GALBATORIX'S
STORY
Death
Galbatorix, at seven-years-old, raced through the fields with his two friends, Alÿare and Jacob. Their hometown was mainly fields, forest, and farms. Their town was small and no more then seven or eight families lived there.
"Tag, your it!" Shouted Jacob as he tackled Galbatorix, splattering mud over the two. Galbatorix scrambled up and chased after them. Alÿare ran into the woods as fast as his feet would carry him and Jacob ran to the left along the stream, both trying to avoid the new tagger. Gathering speed Galbatorix trailed Alÿare into the dense forest. The branches of the many trees scraped against his legs as he weaved between each trunk.
The forest was hilly, and Galbatorix was not in good shape. Soon his legs began to burn and his breath came in gasps. Alÿare's speed didn't seem to falter as he ran up a steep hill. The boy was tall, strong, and everything Galbatorix hoped he could become someday. At the top of a hill Alÿare slipped and all Galbatorix could see was Alÿare's hands scrambling for a grip as he heard his friend yell in sudden alarm. As fast as he could, being as tired as he was, Galbatorix raced to the top of the hill only to come upon a steep cliff on the other side. Alÿare was hanging onto a root sticking out from the rock a few feet down. His feet dangled below him as the small boy looked at the sharp rocks below. His eyes were filled with fear as his hands turned white from holding onto the small root.
"Help!" yelled Alÿare as he looked up and saw Galbatorix.
Galbatorix laid down on his stomach and reached over the cliff. For support, he wrapped his feet around a tree trunk and lowered his hand as far down as he could. "Grab my hand!" He yelled down heroically.
Alÿare reached up and gripped Galbatorix's hand. The two united in a strong, but sweaty grip. With all the strength left in him, Galbatorix pulled. The pressure from the other boys weight caused Galbatorix's muscles to burn and his face to grow hot as he tried to lift his friend. Alÿare swung up his left foot and rested it on a small crevice. With all the boy's might he pushed off from the foothold trying to grab the land above. His foot slipped underneath him, however and his body slammed against the cliff.
The extra weight from Alÿare loosing his footing was too much for Galbatorix to hold. Alÿare slipped out of his fingers as Galbatorix cried out.
Alÿare's eyes widened with fear as he fell backward. To Galbatorix it seemed that his friend was just falling in slow motion, that each flailing move was magically slowed. Alÿare yelled out for what would be the last time in his life. With a sharp crack and a bloody mess, his body hit the rocks below and his life had ceased. Galbatorix's eyes swelled up in tears as he mumbled to himself trying to understand what had just happened. It was his fault; if only he was stronger he could have pulled Alÿare up.
He heard branches cracking as a body ran up behind him. Galbatorix didn't move, he didn't flinch. His eyes were focused on the mangled body far below. He was frozen from fear and shock.
"Galbatorix, I heard screaming, what ha—" Jacob cut himself off when he saw Galbatorix kneeled at the edge of a cliff and the mangled body of Alÿare down below. "Oh my god! You killed him!"
Galbatorix's tear filled eyes took a moment to look up, but when they finally did, Jacob was gone. He had already run off to tell an adult.
Time seemed to slip away and Galbatorix sat there and cried. A few times he tried to yell down to Alÿare in mad hope that this was just a dream and Alÿare would jump up as if it was all a joke. But nothing happened. His best friend stayed down there and didn't move. The smell of blood made its way up to Galbatorix, a smell he would not soon forget.
A tall man with a ragged beard dressed in dirty ripped farming clothes led three other men though the forest. This man was Galbatorix's father. The boy could not see however, everything went by in a blur. Life seemed to slow as he looked up and saw the adults talking to him, but he could not hear what they were saying. Everything was silent and slowly, everything went black.
The next thing Galbatorix remembered was waking up on the floor with a few blankets draped over him as covers. He had no pillow, but the young boy was used to this, for a pillow was luxury. After blinking the sleep from his eyes Galbatorix looked up and saw his father standing with those three other men and talking to them close by. One of the men mumbled something to his father and pointed to Galbatorix. Hastily, his father walked over and squatted close to Galbatorix's head.
"Son, tell me, what happened while you were in the forest."
Memories flooded back into the boys mind as he was reminded what had happened the day before. He closed his eyes and tried to cover his face, not wanting to accept reality.
His father was not inclined to this, however, and ripped the sheets from his son's face. "Boy, you had better tell me. And tell me the truth. If you lie I will hire a magician to break into your mind and see the memory for himself."
Galbatorix squirmed in fear at the thought of another man prying into his head. The last thing he wanted to do was recite his memory, but it seemed there was no other choice. "We...we were playing tag," he explained feebly, his voice cracking almost every word, "and I chased Alÿare into…into the forest. But...he slipped…I couldn't' see where he went." Galbatorix tried to cover his face with his hands, but his father ripped then away and glared down at his son, pressing him to continue. Scared, the boy struggled. "I tried to save him dad! I tired...but…but, I was too weak and he was too heavy. He...he slipped out of my hands and..." Galbatorix buried his face in his hands and began to sob.
There was a quick sting in Galbatorix's cheek as his father slapped him hard. "Don't be such a coward!" He growled. "Your old enough now not to cry. If I see you crying again I swear I will..." Without turning his head, Galbatorix father realized then that the other men were still in the room, probably staring at him. He did not finish his sentence verbally, but with the deathly glare given to his son gave Galbatorix a good idea of what his father was going to say. The man stood up and stalked out of the room in a huff the other three men following after a quick glance back at the pathetic boy on the floor.
Pulling the covers over his head in fear, Galbatorix shut his eyes tight and tried to imagine anything else but reality. A warm hand touched his shoulder and Galbatorix recognized it as that of his mother's. He slowly uncovered his head and looked her in the eyes.
"Galbatorix, I know your father is harsh," she began in a soft and comforting voice, "but he only wants the best for you. He just doesn't know how to show you, but deep inside he wants you to be a man, a man he can be proud of."
Galbatorix looked up into her soft face with his tear-filled eyes. It was clear he needed more then that to be comforted. His mother picked up on that and began to sing him a soft, slow song.
"Life
is beautiful, my child,
Though many things go wrong,
And you
may hear much sadness in
Its strange and lovely song.
Though
friends and loved ones die, my child,
They're never really
gone.
Nor more nor less than yesterday,
In you they will live
on.
They
will live on inside you,
As everything you see,
Though they
must vanish, they'll remain
Alive in memory.
Alive
in what you think and feel
And dream and say and do,
For all
who ever were still are
Upon this earth in you."
Galbatorix's eyes slowly closed as her soft song edged him into sleep. Soon life was nothing but a hazy memory as he was fast asleep.
