Alagaesian Christmas Carol
Disclaimer: This is based off of A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens, which is a very wonderful book, and the Inheritance Cycle by Christopher Paolini and I don't own either of them!
As most people know the current king of Alagaesia was considered cruel, merciless, ruthless, dangerous, a threat to peace, and many other things by many other people. He was also in his own special way a miser, much like Ebenezer Scrooge. Perhaps, that is why the ghosts of Christmas decided to pay him a visit. This is where our story begins…
Uru'baen stood out like a sore thumb, in contrast with the surrounding land which was for all intents and purposes green farmland. The castle at the very heart of Uru'baen attracted everyone's attention even if for only moments. Beggars would curse the king that had worsened their position; townspeople would try to ignore it only to find themselves staring at it daydreaming about how nice it would be to be as well off as the king. Still, no one looked at it with the same amount of hatred as a certain dragon rider.
Thorn banked sharply to the right avoiding a flock of doves, and Murtagh's dark thoughts were disturbed. With fresh eyes he watched as the castle and Uru'baen loomed ever closer. A soft blanket of snow flurries was beginning to coat the city, and the snowflakes blew about oblivious to the world, quite content with floating down to the earth below. The castle's tall turrets and the deep shining blackness of the castle no longer impressed Murtagh, but as he gazed upon the castle coated in snow it took his breath away.
Somehow, the snow seemed to make the castle seem softer. Lights shown brightly from the windows of the houses surrounded the castle, where the inhabitants sat gathered around tables eating dinner. There were even candles in every window of the castle, which Murtagh thought as he smiled must have been arranged by a particularly cheerful housekeeper. He shook his head trying to clear his minds of the warm thoughts. The mood of the king was not likely to reflect the happiness of the season.
Thorn landed in an outer courtyard that had been set aside by the king for their private use. Murtagh dismounted and was pleasantly surprised to see that the warmth of the housekeeper had extended to the courtyard. Wreaths of evergreen hung on the doors leading into the castle, and above the dragon sized doorway leading into the dragon hold. A sudden rush of warmth filled him, and in that moment he decided to ask Galbatorix if he and Thorn could have the day off.
Murtagh! Someone put holly all over the walls! Thorn said, and Murtagh saw a picture of the dragon hold with sprigs of bright red holly hanging from various places in the hold. Murtagh let out a chuckle.
That someone must be filled with the holiday spirit. I hope that they managed to fill Galbatorix with some cheer too! Murtagh replied as he strode off into the castle determined to speak with Galbatorix. Thorn sensed Murtagh's intentions, and worry seeped through their connection.
Be careful, Murtagh. I fear that Galbatorix is a grinch. Thorn warned Murtagh.
I will. Murtagh said, and then before Thorn could try to persuade him not too he regretfully shut Thorn from his mind. Before too long, the carved wooden doors that lead to the throne room loomed ahead of Murtagh. He knocked, and gulped nervously, belatedly wondering if this had been a mistake.
"Come in!" Galbatorix's voice rang out. Murtagh could not tell if he sounded annoyed: he forced himself to open the door because now there was no backing out.
"King Galbatorix," Murtagh said as he reluctantly bowed trying to swallow his pride. "I would like your permission for Thorn, and I to have the day off tomorrow. It is Christmas day," He keep his voice and face neutral not wanting to appear weak in front of the king. Galbatorix was silent, and Murtagh peered up at him, trying to determine what sort of mood Galbatorix was in. Galbatorix's blank face gave no sign of annoyance but his dark almost black eyes betrayed a slight anger at the request. Finally, just as Murtagh was about to repeat himself, Galbatorix decided to answer.
"No," The answer was so short and to the point that Murtagh was taken aback, and he did not think fast enough to stop himself from blurting out a question.
"Why?" Murtagh turned pale, afraid that the question would be taken for snippiness. It was. Galbatorix's face turned scarlet, and he frowned.
Murtagh found himself hurled across the room into the stone wall by magic. Blood trickled down his body, and he could feel that some bones were broken. Galbatorix's anger faded after the sudden show of violence.
"I refuse to let you have the day off because we are at war. Everyday that you fail to serve is a day that the Varden can use to find a way to stop me. You failed to capture Eragon, and Saphira many times, and I refuse to reward your incompetence," Galbatorix said before turning away, clearly dismissing the broken rider.
