sound left her maw.
Saphira paused her movements next to his head, sniffing at his hair lightly. He was pinned facedown, and he felt her claws tighten briefly against his body. Got you!
Eragon wheezed below her, unable to speak. He heard Arya step forward, "Bjartskular," she began, before her words died out. Pinned as he was he couldn't see her face, but Eragon was sure it was marred with confusion.
What is the count now, little-one? Saphira asked, ignoring the elf.
He tried to speak, but he was unable to draw in the air for the words. Reaching up behind him, his hands found her scaly foreleg, patting it gently to let her know he conceded. She released him, and Eragon drew in a large breath, coughing as the air finally filled his lungs. He felt her snout nudge him lightly, and Eragon stood, rubbing his chest with a fist.
"I think," Eragon said, his words finally able to form, "That makes it nine to eight, now."
Saphira hummed, obviously pleased with her score.
"I didn't hear you at all, Saphira," Eragon said, "how did you manage that? The street was clear just moments ago."
Her great sapphire eyes peered at him, and he saw a toothy smile grace her lips, Even I have my ways, Eragon, and this I think I will keep to myself.
Eragon laughed lightly, patting the side of her neck. He turned to the elves, watching as their eyes jumped between Rider and dragon. Glenwing bowed, but Arya remained still, her eyes furrowed. It took her a moment before she realized she was staring before she placed her fingers to her lips, the elves greeting flowing out in her entrancing voice.
Eragon responded, and Glenwing followed Arya's lead. Once the greetings were done, Saphira included, did Arya finally ask, "What, Eragon-elda, where you two doing?"
Eragon laughed, as did Saphira, her great rumbling felt through the stone floor. "Ah," Eragon explained, "an old game of ours. A bit like the child's game of hiding and seeking."
Glenwing's smile remained, calm and collected as ever. A frown however, passed over Arya's, "You were playing a children's game?"
Eragon chuckled, embarrassment rising inside him briefly. He felt the tips of his ears burn, and he rubbed the back of his neck. He made to respond but Saphira beat him to it sniffing loudly, we spent many decades alone, emerald-eyes, with no company but our own. We've had to come up with many ways to stave off the boredom somehow.
The elf's eyes glance downward briefly, before Arya met his own again. She said nothing, so Eragon picked up after Saphira, "We also use it train, you see?"
Glenwing spoke finally, his words questioning, "Train? I'm afraid I don't understand, Eragon-elda."
Saphira answered in his stead, Eragon's goal is to retrieve this, she said, lifting her neck to show the elves. There was a leather strap running around her neck, tied loosely, with a small bag dangling from the makeshift necklace. My own is to catch and pin him.
Eragon nodded, "I can use spells and anything I can find, and she can use any means as well. So long as she doesn't just set fire the to the area to force me out."
The dragon snorted, turning her head away, it was only just the one time.
He glared at her for a moment, turning back to the elves. He saw Arya's lips twitch briefly at the dragon's words, before resuming her usual countenance. "It helps me learn how to better my spells and enchantments, as well as to move unnoticed."
The practice helps keep my senses sharp, as well as how to spot those who do not wish to be seen, Saphira added. The elves seemed to accept their explanation, but he saw Arya gaze at him briefly, a strange look crossing her face.
She pushed the matter aside, instead telling them, "We have news, Eragon-elda, Saphira-elda. Ajihad called for us to meet him in near the entrance you first came in."
"Ah," Eragon said, bowing to the elves. He understood the news she had mentioned. No doubt Jeod and the mysterious traveler had finally arrived. "Forgive us, for harrowing your duties. We did not intend offense by ignoring your presence as we did. Thank you for the message."
Arya waved her hand at him, dismissing the matter, "It is of no consequence, Shur'tugal. We still have time before they are set to arrive."
Glenwing turned, beckoning the others to follow. Saphira moved beside the elf, surprising Eragon, and he felt her mind recede gently from his own, conversing with the fair elf. Arya fell in step beside Eragon, their movements graceful as they made their way down the city, towards the exit of Tronjheim. Arya was silent beside him, and Eragon so no reason to be the one to break it. It was quiet for a few moments as they turned down one of the streets leading to the gates, before Arya finally broached the silence, "May I ask you something, Eragon-elda?"
