A day had passed since the Ageati Bloodhrën, Saphira had left for the hunt, and would be gone for a few more hours at least, considering the distance she had to go to avoid the many elves that still lingered from the celebration.
Eragon had not left his tree. He had spent the day in near silence, contemplating the night before. He sat with his legs dangling over the edge of the tear-dropped doorway. He gazed at leaves blowing in the wind, mesmerized by the fact that he could hear them from a hundreds of yards away. Still, they could not displace his thoughts of Arya. He tried another tactic, pondering a question that had been on his mind since his first lessons with Oromis.
He was startled by a knock from the direction of the trap door. Eragon drew a breath. No one had seen him since he had retreated to his tree. So unless Arya had spread word of his change, the elf at the door was in for a shock.
Eragon got to his feet, and opened the door with trepidation. To his surprise, it was Orik who stood before him, chest heaving from the many steps he had just climbed.
Orik looked mildly surprised. He avoided Eragon's eyes awkwardly, murmuring, "Oh, hullo, Is Rider Eragon-." He stopped suddenly as his eyes met the wine-red sword at Eragon's hip. His eyes widened, moving upwards to study Eragon's face. He stood still as the stone from which he claimed to have come, his mouth open. "Eragon?" he asked, barely audible.
"Hello Orik." Eragon said with a half smile.
Orik snapped his mouth shut, attempting to reign in his shock. "H-how are you?" he asked.
Eragon had to think for a moment. How was he? Heartbroken. But he was sure that was not what Orik was referring to. If I am to have any hope of patching things up with Arya, that matter should probably be kept out of conversation. "I am… well Orik. "The…change the dragons wrought me has lifted Durza's curse. I am crippled no more."
"So your back…"
"The scar is gone, as if it never occurred."
A smile broke Orik's stupor. "That is good news."
"That it is."
They stood by the door a moment longer. Despite Orik's attempt at casual conversation, he seemed uncomfortable with his friend's new appearance — wary as he was of elves in general.
Eragon broke the silence. "Would you like to sit down?"
Orik gave a nod and followed Eragon up the stairs to his study, where a few chairs were scattered. Pulling a chair over from the far wall, Eragon asked, "Have you recovered from the celebration?"
"Hardly." Orik chuckled. "I only just woke, and those bloody haunted elven songs won't leave my head in peace."
Eragon smiled, "I know the feeling."
"So," Orik asked, looking around the study, which was cluttered with many open scrolls, "what have you been up to?"
Eragon sighed. "Thinking."
Orik waited, the slight breeze picking up speed and knocking branches against the walls.
"Thinking about battle." Eragon continued, "I have killed a great many Urgals."
"As have I, Eragon. And everyone else who was at the battle of Farthen Dûr."
"I know that. But," he paused, looking for the right words, "but it was… easy. I was raised to view them as monsters. The monsters that tore human villages to pieces and left no one standing. I never stopped to think about the families I was destroying. Saphira and I, we killed hundreds Orik. Destroyed hundreds of families in a matter of hours."
"And you saved thousands more in the process." It was Orik's turn to sigh. "Such is war, Eragon."
"A few days ago… I went hunting with Saphira." Eragon replied, attempting to convey his meaning through another train of thought. "I killed some rabbits; I skinned them; I cooked them. And when I tried to eat them, I almost vomited. I could bear not eat them. I don't know if I could hunt again unless faced with starvation."
Orik looked thoroughly confused.
"Arya was right. I have been inside the minds of animals, and having heard their thoughts, I cannot eat them. And… in the coming battles, we will not be facing Urgals, Orik. We will be facing the King's armies. We will be killing men." Eragon looked past Orik, his eyes clouded. "If I cannot kill a rabbit, how can I kill one of my own race? That is… if I can even be called a man anymore…"
Orik watched him silently, his eyes containing sorrow. Sorrow for one who had been forced to kill. Forced to bare the burdens of an entire land. Forced into becoming someone he couldn't recognize.