Murtagh grimaced and healed himself before quickly escaping the throne room. He felt Thorn trying to contact him, and he opened his mind to the dragon.
So? Thorn prompted him, when Murtagh failed to respond.
We will be working tomorrow. I failed, Thorn. Murtagh sighed despondently. Thorn tried to comfort him, expressing his gratitude to Murtagh for even trying, but Murtagh was inconsolable.
Deep within the castle, where the rooms were reminiscent of tombs, a certain dark king was preparing the plans for the upcoming battle. Maps and scraps of paper littered the large wooden desk, and floor of the room. Galbatorix sat deep in thought: his eyes flickered quickly between intelligence reports, and the various maps. Plans, and madness wound intertwined in his mind.
Suddenly, there was a loud thump followed by the sound of heavy footsteps. Galbatorix cocked his head, listening. Then, shrugging he got back to his planning. There was a creak as the door to the study opened. Galbatorix frowned, and decided to look angry. He truly found joy in scaring people. Swiftly turning around, he readied himself to call upon the person who had dared enter his study without knocking. Instead of scaring the intruder, what Galbatorix saw scared him half to death.
"Who are you?" He gasped slightly frightened. He gathered his wits about himself, and cautiously erected some magical wards around his body. Then taking a deep breath he looked up at the intruder again.
The intruder seemed to only partly on the physical plane. The shape was solid enough but the colors and the slight distortion around the edges made it look almost ghost-like. The shape was of a human, who seemed rather tall and strong. His deep brown hair and piercing blue eyes reminded Galbatorix vaguely of Murtagh. Then with a start he recognized the figure standing before him.
Don't you remember me? Was I not one of your closest allies? The figure's voice was deep and deafening, but Galbatorix was not sure that the person before him was even speaking out loud.
"You look like Morzan, but that is hardly possible for he is long dead," The calmness in his voice surprised even Galbatorix himself. The figure chuckled, and the sound echoed throughout the room.
Who ever said that I was alive? I am he, Morzan of the Forsworn. Morzan's specter seemed to be mildly amused by Galbatorix's expression. Galbatorix took another deep breath in order to calm himself.
"Why are you here?" Galbatorix said. Part of his mind was interested in the phenomenon that was Morzan's specter, another part, the more practical part, just wanted the apparition to be gone.
I have come to warn you. Lest you change your ways, you shall suffer as I do. Morzan rumbled, and Galbatorix saw that the eyes of the specter looked haunted.
"Suffer…" Galbatorix repeated warily, for Morzan had had a temper that mirrored his own. The specter nodded slowly, and began to explain. Death seemed to have mellowed Morzan.
You will watch your life; everything will be clear and sharp. All of the consequences of your actions are pressed into your head… Galbatorix it is a horrible thing, it is like carrying the weight of the world on your shoulder. I sacrificed everything that I had, a family, a loving wife, and a bright son, sacrificed it all for your bloody dream. Morzan's voice grew mocking as he spoke, and Galbatorix flinched at the anger. But I blame you not for I knew what I was doing.
"What do you want me to do?" Galbatorix was not yet ready to give up his dream of ruling Alagaesia but he was wise enough to know to listen to his friend even if he was a specter.
Do not make my mistakes! When the clock strikes midnight a visitor will come to see you. You must heed the advice if you are to escape this fate. Morzan's ghost commanded, and Galbatorix nodded warily.
A wind rushed through the room even though there was no window in the room. Fog obscured Galbatorix's vision for some time. When it finally disappeared Morzan was no where to be found. He shook his head, and turned back to the maps, and planning. Some small part of him listened carefully for the ringing of the clock, while the rest of him tried to focus on the upcoming battle.
Dong…Dong…Dong…
Galbatorix whipped around, and turned to look at the door, counting the bells in his head.
Dong…Dong…Dong…
His heart began to race, and his pulse quickened. Still, nothing appeared at the door.
Dong…Dong…Dong…
The temperature of the room rose considerably. Galbatorix blinked in surprise.
Dong…Dong…Dong…
Twelve times the bell in the clock tower rang. Galbatorix stared at the door, and was disappointed to see that no one entered. He must really be going insane, as so many of his enemies hissed. Turning back to the desk, he barely stifled a scream. Apparently someone had entered, but this visitor was definitely not human.
