Brisingr Part 2
Nikki Cuthill
Eragon awoke panting and sweating furiously. Again the nightmarish scene had taunted him, as it had each night since the tragic death of Oromis and Glaedr. He sat up slowly and looked across the small tent to where a small pile of armor and saddlebags lay, and saw the Eldunari amongst the top of the pile slightly revealed by a small opening in the leather satchel which carried it. It was a dull shade of gold and glowed only slightly, as if it were barely alive, which Eragon knew indeed it was.
He had not only seen the last few minutes of Oromis and Glaedr, but he had also felt every emotion and thought that pulsated through the immense golden dragon, and he understood the horror of watching your other half die and leave your mind forever. Ever since the deaths, Eragon had remained in his tent mourning his two mentors, only ever leaving to drink and relieve himself.
Eragon! Eragon was suddenly terrified, for he knew that voice, and it was not Saphira.
Eragon! Do not ignore me! Said the voice screaming in his head, Eragon tried to fight it, but it was too strong and soon broke into his feebly guarded mind and began speaking to him.
Eragon! The time to mourn is not now, for now is time for you to serve the Varden in their great time of need. They already grow fearful over the rumors of your seclusion and cannot grow weary now after there is so much hope for them. You must join with them in celebration over their great triumph, and encourage them, not dwell on that which you cannot change.
Eragon sighed, he did not feel nearly at peace to face the crowds of the Varden, but knew that it was his responsibility to make himself ready, so he nodded slowly, Glaedr was after all right, the people needed him now, they needed something in which they could feel strong, and this triumph was exactly what could give them enough courage and hope so that they may endure the hardships to come.
He slowly emerged from under the thin blanket and began to dress himself, slowly dragging each garment onto his clammy skin, as if they weigh several pounds each. He knew that it would be hard to try and be happy for the people, but he also knew that mourning could change nothing, as much as the thought of living with those memories pained him.
When he finally emerged from his tent, Saphira slowly raised her head and looked at him closely with one of her big blue eyes, and immediately understood, for Glaedr had spoken to her also, and although she seemed more reluctant than him, she agreed it was necessary.
If we give up now, all our friends and loved ones will have died for nothing, Glaedr is right, the Varden need hope that they can succeed, and one day see days of peace and freedom.
Eragon nodded and climbed somberly onto Saphira's back, she leapt quickly into the air and stayed low enough to the ground so that the people would be able to see them, but high enough so as to not make a mess of the tents and supplies which lay scattered throughout the encampment. Just two days ago they had won the treacherous battle and overtook Feinster.
And Oromis and Glaedr fell. Thought Eragon to himself, but immediately dissuaded the thought, as it brought back all the pain he had worked so hard to ignore. Instead he thought of Nasuada and what she might say to him when he finally showed his face. Would she be angry with him? Or would she understand the great agony he felt.
I'm sure she will be a little upset with you after such a victory, but will also understand. Saphira slowly descended and landed on the small space which seemed to be the least cluttered with debris, and Eragon dismounted, taking a few breaths before he approached the entrance of Nasuada's tent which was guarded by her personal protectors. As he greeted them, he couldn't help but notice the look of worry on their faces, and as he entered he knew immediately that something had gone terribly wrong.
*Sorry its so short!*
