A/N: Okay, so in the memories he revisits, Oromis is about twenty-one, twenty-two, somewhere in that age area. It's soon after he becomes a Rider, anyway...Glaedr is old enough to breathe fire, but is still young. The second part (when Oromis is by himself) is set when Glaedr is teaching Eragon and Saphira about the nature of their bond as dragon and Rider, in the chapter "The Beginning of Wisdom".

Disclaimer: All of the characters (except for Kaya) and places used in the following story belong to Christopher Paolini. And because I'm not Christopher Paolini, I don't own them (except for Kaya...actually, I don't own her, either – I strongly disapprove of slavery). Capisce?

"No, Eragon."

Oromis gazed at his student expectantly. "Never use..."

Eragon sighed. "Absolutes. I know."

"Try again." Oromis kept his voice gentle; nevertheless, Eragon scowled.

"Sometimes I think I'll never understand magic," he complained.

Oromis smiled. "No one has solved all the mysteries of gramarye," he said, still gentle. "That is one thing that no one – especially not a sixteen-year-old – can ever hope to achieve."

Eragon's scowl deepened, despite his master's assurances. "But-" he started to complain.

"Eragon," Oromis interrupted, an edge of sternness creeping into his voice, "you are young. Young people make mistakes." Old people make mistakes, he thought wryly. "It's part of being a person," he continued aloud. "Now learn from this mistake and try again."

As Eragon complied, Oromis allowed his mind to drift back to when he was young, and made a mistake that should have killed him – and nearly did...

He first noticed her because she was not dressed like the other human women. Whereas every other human woman he had seen wore skirts or dresses, she was clad in a tunic and breeches, like a man. Despite this oddity, she soon disappeared into the seething crowd. He was still pondering this strange fashion choice when a strident voice rang out; "Stop! Thief!"

Oromis whirled around in time to see the same woman dashing away from a very fat, very angry merchant, who was currently shouting that she had stolen something – its exact nature was lost in the general hubbub of the large city.

Oromis sprinted after her. Despite his advantage in speed, she managed to elude him by turning corners at the last moment and darting down nearly-invisible side streets. When she suddenly ducked around yet another corner, Oromis skidded to a stop and planted his hands on his hips. Enough is enough, he thought, calling Glaedr.

Within moments, the gold dragon appeared. As he clambered on, Oromis explained the situation. We will find her, Glaedr assured the young elf as the dragon launched himself into the sky.

Casting about with his gaze as well as his mind, Oromis searched the city. Finding the woman proved to be more difficult than he had thought, though – largely, he assumed, because he had never touched her mind, and so was unsure of what to look for.

As the pair completed a third circuit above Ilirea, Oromis sighed. You were wrong, Glaedr; we'll never find her. It's hopeless.

Nothing is hopeless, Oromis, Glaedr chastised. Extremely difficult, yes, but not hopeless.

Oromis frowned. Maybe...

"Master?"

Oromis started as he realized that Eragon was speaking to him, a concerned look on the youth's face. Oromis smiled. "I'm sorry, Eragon."

The younger Rider frowned. "Are you okay? You looked a little-"

"I am fine," Oromis assured his student. Eragon slowly nodded, still looking troubled. "I appreciate your concern. Now go sit in the forest; listen; and when you hear no more-"

"Come tell you," Eragon interrupted. He smiled. "Yes, Master." He turned and walked in the direction of his customary glade.

Oromis' smile widened almost imperceptibly. He turned and walked slowly toward his hut, still absorbed in his memories...

The pair soared among the clouds for perhaps an hour before returning to land. As Oromis walked the city streets once more, he felt a prickling sensation on the nape of his neck, as if he was being watched. He stopped and cast his mind outward, people jostling him in their hurry to who-knew-where. He sensed nothing unusual, although it was hard for him to tell in such a large crowd. Yet the feeling persisted. He frowned and turned a full circle, carefully looking for anything out of the ordinary. Still he found nothing; still the feeling was there. He turned to continue on his way, resigned to an unsolvable mystery, when a presence touched his mind.

He threw up his defenses, but they were brushed aside like so many cobwebs. A single word reverberated through the link:

Come.