Before him lay a beautiful dragon. It had a similar appearance to Morzan, if you looked straight at it looked fuzzy around the edges. Its scales shown a deep violet, and bright blue eyes watched his expression with barely contained amusement. The spines that ran neatly down the dragon's back and the sharp dagger-like claws were both a shade of dark grey.
Have you already forgotten me, little one? The voice of the dragon was sweet, and filled with love. The blue eyes of the dragon sparkled with intelligence, it was clear that she had been keeping tabs on him, she knew what he had done, and yet she of all people still forgave him. Galbatorix felt his eyes fill with tears, and suddenly the room was very blurry.
"Acacia," Galbatorix managed to cry out in shock, and pain. "I…I…miss you so much," He had recognized the dragon immediately, and his stone heart had melted, splitting again.
I have missed you too, my rider. Acacia was saying, but he barely heard the words. His world and his heart were both falling apart. His dragon, the one who had been murdered. He realized now that she could only be a ghost. He tried to ignore that focusing on the words that she was speaking. It has been so hard watching you, seeing you in pain, watching as made mistakes that I could have prevented, if only I had not been so weak.
"It was not your fault. I was foolish," Galbatorix spluttered, shaking his head. Acacia waited patiently as he collected himself.
We do not have time for that argument now. I have come to warn you. Galbatorix you must change your ways. Still, I know that you are headstrong. Perhaps showing you would be better. I am going to show you some of the Christmas's from your past. Acacia said. Galbatorix stared, and held out his hand to her. She stretched her head forward and her snout touched his gedwey ignesia. It lit up, and the room around them disappeared.
Look. Acacia said simply. Galbatorix obeyed, and surveyed his surroundings. They were in a town square. All of the houses had wreaths of evergreen of the doors, and many had bright red bows. Warm candlelight shown from every window, and the sound of chatter could be heard.
There was the sound of dragon wings, and a rider appeared. The dragon it rode gleamed gold, and the elf that was its rider emitted an air of importance. Together, they were marvelous sight. Galbatorix flinched before realizing that he must be invisible to all, for he knew Acacia would never hurt him.
A villager ran out of one of the houses to greet the rider. Almost immediately a crowd of adults, and children alike gathered around the rider clearly amazed.
"Season's greetings, Oromis. You have arrived just in time for our holiday celebration, would you care to join us for dinner?" The villager said. Oromis smiled, and Glaedr hummed approvingly.
"I would but first perhaps we could have our own Christmas miracle. I have with me a very stubborn egg, would your village's children like to touch it?" With a flourish he revealed a deep purple egg that had veins of grey. The villager nodded smiling.
The children cried out excitedly and hurried to line up to touch the egg. The very last child was a small boy. His brown hair was ruffled, and his eyes shown with excitement. Clearly, this day was one he had dreamed about. When, he touched the egg it began to shake. Soon, a small dragon hatchling was nestled in his arms.
"Acacia," The boy murmured.
The vision faded, and Galbatorix was back in his study across from Acacia. He was for the first time in a long while smiling happily, for the memory was a fond one. Acacia hummed happily and began to speak again.
I knew from the moment that you touched me that you were the one. I know that you are still essentially good, even if you have now developed a crusty and cold shell to disguise it. Now, little one. I must go.
"Don't leave me," Galbatorix said sadly.
I am loathe to go but I must. Another will come to you when the clock strikes one. Farewell, my sweet rider! Acacia said. Even as she spoke her form was fading, and within seconds Galbatorix stood alone in his study. Once again, he sat at the desk but this time he was not planning battle tactics. He was busy reliving some of his happiest memories.
Dong…
One o'clock the bell chimed. Galbatorix turned un-willingly to face the door. There was a figure already standing there. Galbatorix frowned; he had hoped that the next visitor would have been a friend. This visitor was one that instead had all rights to hate him, Brom.
"Brom?" Galbatorix whispered quietly. In his head he was hoping that this visit would be considerably shorter that Acacia's visit.
Good day, Galbatorix. I am here as your ghost of Christmas present. Brom's voice was even and smooth.
"No need to be so polite, Brom. I know that you dislike me," Galbatorix said angrily. His face flushed red with annoyance.