"When I was but a youth of four and thirty…" Orik began, "there had not been a clan war in over a century, and the Knurlan of Vrenshrrgn, the War Wolves, were growing restless." Orik drew a finger across his mustache thoughtfully. "They roamed the Beors, hunting Nagra. A group of them chased a sound of Nagra for a month, and ended up herding them into the feldûnost grazing grounds. Ah, it was a disaster, Eragon. The feldûnost fled in every direction, into the valleys and forests. Those of Dûrgrimst Feldûnost spent many months chasing them down. And even then, they only recovered half of them. The Shrrg, I fear, ate very well that year." Orik said with a chuckle.
Eragon joined in. Though he could not see the relevance of the story, he was glad Orik was at least speaking with him again.
"This, of course, caused many problems. Those of Dûrgrimst feldûnost who weren't busy hunting down their flock threatened to take up arms against those of Dûrgrimst Nagra, who they blamed blindly. Dûrgrimst Vrenshrrgn saw this as an affront and sided with Dûrgrimst Nagra. And, afraid of loosing the feldûnost, which rely upon for much, many clans sided with Dûrgrimst feldûnost. A clan war seemed unavoidable.
One night, news came to Farthen Dûr that a group of Nagra Knurlan and their allies, numbering 500, were moving to attack the Knurlan of Durgrismt Feldûnost come morn. It was not an act by the clan chiefs. For they would have mounted an army of thousands. But, clan wars have been started over much less. And on this terrible night, Hrothgar was nowhere to be found.
I knew if nothing was done, it would be disaster; no, worse, it would be devastation. If those of Durgrimst Feldûnost were killed, the entire flock would flee, or be killed in the process. We rely on the feldûnost for milk, wool, and trusted transport over the mountains. To loose them…" Orik shivered. " So, I took to the streets, proclaiming my mission. I was going to save the feldûnost. I was going to stop the clan war before it happened. I was going to bring glory to Durgrimst Ingetium. Many came to my side, helmets on and axes banging their shields like gongs. It was a sight. Our troupe hid in the mountains on either side of the valley through which the attackers would pass." Here he paused, as if unable to continue.
Eragon waited a moment, uncertain. "Did you win the battle?" he asked finally, unable to contain his curiosity.
"Aye." Orik took a deep breath, his thick brow furrowed. "We won. But I wanted more than the defeat of our enemies. I wanted the glory of battle. I wanted to prove beyond a doubt that I was worthy to be Hrothgar's heir. The would-be attackers saw that it was hopeless. They attempted to retreat, but I ordered their slaughter. We killed every last one."
Eragon breathed in sharply.
Orik eyed him for a moment, wary of how his foster brother would react. After a few seconds of silence, he continued, "Hrothgar was not pleased."
"But you stopped the battle before it happened."
"I did. But, it turns out that he had been in a secluded part of Tronjheim, skrying Íorûnn, the Grimstborith of Durgrimst Vrenshrrg. He did not merely wish to save the feldûnost, and protect the interests of the Ingetium. He wanted to protect all his people, even those who would seek war. By some miracle, he still managed to convince Íorûnn to issue a formal apology to the Durgrimst Nagra, and the Grimstborith of Durgrimst Nagra renounced the attack as not of her making. In the end, war was avoided. It took me a long time to understand Hrothgar's anger, and why he avoided confronting those who openly threatened to attack. But when I did, I respected him all the more. It is for this reason that you too, Eragon have earned my respect. And for this reason that I believe Hrothgar chose to adopt you."
"Because I try to talk things through before attacking goat hearders?" Eragon asked with a smirk.
Orik merely rolled his eyes. "Because you, of all people, do not fight for the glory of battle, or to have your name sung by the Bards. You do not wish such bloodshed on any of your peoples. For you, a human who resembles an elf, shares his soul with a dragon, and is a Knurlan in all but blood, have adopted all those of Alagaësia as your people. This is also why, when the time comes, you will fight, as you did in Farthen Dûr. You will fight for peace."
Quiet settled the room once more. But it was not awkward, as it had been before. It was the kind of quiet companionship, and of respect. "Your words humble me Orik." was all Eragon could manage to say.
They continued an easy conversation for the rest of the afternoon. And, at least for a while, Eragon's mind was at peace.