Eragon nodded, adding quickly, "You need not refer to me as such, Arya-vinr. It makes me feel older than I actually am."
The elf nodded, but if she agreed to or not, she didn't say. Instead, she asked, "Saphira said earlier that you spent decades alone." At his nod, she continued, "I could not help but think then that you were not always alone in your time away from Alagaësia, from both this and what you've said previously."
The continued walking down the street, the sounds of the city loud in his ears. People made way for Saphira's massive size, some bowing in reverence to her presence among them. He saw hope shining out, something that he thought might have been missing from their lives for too long. Eragon answered her indirect question after a moment of contemplation, "You are correct. We met many people on our journey. Some who were welcoming of us, and many more who were not."
"One day, perhaps," Arya said, "you could tell me of those you've met. I would like to hear such stories."
"One day," Eragon agreed. "But not today, I fear. My past is what has shaped me as the person who stands here today, but lingering too long on such memories will only serve to cloud our vision of the present."
Arya nodded, and Eragon saw her think over his words before responding, "On that we agree, but to let the past hang behind us too long can let it cast an even bigger shadow, one that slowly darkens the future we look towards, blocking out all the rest, leaving us staring at nothing but the events we tried to hide."
Eragon smiled, and he could hear the wisdom of her words. "You are much wiser than I am, Arya. You no doubt speak the truth, and I thank you for your council. I only meant that there are things I would not discuss, not now, not here."
Arya appeared to grasp his meaning, and the message underlying them, "Of course, Eragon."
They had approached the gates by the time their conversation concluded, and Eragon drew up to stand beside Saphira, Arya following as well. Before them sat a company of soldiers, and amusement flowed through him for a moment. Last time we were on the other side of them, Eragon said to Saphira, his mind shielded from all but her.
How the winds of fate change us all, Saphira remarked.
Standing behind the soldiers were Nasuada, Jörmundur and Ajihad. Fäolin was still missing from the assembled group, but Eragon paid it no mind. The leader of the Varden spotted the group, and motioned them to join him. The soldiers stood in even rows between the two griffin statues, their shields held to the side and their weapons lax in their grip. Though they expected no fight, Eragon could see that a few remained rigid, gazing across the bridge to the tunnel ahead.
Ajihad greeted them as they approached before quickly saying, "They come down the tunnel now. Our scouts say that no one has followed them so far, but once they are safely inside the city I will have a small group sweep the area to ensure their tracks remained covered."
"Good," Eragon said, "and we should make our way quickly inside as well. Though you may trust your people, Ajihad, there are no doubt those who would spread word of their arrival to ears that we wish to remain deaf."
The leader nodded; his gaze locked upon the tunnel. "Wise council indeed."
In the distance Eragon could hear the clopping of hoofs upon stone, the trot of the animals steady as they journeyed closer. Before long two silhouettes appeared, and Eragon knew it would be a moment before the human eyes would be able to see the figures, shrouded in darkness as they were. He saw Arya and Glenwing bring their hands down to the hilt of their swords, but they did not draw them.
Eragon crossed his arms, waiting. Ajihad had spotted the riders, and ordered the soldiers to line up to the side, allowing for the horses to pass by. As the riders emerged from the tunnel did Eragon see one of them stiffen, no doubt surprised by the massive dragon that stood towering over the company waiting for their arrival. Both men wore long cloaks, hoods drawn up to obscure their face.
The silence was tense as they approached, only stopping a few feet in front of Ajihad, who remained separated ahead of the group. He saw the soldiers tense, ready to leap to their leader's defense. Ajihad remained still, and Eragon could not see the man's face, but knew that he would be observing the two men with his stern gaze.
Both men climbed down from their horses, who neighed nosily next to them. They approached Ajihad, hands held away from their side, where Eragon guessed hid their weapons. The man on the left reached up slowly before he drew back his hood, letting the group take in his face. He wore a mournful expression his face, and Eragon noted that he had a long scar running across his scalp, ending at his temple. His gray hair was thin, and his short eyebrows were drawn up, his eyes roaming over the assembled group before locking onto Saphira.