Then the contact faded, leaving Oromis dazed and confused. He felt Glaedr's concern through their connection and told him what had happened.

It was a human, he concluded, a woman. I think it might be the same one we were looking for earlier. What should I do?

He felt the dragon's snort. You know as well as I do that you should go after her, he said. Just be careful.

"Careful...right," Oromis muttered under his breath. He hesitated, unsure which direction to go.

A pair of vivid blue eyes locked onto his grey ones. With that contact came a mental one, repeating a single word – Come.

The eyes disappeared.

Oromis started purposefully after them. When he reached the mouth of an alley, he saw a flash of brown rounding a corner ahead.

For the second time that day, Oromis found himself chasing a mysterious and elusive quarry. Each glimpse – sometimes of a boot, sometimes of hair or a pantleg – led him deeper into the maze of back alleys and side streets until he was hopelessly lost. Finally, he walked around a corner to find himself facing a dead end. A dark-haired woman sat cross-legged between himself and the far wall.

Her head, which had been bowed, snapped up as he approached. His questions died in his throat as he met her bright blue eyes. She grinned. "You came," she said, relief evident in her voice – the same voice that had spoken into his mind.

Oromis took a moment to find his own voice. "Aye," he said; it was all he could manage.

She nodded once, as if satisfied at a certain result. "Good. I was hoping you would."

Oromis frowned. "Why?"

The woman sighed and tucked a strand of hair behind one of her slightly tapered ears. Oromis tried to conceal his shock. She's not human!

She gestured to the ground in front of her. "Please, sit; my tale is a long one." When Oromis hesitated, she smiled apologetically and said, "I'm afraid the ground will have to do; there's not exactly an abundance of chairs around here." At that, Oromis sat, mirroring her cross-legged posture as she began.

oOo

The next day, Eragon went with Glaedr and Saphira. It was time the students learned what Glaedr had to teach them; besides, Oromis wasn't exactly feeling his best.

He was currently sitting at his table, staring at a scroll. To say he was reading it would be a lie – it was more an excuse to not be doing anything but think...

"My name is Kaya," she told him. "I've been on my own for quite some time, and I need your help."

"Why?" Oromis interrupted. When she raised an eyebrow, he elaborated. "Why are you on your own? If that's a personal question, you don't have to answer," he hastened to add when she hesitated.

She simply smiled wearily. "No, it's not that personal; it's just a different story. Suffice it to say that my family situation isn't the best. Now," she said, "I need your help to get a life." She glanced away. "That did not come out right," she muttered.

"I know what you mean," Oromis assured her. "You want help getting off the street, as it were."

She gave him a grateful look. "Precisely."

Oromis frowned. "Why me, though? Why couldn't you ask someone else? Not," he added quickly, "that I'm unwilling to help you. It's just -" he hesitated. "Wouldn't there be someone more...qualified?"

Kaya's expression hardened. "There isn't." She paused, then her face softened. "You're a Rider, which means you're powerful to some extent. You're around my age – as far as I can tell -" she smiled apologetically- "which means you'd probably understand my plight, if you will, better than someone older. I'd say those reasons alone qualify you to help me."

Oromis started to speak, stopped, started again. There were too many questions whirling around his head. "Why do you sound like you're not sure if we're the same age?" he finally blurted out.

Kaia raised an eyebrow. "Because I'm not." When Oromis gave her an oh-come-on look, she grinned. "Sorry, I couldn't help myself. It's just that it's hard for me to tell with elves, even though I grew up-" she turned away, as if afraid of revealing too much.

Oromis was puzzled by this, but decided not to mention it. He asked Glaedr, What do you think?

Be careful.

You know what I mean.

Glaedr was silent for a moment. Help her. She seems to be telling the truth. Besides, what are the Riders but helpers?

Good point. He turned his attention back to Kaya."What do you need me to do?"

She faced him again, beaming. "You mean you'll help?"

Oromis couldn't help but smile back. "Of course."