I can be civilized. Everyone is entitled to their own opinions. I just wish that your opinions would not include the destruction of Alagaesia, the riders, and my son. Brom said. His ghost did not seem to be the least bit ruffled by Galbatorix's anger. He wrinkled his nose. And some anger management wouldn't hurt!
"Your son? I don't plan on hurting Eragon," Galbatorix said, his anger fading to be replaced by his own strange sense of humor. Brom's specter had obviously surprised him.
You knew? Now, it was Brom's turn to sound surprised. Galbatorix nodded smiling again.
"Of course, I'm not stupid. I did pay attention to the Forsworn. They were a very amusing pastime. What I didn't know was that you were the gardener who fathered Selena's child or were the child ended up afterward," Galbatorix said. "But I can put two and two together. A simple farm child doesn't always become a dragon rider and have the legendary Brom as a protector,"
Well, now it seems I may have underestimated you, but I am forgetting myself. I have come to warn you that you must change your ways. I have come to show you the consequences of your recent actions. Brom said. The room around them began to blur.
"Which recent actions? I am a very busy man you know," Galbatorix teased Brom.
Perhaps those laughing un-dead soldiers or the war that claims hundreds of lives every day! Brom's scathing voice shredded Galbatorix's amusement. Instead of replying, he turned to survey the scene that they were now in.
It was a small home, and a family had gathered around the table. Candles glowed in the windows, and there were some wonderful smells wafting through the room, making Galbatorix's mouth water. The children were seated at the table smiling brightly as the mother began to serve the holiday meal.
Soon the children were bustled off too bed and their mother was sitting alone at the table. Her carefully constructed façade of cheerfulness melted away. Tears began to slide down her cheeks as she fingered a ring twisted around her finger.
"Why is she crying?" Galbatorix asked confused. Brom looked at him, his eyes showing something akin to amazement.
Her husband is in your army, and she fears that he will never return. Brom said. Galbatorix turned back, and saw to his surprise that the scene had changed; now he was watching another family dinner with another missing family member.
Over and over Galbatorix watched different scenes with the same underlying theme. He turned to Brom.
"I'm not sure why you are showing me this," Galbatorix admitted.
Your dream is costing some their dreams. Many families have been torn apart because of this war. Our time is up, now I must go. Look for another when the clock tolls two. Brom said, and before Galbatorix could blink he found himself alone in his study.
He sat down slowly, and rested his head in his hands. Brom had given him something to think about but he was not sure that he wanted to let go of the mostly pleasant memories that Acacia's visit had brought back to him. To think about his actions now, would be like trading a sweet pumpkin pie that your mom made for a chuck of moldy bread that the mouse wouldn't even eat. Still, it was hardly likely that he would be able to enjoy the pleasant memories while more pressing questions loomed on the horizon.
Dong…Dong…
Galbatorix was roused from his wondering by the chiming of the clock tower bell. Time had slipped away as quickly as sand runs through ones fingers. Once again he slowly turned to look at the door, and immediately wished he hadn't. The specter that stood before him reminded him of the Raz'ac. It had a slightly more human hunched shape, but all facial features were obscured by a black cloak that the figure was wearing. He could smell an awful stench that seemed to radiate from the creature. He gagged, and tried to speak.
"Are you the ghost of Christmas future?" He managed to gasp out. He watched as the creature nodded and without speaking. Then Galbatorix found the room blurring. The only thing that Galbatorix could see was the Raz'ac-like figure that stood outlined against the white fog that spilled in. Galbatorix felt his pulse begin to race, and felt a chill pass over him.
All around him lay the dead bodies of men. Blood had stained the ground a vivid red. He could imagine the screams, and the clanging of swords that would have accompanied this battle. He could barely make out the emblem of the empire on some of the soldiers. He turned to the ghost, and saw that the ghost was watching him closely. He quickly scanned the area around him trying to figure out why he had been brought here. Then he gave up, and turned to ask the silent specter.
"Why did you bring me here?" The ghost slowly lifted its arm, and the cloak shifted revealing gnarled fingers that curled about and pointed at a body that lay near Galbatorix. Galbatorix peered down at the body, and jerked back in shock. He did a double take and looked again. The face of the person had not changed, it was still his own.