The man next to him reached up, revealing his own face to the group, and Eragon felt his heart pound quickly in his chest. His father stood before Ajihad, older than Eragon could have remembered seeing the man. His hair was mostly grey, still spotted with the brown that made up Eragon's own. Brom's face was weather, but his features were still as sharp as when he was a younger man.
Brom's eyes were wide and watery, his gaze looking past Ajihad, his mouth open as he stared at Saphira. Eragon knew then, that for a moment Brom had thought Saphira his own dragon, long since returned to him. Saphira remained still beside Eragon, her own eyes peering down at the man. He could feel emotion stir inside Saphira, many of them matching his own. Only when Eragon uncrossed his arms did Brom move his gaze away, locking instead on Eragon. He saw his father's face stiffen, as though suddenly struck, but the older man said nothing.
Ajihad moved, drawing the two men's gazes, "Welcome travelers, to the Varden. I know there is much to discuss, but I would see us safely inside first."
Eragon breathed slowly, trying to relax his own tight body. He wanted then to run to his father and explain everything, to make the older man understand what happened. But his own caution, echoed by Ajihad, stayed him. Brom and Jeod nodded, their eyes still glancing at Saphira. Eragon turned and made his way into the city, followed closely by Arya who once again drew up beside him. The soldiers followed, surrounding both Brom and Ajihad, and together they walked down the street, farther into the heart of the mountain.
It took a few minutes for all of the members gathered to finally be seated, though there was hardly enough space around the table, large as it was. Many more people were gathered then before, no doubt eager to welcome Brom back into their fold. Eragon knew most would be dismissed, however, before the true reason for their return made its way into to discussion that was to unfold.
Brom sat in the seat Eragon previously did, and instead Eragon made his way over to stand beside Saphira. He could hardly tear is eyes away from the man, trying as he might to drink in his father's appearance. Saphira was quiet as well, and the steadiness of her breathing helped calm Eragon's mind.
"There is a lot that we must unpack, I know, but first," Ajihad had said, his voice commanded their attention, "I would like to say Welcome back, Brom. Welcome to our home, Jeod."
The men nodded, and his father finally spoke, "I can see much has happened since the last time I was here," his father said, his eyes glancing at Saphira and Eragon, "but thank you, Ajihad."
Brom was quiet for a moment, before he finally asked, "How then, are you alive, Eragon?"
Eragon stiffened, clearing his throat. Brom's eyes were locked into his own, and he saw all the members gather around turn their gaze to him, waiting in the silence for his answer. "Two hundred years ago," Eragon said quietly, "Saphira and I left Alagaësia. We did not know it at the time, but Vrael-elda told no one of our journey. We only have just returned."
Eragon didn't say anything else, but he could see his father's expression tighten. Whatever response he wanted to say Brom held in. Instead, the old man turned his gaze to Saphira, "It has been a long time, Saphira. I am heartened to see you; your beauty having only grown since last we met."
Saphira breathed out, her eyes locked onto his father, I thank you, Brom. I was glad to know that you still lived, but I was heartbroken to learn of what had befallen you.
Brom smiled sadly, the turn of his lips holding a soft bitterness. His expression cleared, before he turned to Ajihad. "The news we have cannot wait, Ajihad."
Ajihad nodded, "Very well. Those besides Jörmundur, the elven ambassador, and Eragon please leave. There will be time enough to fully welcome Brom back into our fold, but for now there remains much to discuss."
None of the gathered men said anything, and if they were disappointed to not be part of the talk none mentioned it. Some only bid Brom welcome, the rest moving swiftly to the exit. Eragon notice for the first time that Fäolin was standing once more behind Arya, Glenwing at his side. Glancing away, Eragon slowly made his way towards the table as the door closed, leaving only those Ajihad mentioned gathered. Even Nasuada had left, but Eragon did not question the Varden leader.
He took the seat across the table from Arya, with his father to his left and Ajihad to his right. Ajihad adjusted himself in his seat, before saying, "Very well, let us begin."