Oromis unconsciously frowned as he remembered his promise. If he hadn't gotten involved, maybe it would have been different. Maybe she wouldn't have come that night. Maybe she wouldn't have...but that was the past, and there was nothing he could do to change it. He closed his eyes and tried, unsuccessfully, to resist the storm of memories that threatened to drown him...

Over the next several months, Oromis grew very close to Kaya. Even after he helped her get hired as a weaver's apprentice, they remained good friends, seeing each other often. One day, when he asked her why she looked like a human Rider, she went quiet, before sighing in a defeated manner. "I guess you, of all people, deserve to know," she told him with a wan smile.

Her father was a human – a Rider, in point of fact – and her mother was an elf. "Also a Rider," she commented. "That's how they met." For the first few years of their marriage, the pair lived happily, raising a child – Kaya – with love and devotion.

"Then it all fell apart," she said darkly. Apparently, even though they tried their hardest, the human and the elf simply could not relate. One day, Kaya's mother packed her bags and swept Kaya off to Du Weldenvarden to live with the elves. Her father didn't come after them for nearly a month. At this point in the story, Kaya had to pause to compose herself – the pain had never faded – before continuing. Eventually, her parents worked out an agreement that Kaya would spend half the year with each of her parents. She was only eight years old when it happened.

"Finally I just got sick of it," she said in conclusion. "A few years ago, when I was with my father, I ran away. I took what I could carry, left a note, and just...ran."

"What made you decide to come here?" he asked.

She shrugged. "I didn't really pick a destination – I just wanted out. I knew enough to get by until I came to a city, so I just chose a direction and started walking."

Oromis whistled. "You have some nerve."

She laughed. "I think I'd call it stupidity rather than nerve."

"That might be appropriate," he agreed, grinning. His reward was a friendly punch on the arm.

Decades passed. Oromis was often away from Ilirea – his duties as a Rider kept him busy – but he always made sure to see Kaya whenever he visited. Things changed – Oromis became an elder Rider; Kaya floated from job to job and, occasionally, city to city – but their friendship remained.

Then Galbatorix made his bid for kingship. From the first battle, it was clear that things were not going to end well. For most of the war, Oromis and Kaya saw nothing of each other, swept apart by the sea of blood. When they did meet, it was under circumstances neither of them imagined.

Oromis dropped his face into his hands. "Why?" he murmured. Even after a full century, the pain had not dulled in the slightest. Tears slid down his cheeks as he recalled that final, fateful day...

Pain. Unending, mind-breaking pain. Then sweet relief – but it is artificial. He hears the twisted laughter of his tormentors before becoming deaf to the outside world once more. He would cry out, but he has no voice. He would run, but he cannot move. His entire world is ruled by pain. His definition of life is agony. Nothing exists but redness, blackness, whiteness – the colors of misery. Physical sensations slowly return, before being swept aside by blessed darkness. In this darkness, there is no feeling at all. He is barely alive, but he welcomes death – anything to escape the pain.

He awakens slowly to find himself on a stone floor. He cannot move, but he has no desire to; even breathing sends lances of aching misery through his body. He feels Glaedr through their link, the dragon every bit as weak as himself. He hears voices, but none he recognizes. But no...he knows that voice. "Kaya?" he whispers – or would, if he didn't hurt so much. The voices grow louder, and he can distinguish a few words.

Kaya's voice: "...exactly...kind of...what?" The last word is an incredulous shout.

A new voice: "Honey...reckless...now, now..." He knew that voice – Formora was there.

He frowned mentally; actually changing his facial expression would hurt too much. Formora was one of his captors and tormentors. She was talking to Kaya, calling her "honey"...

His eyes widened, and he immediately regretted the action. Kaya was Formora's daughter! It didn't make sense, but it was the only logical explanation. Kaya had never told him the name of her mother – presumably because of ill feelings harbored. But why else would any woman call Kaya "honey"? He reviewed what he knew of the Forsworn elf, refusing to believe his conclusion until he had exhausted every other possibility.

Formora was old enough to be Kaya's mother, that much was certain. She had left her post in Ilirea over a century ago to live in Du Weldenvarden, and had never told anyone why. She had married a human, another Rider, but he was killed early in the fighting. All those facts aligned perfectly with what Kaya had told him of her family. He was reluctant to accept it, but no other options presented themselves.