Just then, there was the crunching sound of footsteps approaching. Galbatorix looked up, and stared at the people. Both looked as though they were elves, as they got nearer he recognized them. Eragon and Arya, even though he had never met them in person he had seen them often in Murtagh's memories. Soon, they were standing next to his dead body.
"Leave it," Arya said, and Galbatorix realized that they were continuing an argument that they had no doubt started earlier. "Let the vultures eat. No one cares what happens to him, no one is shedding any tears over his fate,"
"That may be but I refuse to stoop that low. I know that Shruiken was upset by his death," Eragon said, and he bent down by the body.
"He twisted Shruiken to obey him, and be his dragon!" Arya practically screamed. She was practically spitting with anger.
"Yes, but…I don't know it just feels right," Eragon said.
"This is Galbatorix we are talking about," Arya's eyes sparkled with hate. "Do you remember what happened to me when I was in his prison?"
"Of course not!" Eragon glance up sharply, obviously offended. "If I didn't do what felt right to me, who knows where I would be," He stood up and Galbatorix heard him whisper. "Brisingr!"
Immediately, flames burst up licking the body. Within seconds, there was nothing but ash. Afterward, Eragon turned, and left with Arya following closely behind.
"What!?" Galbatorix turned to look at the ghost, and was surprised to find it pointing out again. He turned and saw a full scale celebration breaking out in Uru'baen. People were running through the streets, and laughing. Every once in a while a cheer would start up, and Eragon and Saphira would be seen flying above the city. "Why are they all cheering?"
Because you are dead… The ghost's voice sounded like nails on a chalkboard, and sent shivers down Galbatorix's back. Before he could reply, he found himself alone in the study. Gasping he breathed in, unaware that he had been holding his breath in order to avoid the stench of the ghost. Then, thoroughly shaken he staggered off to bed.
The next morning, he woke up early, and hurried down to Murtagh's dragonhold. There he found himself face with a momentous decision. He stood quietly staring at the door pondering his choices. He wondering was interrupted by a slightly breathless Murtagh.
"I'm sorry, sir! I was just getting ready to go," Murtagh apologized profusely, and readied himself for the impending punishment. Galbatorix took one look at Murtagh's frightened expression, and made up his mind.
"Don't bother! I was just coming down here to tell you that you can have today off," Galbatorix said quickly, taking delight in the surprised expression that formed on Murtagh's face.
"Are you sure that you feel okay?" Murtagh asked hesitantly. Galbatorix smiled wider, though in his heart he was breaking. He was just now beginning to feel some remorse for what he had put Murtagh through.
"Of course! While your at it, have the whole week off," It was a spur of the moment decision, and he was almost sure that he would not regret it. Humming a tune to himself, he began to walk away. Murtagh stuttered some form of a thank you, and rushed off. Galbatorix chuckled knowing that Murtagh was hoping that whatever spell the king was under would last long enough for him to leave the castle.
The king's wanderings soon took him to his study. The effect of the morning had not worn off yet, indeed he was not sure that it ever would, but the feeling of generosity had diminished. Old habits died hard. He reached into the desk grabbing a bottle of ink, and parchment. Then in his best penmanship he began to write:
To the Lady Nasuada, chief of the Varden, and Eragon, the blue rider,
It has come to my attention that the state of affairs which we find ourselves in has entered rather dark, and if I am to be truthful, wasteful loss of life. The war at hand was never something that I hoped would come to pass, though I have no doubt of the outcome, rather I am interested in an alternate way of solving this perplexing riddle. The times are hard, and dark, enough without adding more. Thus, I have resolved myself to asking for a peaceful solution to this tangled mess that we find ourselves in. I am hoping that your preconceived notions will not get in the way of some purely diplomatic bargaining.
If you agree, please respond quickly that way we may spare the lives of some soldiers, and move on pass this bumpy path that is the road set for us by destiny.
Most respectfully yours,
Galbatorix
King of Alagaesia, last of the elder riders, and keeper of the peace
He quickly folded the letter, and affixed his royal wax seal to the envelope. It was true that he was willing to bargain but he was not yet willing to give up his dream, that being ruling Alagaesia.
Change is slow, but it is constant. There is little doubt that the specter's visits changed him. It just leaves one wondering 'How much?'
Hazelcloud: Merry Christmas to all! I sincerely hope that you enjoyed this 'Alagaesian Christmas Carol' and remember reviews are truly wonderful gifts!