Brom nodded, "As you know, this is Jeod. He is a scholar, one who has been working diligently on the task set before him. His claim is grand, but I believe it has merit."
The gathered group turned towards Jeod, who stood slowly from his seat. The man glanced around the room, taking in all that were gathered, "Yes, well. Long have I searched, but I think I found it. This book," Jeod said, retrieving a thick book from one of his bags, "contains what I believe to be knowledge of a passage, one that would let one journey to the center of Urû'baen, and into the heart of the Black Kings castle."
Ajihad nodded, motioning for the man to pass him the book. Jeod did so, but only after receiving a nod from Brom. "You are certain of this, Jeod? And you Brom?"
Brom nodded, waving a hand towards Jeod, "Jeod knows his work well, Ajihad. If he claims the knowledge in that book is true, then I believe him."
Jeod sat back in his seat, "I have cross referenced the passage in the book multiple times, with various different sources. Some more creditable than others, but I am certain of what I have found."
Ajihad turned to Arya, the question poised on his face, "And what of your people, Arya? Do they know of such a way into the city, that could confirm what knowledge this book holds?"
She was silent for a moment, gaze set upon the book in Ajihad's hand, "If there is any that still remember such among my people, they have not said. Nor will they ever, I think. No, if Brom is confident in Jeod's findings then so am I, and so will the Queen be."
Ajihad nodded, turning his gaze to Eragon, "And what of you, Eragon?"
Eragon's eyes flickered over to his father, but could find nothing in them. "My father's knowledge of such things is greater than my own."
Brom was silent, and Eragon did not add anything else. After a moment Ajihad nodded, turning back to Jeod. "Tell me more of this passage, then, Jeod."
The man nodded, pulling out various scrolls and maps from his book. He spread them across the table, placing one map of Urû'baen above the rest. Point at the castle, Jeod explain, "We know for certain that the egg is held in the treasury, and that there are various spells around it. Brom has come up with a few ideas on how to get around those, but the hardest part will be getting in."
The man traced a finger over the map, drawing a line from one of the various streets to the treasury. "No map I can find contains it, but that book details of paths below the city, deep in the ancient foundations laid by the elves long ago, that they used to move materials quickly in and out of the heart of the castle. Many have collapsed or been sealed, but, hidden in the text, there is one that might yet still remain."
Brom spoke up, "and lucky for us it leads right were we need to. In the Treasury is a statue, one that has been there since the castle was first built. It is there that Jeod says the passage lies, hidden for centuries."
Ajihad, his hand stroking his chin, a habit Eragon noticed he did when he was thinking, said, "Fortunate, indeed. We still need to figure out how to get into the city unseen, but Arya and Eragon have come up with a good selection process to figure out who would carry out such a journey."
Brom's eyes glanced at Eragon, his face still set, "Good. I have no doubt we can come up with a way in, but if you would excuse me, Jeod and I have journeyed long and hard these past few days, and I find myself tired and in need of rest."
The Varden leader nodded his head, standing from his seat, "I understand, old friend. We can speak of this on the morrow. In the interim, I will have some of my men look into how we can get someone into the city unnoticed."
Ajihad dismissed them, striding from the room before anyone else. Jörmundur followed, gesturing for Jeod to come with them as well. Brom stood from his chair, his movements slow, but Eragon remained seated. He watched as Arya made her way over to his father, greeting him first in the way of the elves.
"It is good to see you, Brom Vinr-Alfakyn. The elves have always been grateful for your aid and determination," Arya said, after she finished her greeting.
Brom nodded, bowing to the three elves, "As always, Arya Svit-kona, it is a pleasure to see you. Thank you for your words."
Arya glanced at Eragon, her gaze searching his face quickly before she turned away. The other elves followed her, silent in their retreat. Eragon and Brom remained alone, save Saphira, and the silence drove icing into Eragon's heart. Eragon stood and made his way over to his father, watching as Brom remained still. They watched each other, and Eragon was about to speak when Brom moved forward, crushing Eragon into an unexpected embrace.