Later that night, when he had managed to sit upright in a corner by leaning on the walls, he heard a slight noise outside his cell.

His eyes flew open as he heard it again. It sounded like...no, that was impossible. Who would be walking around here in the dead of night? Nevertheless, he could have sworn he heard a boot striking the floor outside. He deepened his connection to Glaedr, silently asking the dragon to watch and help, if possible.

There it was again! A louder, duller impact this time, accompanied by a soft curse. Apparently, whoever was sneaking around had kicked something. The footsteps grew clearer, as well as closer, before stopping outside his door. He couldn't see anything clearly – it was too dark, and in his weary state, he could barely see anything even in bright torchlight – but the person outside evidently could, for he or she let out a soft gasp. He heard a faint click as the lock was turned, then the intruder padded inside and closed the door carefully before hurrying to his side.

"Oromis?" came the incredulous whisper by his ear.

His eyes widened in disbelief. "Kaya?" he croaked.

"Hush," she admonished gently – his voice was full of pain. She murmured a brief spell, and though the room got no lighter, he could see his old friend crouched beside him, shock etched in every line of her face. "What are-" she started to ask, but then seemed to think better of it. She instead applied herself to helping him stand.

What is she doing here? Glaedr asked wearily.

"What are you doing here?" he repeated, in spite of her admonition.

She smiled wryly. "That's what I was going to ask you. I'm helping you get out of here," she said in answer to his question, "what's it look like?"

He grinned weakly. "Well, then, why are you standing around talking?" For they were standing, albeit shakily.

She started to answer, then fear contorted her expression. "Quiet," she hissed, dragging him back down.

It wasn't long before he heard what had her worried: footsteps approaching. Unlike hers, though, these were bold, not trying to conceal their presence. Soon, a flicker of torchlight was visible, and the pair heard voices.

"I'm telling you, I saw something!" Harsh, grating, and full of hate – that was Kialandí, there was no doubt.

"Maybe your eyes are playing tricks on you," Kialandí's companion said doubtfully. Softer, smoother, but still menacing, Formora's voice floated down the hall.

Kialandí grunted. "I don't think so."

"And what makes you so sure?" The two were almost right outside Oromis' cell.

Kialandí was silent until he drew level with the door. He glanced in casually, then looked away before performing a double-take. He gave a predatory grin. "That," he said triumphantly, pointing through the barred window as he moved aside to make room for his companion.

Formora peered through the window, obviously expecting to see only Oromis. Her eyes widened and her mouth formed a perfect "o" when she spotted Kaya. She gaped for several seconds, during which all Oromis could hear was the pounding of his heart. Then Formora's mouth compressed into a thin line, and she demanded of her daughter, "What are you doing here?"

Kaya stood up straight. "Helping a friend," she said, her voice every bit as hard and full of spite as her mother's. "Something you would know nothing about."

Formora recoiled as if stung. Her eyebrows met in a fierce scowl, and she yanked the door open – Kaya had not relocked it. "You had best watch your tongue, missy," she snarled as she stalked inside. Even Kialandí looked startled, but Kaya held her ground.

"You lost the right to talk to me that way a long time ago," Kaya said.

Formora slapped her. "I am still your mother," she shouted. "You will-" Whatever it was Kaya would do was lost in a sharp exhalation as Kaya drove her fist into Formora's stomach.

"I'll admit, that felt good," she growled as she massaged her jaw with her right hand, her left still curled into a fist.

As soon as Formora regained her breath, she launched herself at Kaya with a fierce cry. The two women fought, barehanded, as mortal foes – which, in a sense, they were. Kialandí and Oromis – and, by extension, Glaedr – watched silently, startled by the combatants' ferocity.

At one point, Formora hurled Kaya bodily into the hall, where she smacked against the wall and slumped to floor. Formora stood, breathing heavily, fists clenched, as Kaya remained still. Kialandí cautiously walked over to see if Kaya was alive – and in doing so, forfeit his life.

