I arose early in the morning, stretching and tangling myself deeper into the rough sheets of my cot. After tossing and turning several times in a half hearted attempt to lull myself back to sleep, I force my toes to touch the cold stone floor of the dragon's keep.

"Saphira?" I reach out and brush her mind.

A low growl responds. I ignore her indifference and try again.

"Saphira!" I wait and listen

"What?" she at last grumbles in reply

"Murtagh" I state simply, sharing my feelings and hurt with this simple mention of a name. A wave of sadness and worry ripples through me. We both ignore the emotions pulsing through the mental link we share. I am roused from my thoughts by a heavy foot fall outside my room. A moment later Orik appears holding a platter of meat for saphira and two plates of bread and water for ourselves.

"Morning, silver hand, much to do, hurry, hurry, eat."

I grab of chunk of bread and tear into it with my teeth. We eat in silence as I build up the courage to ask Orik my next question. After a Smokey sigh and a sharp mental nudge from saphira, I clear my throat and say, almost too quickly,

"Orik, I wish to attend to some personal matters first, if I may?"

I debate adding the question at the end, afraid my request will be denied.

Orik looks up from his cup; puzzlement and reluctancy clear on his face.

"if I may ask, silver hand, what is it you intend to do?"

Now I am reluctant. My face flushes red and I speak slowly and unsurely, casting my eyes to the floor.

"I have been longing to speak with Murtagh."

I look up to see Orik fingering his beard thoughtfully.

"well..." he begins

I hold my breath

"Very well, follow me." he says in his rough dwarves accent

My sigh of relief is audible

Orik leads me through the labyrinth that is the dwarven city of tronjehm. We turn this way and that, for so long that I am sure that Orik is lost or mad. Just when the panic begins to swell in my chest, we round a corner and I nearly collide with Orik. We are standing in front of a large wooden door, in the center of which is a barred window. Two dwarves guard the entrance with swords and shields clutched in their hands. Orik says something to one of them in dwarfish to which he nods sharply and opens the door. Light floods the tunnel from the prison and I step eagerly into the cell. I am so shocked by the pleasantness of the room that I barely notice the door shut behind me. My eyes are still adjusting to the light when a voice rings out beside me.

"Eragon?" the rich tenor voice floats across the air. I turn to see its owner, standing frozen in front of a cushioned chair. His wavy brown hair falls in locks around his shoulders. His crystal blue eyes remind me of a clear creek, frozen over in winter. His hard jaw line and sets lips hold my eyes. Only when I notice his even breathing, his chest rising and falling in steady motions, do I realize I have been staring for minutes. I think to respond but I can come up with nothing to say. As if he can feel my distress he answers for me

"Are you well?"

Desperate to make up for my awkward silence I grasp for words, stuttering

"Yes, I am very well. But I've missed you. Are you well? Of course not, you're locked up in..."

"It's quite nice here, don't you think?" he cuts me off, ignoring my blundering comment. He sits back down, seemingly relaxed, and motions for me to do the same,

"It's hardly a prison" I reply, falling back into an overly cushioned chair.

"Yes, they have made me comfortable, all the books I could possible read, and more food than I could possibly eat." he chuckles and adds "I'll be a lug."

I smile at this, relaxing finally. I sink further into the chair and breathe deeply.

I came to the prison expecting to see shackles and chains, expecting to see Murtagh in great distress. I so worried about his condition I considered making his release my only compromise for the Varden. A weight has been lifted off my chest, but a thought still consumes my mind with worry. I push it back. His eyes catch mine and my train of thought is broken again. I struggle not to look away, and I am bothered by the fact that he is seemingly at ease. I force myself to remain relaxed and appear indifferent, a hard task when we sit a few feet away. He looks his left for a moment and begins rustling through a pile of papers on a nearby end table. I take the chance to notice his face, free from his holding gaze. I try to memorize every feature, but his eyes catch me again, his eye lashes are so long I think he will blink and they will tangle somehow. We sit in silence for a time, before Orik calls.

"Silver hand, we have much to attend to"

It is silent for a moment

"I must be leaving" I tell Murtagh remorsefully

We break eye contact, only for a second, but it's long enough. My shoulders tense, my brow furrows, and my worries for Murtagh and myself return. I avoid his eyes as I stand, and cross the room, but allow myself one final glance. He stands and crosses the room in three strides. I am frozen again, unsure of what is happening. Murtagh leans in slowly, so close I can see every feature of his face. He turns his head suddenly and whispers in my ear.

"Be safe" his breath tickles my neck, and I feel his soft lips graze my cheek. His hand lightly touches my waist, and quickly tucks a piece of paper into my waistband. He leans back and turns, walking quickly back into his cell, and I am whisked off by Orik.