Eragon froze, his arms held out to his sides for a moment, before he finally rested them lightly on his father's back. Brom squeezed Eragon tightly, the grip strong, but neither men said anything. They stayed like that for some time, before Brom finally moved away, hold Eragon's shoulders in his hand.
His father had tears in his eyes as he said, "No matter how, I am glad you are alive, my son. For so long I thought-." Brom cut off, his voice trailing.
Eragon swallowed the lump in his throat, his own eyes misty. "We didn't know. We had no idea what happened, no idea what had befallen the Order."
Brom nodded, his gaze far off in the past, "I suspect as much."
Eragon turned his eyes downward, his voice thick in its grief, "We should have been here."
His father waited a few moments before shaking his head. "No," Brom said quietly, "if you were here you would have died like the rest."
Eragon said nothing, and his father removed his hands, "Why did you leave, Eragon?" Brom's words were soft, and Eragon could detect hints amount of an old anger, as well as sadness, that infused its way into it. "Why didn't you tell me that you were leaving?"
Saphira shifted beside him, and she made to answer for him, but Eragon shook her off, "I left after what happened in Belatona. For twenty years we stayed away from the other Riders, doing our duty from a far. We did as Vrael-elda bid us, until Saphira and I decided that it would have been best to leave for a while. I- I didn't tell you," Eragon broke off, emotions welling.
"I didn't tell you," he continued, "because I was scared. Scared of what you would say to me, scared of what you might think. What I did-."
"No," Brom said, "I am not upset, nor am I mad at what you did for that hatchling. I'm not even upset anymore about the fact that you left. Only that you didn't tell me."
Eragon nodded, meeting his father's gaze. He saw the truth of Brom's words, how his actions had costed his father dearly. "I am sorry, father for that. Saphira told me to tell you, but I couldn't. I don't know why."
Saphira nudged him softly, her head gazing at Brom. His father nodded at Eragon, but did not say whether or not he accepted his words. Instead, Brom held up his hand to Saphira and touched her snout, the same as he used to when she was younger. She hummed under her throat, the sound bouncing around the chambers. "You have grown into a beautiful dragon, Saphira. More mighty and fierce than I could have ever imagined you being. I am so very happy that you are alive, and I want to thank you for protecting Eragon as you have done."
Never thanks for that, Brom, Saphira said, pushing gently against his hand, but I thank you instead for your kind words. You have done well, Rider, father to the partner-of-my-heart, to survive all these years. All that you have done since has been in the service of my kin, and for them I thank you.
"I was only doing my duty," Brom said quietly, "Doing only what I knew how. I failed the dragon's before, and I will make sure that I do not fail them again."
Brom stepped back from Saphira, turning once more to Eragon. "We still have much to talk about, my son," he said, reaching down to grab his bag near the table, "but not tonight. I need rest, and we both could use time to reflect on what happened." Eragon nodded at his father and watched him leave, Brom exiting the room with a final glance back at the Rider and dragon.
Eragon and Saphira returned to the Dragonhold, each deep in their own thoughts. The meeting between him and his father had gone better than Eragon had expected it. During his childhood Eragon and Brom were close, even after he became a Rider himself. Their relationship had become strained, mostly due to the distance the Riders put between them, but Eragon had always remembered how fiercely proud his father was of him. He was intelligent and kind, very outspoken and quick to laugh, though also quick to anger.
This new Brom, so far into his grief after the loss of his own Saphira, was different. He had expected his father to be disappointed in him, angry that Eragon had left. But now there was a stillness that wasn't there before in Brom, as though a hole had grown in his father's heart, torn open at the loss of his dragon. Stewing over the thoughts running in his head, Eragon ate his dinner, picking at the vegetables gifted to him by the dwarves.
He nearly missed the loud knocking that came, so deep in his thoughts. Startled, Eragon called for them to enter, nearly forgetting to check his wards.
It was only Glenwing who entered, the elf cautious as he opened the door. Surprised, Eragon motioned the elf to join him, watching as the Glenwing turned to Saphira to greet her first.