As he bent over to check for a pulse, Kialandí found himself seized by the neck. Kaya's left hand kept Kialandí down, while her right sought and found the hilt of the dagger at Kialandí's waist. Gripping the weapon, Kaya shoved Kialandí upward, scrambled to her knees, and thrust the blade through his heart.

Kaya got to her feet as Kialandí fell, white-faced. For a minute, all eyes were on the dead Rider, until Formora spoke.

"You killed him," she said hollowly. Kaya nodded, her wide eyes still glued to the corpse. "You killed him," Formora repeated with growing anger.

Kaya faced her mother. "Yes, I did." She seemed dazed by what she had done – Oromis doubted she had ever taken a life before.

Formora's face contorted into an expression of pure, white-hot rage. "You killed him!"

"Yes, Mother, I killed him," Kaya said, an edge of irritation creeping into her voice. "What are you going to do – kill me?"

Formora started to respond, then seemed to think better of her answer. "No," she said silkily. "I will kill him." She pointed to Oromis.

Kaya's eyes widened and she started toward Oromis, but Formora was quicker. She drew her knife and spun around, plunging her arm directly toward Oromis' chest. Dimly, he heard Kaya scream, "Letta!"

The blade stopped its deadly stroke, barely an inch from Oromis' flesh.

A burst of adrenaline enabled him to scramble away from the knife. He looked between the two women, panting from his brush with death. Kaya's eyes were still wide, but her face was otherwise a mask of determination. Formora's lips were locked in a snarl, her arm trembling. The silent battle continued for several seconds, until Kaya dropped with a cry.

Formora fell forward, off-balance, but swiftly recovered. Spinning, she strode over to her daughter, forgetting Oromis in her hate. She hissed a bitter curse through clenched teeth. Oromis winced, even though the words were not directed toward him. Formora raised her knife once more, preparing to wet the blade with her daughter's blood.

Kaya didn't give her the opportunity. She dove toward her mother's feet, tripping her. As Formora fell, Kaya rolled and stood, grasping a dagger that she had retrieved from Formora's boot. The two women circled each other warily, then Kaya feinted left. Formora took the bait, and Kaya lunged, driving her blade toward her opponent's throat.

Before it reached its mark, Formora realized her danger and swiped at her daughter – then her throat was cut and she lived no more. Kaya stood, doubled over the steel embedded in her stomach. She looked up, met Oromis' eyes. Then her own rolled back and she collapsed. Despite his weakness, he dragged himself over to Kaya, fervently hoping that she was still alive.

She was, for the moment. He sat, cradling her head in his lap, as she struggled to breath. "Oromis," she whispered painfully.

"I'm here," he answered, his own voice breaking.

She smiled grimly, panting. "Got you...out of here...didn't I?"

He nodded, biting his lip. "Yes, yes you did."

She went still briefly, the jerked her head to one side. She faced Oromis again. Her blue eyes were full of pain. "Oromis," she said, her voice a bit stronger, "don't let them get you. Run. Run like...like I did."

"I will," he promised. He could feel her life slipping away.

"One more thing..." He could barely hear her. "I-" she gritted her teeth against a wave of pain. Then, so softly he almost missed her words:

"I love you."

And she was still.

Oromis lowered his head, tears running down his cheeks. He sat in the middle of a prison cell, two dead bodies lying around him, another on his lap. He was practically covered in scars, and he could feel that something was not right in his mind. His dragon had lost a leg, and a mother and daughter had just fought to the death. Yet he wept for none of those things; he wept because he had never told his oldest, dearest friend that which she would never hear.

"I love you, too."

Oromis sobbed as he recalled the biggest mistake of his life: Befriending - falling in love with - a woman so loyal, she would give her life to save his own.

A/N: Awww, so sad! Poor brokenhearted Oromis...no wonder he's the Mourning Sage.

Okay, once upon a time, Kialandí was Kaya's mother, but...now that Inheritance is out and we know...things...that was changed. Speaking of, I know this isn't what really happened, but hey - this is fan fiction, people 8D

Please review! If you think I was too horrible, tell me. If you think I wasn't horrible enough, tell me. If you think I'm a giant Krabby Patty, tell me. Flamers will be roasted over their own flames. Mmkay?