He made to greet Eragon as well, but stopped when the Rider waved him aside. The elf said nothing, standing there for a moment before sitting down on one of the two spare chairs the dwarves had finally given him. Eragon did not care too deeply about the furniture, long since accustomed to having none, but their appearance when he returned after the meeting with his father had made him briefly confused before he cast the thought from his head.
"Glenwing," Eragon said, nodding at the elf.
The elf returned the gesture, his face calm but exhuming soft curiosity. "Eragon."
Smiling slightly, Eragon asked, "What, no honorific? Should I take offense?"
Glenwing laughed, the sound pleasant and uplifting. "I mean no offense, Eragon. Merely doing as you bid Arya. She said that you cared not for such things."
"Ah," Eragon responded, "I wouldn't say I didn't care. I understand well enough the elven custom, and I respect it too, but it is certainly strange to be referred to as an elda."
The elf nodded, "I could see how. You left, barely a fully trained Rider, only to return as the only free Rider left, the Old order a distant memory."
Both Eragon and Glenwing ignored speaking Oromis's name, even in as warded as an area as the Dragonhold. The existence of his master was one of the most closely guarded secrets of the elves, ahead even of Arya's own identity.
Eragon said nothing in return to the elf, who continued, "It must have been difficult coming back, learning of what happened a century ago."
His gaze shot up at the elf, trying to determine his intentions. Seeing nothing in his composure save a sense of kindness, Eragon slowly nodded. "It was. The knowledge of what happened shocked Saphira and I. We knew things would be different after so long away, but not like this."
"I could only imagine," Glenwing responded. The elf made to continue, but another knock at the door interrupted him. Eragon's wards told him two dwarves stood outside, and his brow furrowed. "Ah," said the elf, "that's for me."
Confused, Eragon watched as the elf jumped up and opened the door to the dwarves, who Eragon saw were each carry a barrel. Tilting his head at the elf, he watched as Glenwing thanked the dwarves, who left with but a glance at Eragon.
The elf opened the barrel, and the smell of fresh ale wafted over him. Saphira stirred at the smell, her gaze intent on the elf. "Here we are," said Glenwing, taking two cups that Eragon missed and filling them quickly. Setting them aside, the elf opened the other one before lifting it, walking it over to in front of Saphira. "For you, Brightscales,"
Saphira eyed the elf carefully, before leaning down slowly, tongue tasting the ale. Ahh, she said, how I have missed dwarven ale!
She drank deeply, drawing a laugh from Eragon and a startled look from the elf. Glenwing grabbed the cups he filled earlier, holding one out for Eragon as he returned to his seat. He took it gently, thanking the elf.
He watched the elf take a sip of the ale, Glenwing's face briefly tightening.
Curious, Eragon said, "Not a fan of Dwarven ale?" He took a sip himself, the strong flavor washing over him. It had been a long time since he tasted something similar, and the hoppy flavor drew a smile from him. The dwarves certainly knew how to make ale.
The elf shook his head, "I can appreciate the flavor, but the first sip is always the worst."
Eragon chuckled taking another long sip. "Thank you, Glenwing. That was most kind of you."
The elf waved him off before raising the cup to his lips again. Eragon saw that the elf did not flinch, instead taking a long drink of the ale.
"What brings you by, Glenwing? I am glad enough for the company, but I imagine you had a reason to seek me out," Eragon stated, gently setting down his cup.
"The excuse of making friends not good enough?" Glenwing said jokingly, drawing a smile from Eragon. "No reason specifically. I just needed to get away from my companions."
Curiosity won out inside Eragon, and he saw Saphira turn her heard towards him. He ignored the dragon, instead asking, "Oh? And why would that be?"
A part of Eragon feared the elf's answer, but Eragon steeled himself as he long since learned. The elf shrugged gently, "They were arguing again, Arya and Fäolin, and the conversation grew tiresome."
His browed furrowed, Eragon asked, "Do they argue often enough? It seemed that they got along fine before."
The elf shrugged his shoulders, his gaze cast down, "They have. Or did. For the last few decades they never truly argued. Only lately have they started."
Eragon took a sip of ale, before saying, "What changed, then?"
Glenwing's eyes met Eragon's own, and he saw the elf struggle for a moment. "Your arrival, Eragon. Fäolin, normally, is an agreeable sort. Usually very kind, though with humans he does tend to keep his distance."
"So, what?" Eragon asked, "Does he not like me?"
Glenwing sighed, "All I know, Eragon, was that he recognized you the first time he saw you. How, he hasn't said." A sense of understand flowed through Eragon, and though there was something else there, but Eragon did not push the elf.
"So," Eragon said, "the two of them are mates I take it."
Glenwing shrugged again a smirk appearing for a moment, "Not as such I would think. They never confirmed it, nor have I asked, but you know how we elves are. Slow to change, slow to make decisions."
"Aye," Eragon responded, "I know. If I were being honest, I were to say too slow sometimes. The world can flash by them, and the elves would never reach out to touch it. I know how your kind think of humans. They think us too quick to judge, too quick to action. They think we change our minds like trees in the wind, blowing whichever way. And that much is true as well."
The elf was silent, staring intently at Eragon. Eventually, the elf said, "And you, Eragon? What of the human Rider, who could pass for any elf?"
Eragon glared at the elf, before asking, "The truth then?"
Glenwing nodded, his expression still calm, "Please, Eragon. I'm not here to judge, only to be a friend. Something I think you are sorely lacking."
Swallowing hard, Eragon felt emotion roll up inside him. "The truth is I am stuck between two worlds. For the past two hundred years I have known my fate. I am too alien for humans, too long lived. And it's true I look like an elf, but those who know me know that I am still human, and would leap upon me all their faults, misguided or not. I move too quickly through the world for elves, and too slowly for humans. The only people I truly belonged with are gone, ripped from this world by a mad man."
"You seem to know a great deal about yourself and your lot. More than I can say about myself, at the least," Glenwing admitted.
Eragon shook his head, "Some I learned with time, others I learned from painful experience." Saphira was silent the whole time, her gaze sad upon the Rider. He felt her reach out to comfort him, their bond strong and holding him steady.
"Forgive me, Eragon," Glenwing said, "It was not my intention to upset you so."
"It's alright," Eragon replied, unclenching his fists. He didn't know when he did it, but he could feel his emotions begin to slow. Sighing, Eragon said, "You were right earlier when you said I could use a friend. Thank you, Glenwing."
The elf nodded, and both of them took another long sip of ale, silence ringing out between them. Saphira turned back to her barrel, and Eragon listened as she lapped at the ale. "What of you, Glenwing?" Eragon asked. "We've spoken of a great deal about me, but little about yourself."
"Ah, but what is there to know about an elf like me?" Glenwing smiled. "I'm not from any noble house, but I was born in Ellesméra, about ten years after the war. I knew Arya and Fäolin well, considering we were only the few children born around the same time. When Arya made her decision to join the Varden I did as well. I believe in the Varden and the efforts, but not like she does."
"What of Fäolin, then?" Eragon asked, "does he hold the same commitments as Arya?"
Glenwing's face tightened for a moment, his eye downcast. "He's here because Arya is."
Understanding flowed through Eragon, able to easily read into what the elf didn't say. Turning the conversation away, Eragon instead asked, "What passions do you have? Surely you've taken up with something during your time."
Glenwing smiled, his teeth wide and Eragon watched as joy lit up the elf's face. "If I must say, I enjoy the company of birds. Listening to their music, learning their language gives me great pleasure. Farthen Dûr doesn't have many birds, but when we travel about for our duties I find myself sitting for hours wherever they are, listening as the tell their stories."
"It's a good one, then." Eragon said, receiving a nod from the elf. The two spent a few more hours talking, stories flowing back and forth between them. Glenwing was unlike the rest of his kin, more open with his words and expressions. Eragon found himself liking the company of the elf, who seemed almost still young at heart, as though untouched by the tragic stains of life. Once Saphira had finished her barrel did she join in, telling Glenwing stories of Eragon's exploits, one's that mostly amusing and lighthearted, especially when he was younger and more prone to following his heart then his head.
Time, Eragon found, changed many things.