Chapter One - Sound The Bugle
Summary - When they realize that every child of a Dragon Rider has become a Rider themselves, Arya and Eragon decide to test the theory. But will they grow to regret their decisions? Will a baby bring them closer together or tear them apart?
A/n - So after much waiting, here's the new version of There You'll Be. I am SOOOO sorry this took so long. I'm the first to admit…I'm scatterbrained. Lol. But unlike last time, I won't be doing weekly updates. I'll update whenever I get the chance and the inspiration. Sometimes that will be several times a week, sometimes I may go longer. We'll see what happens.
Quite a bit has changed but I like where it's going. It moves a bit slower than the first version but don't worry…plenty of fluff thrown in. I've fixed (or at least tried to) several of the bigger issues that came up. I've got Saphira written into the outline better so HOPEFULLY I'll remember to include her better…I ain't promisin' nuttin!
One thing you need to know, maybe I missed something but I can't remember where in Brisingr, Nasuada found out that Islanzadi is Arya's mother…so I'm scrapping that. It drove me insane for months…still does (if anyone has a page number, please tell me). So to restate that, no one else knows Arya is the princess…more fun this way anyways. But I once again apologize for this first chapter…I hate starting out stories.
So, picking up directly after Brisingr, I now bring you There You'll Be, Take Two….*bows dramatically* Anything in italics is thoughts. If it's two characters talking through thoughts I'll put one in quotes and one without to tell them apart better.
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Sound the bugle now - play it just for me
As the seasons change - remember how I used to be
Now I can't go on - I can't even start
I've got nothing left - just an empty heart
I'm a soldier - wounded so I must give up the fight
There's nothing more for me - lead me away...
Or leave me lying here
Sound the bugle now - tell them I don't care
There's not a road I know - that leads to anywhere
Without a light I fear that I will - stumble in the dark
Lay right down - decide not to go on
Then from on high - somewhere in the distance
There's a voice that calls - remember who you are
If you lose yourself - your courage soon will follow
So be strong tonight - remember who you are
Ya you're a soldier now - fighting in a battle
To be free once more -Ya that's worth fighting for
Eragon wandered through the crowded streets of Feinster, Saphira trailing along behind him. The excitement of battle had died down, leaving him with an intense feeling of sorrow. Oromis was gone, both body and soul. The mighty dragon, Glaedr, was confined to his Eldunari. And now they were alone again, just he and Saphira left. He struggled to keep his mind off his masters' final moments, the shock of Glaedr's loss, the horrible feeling of being completely alone. He laid a hand on Saphira's shoulder, never wanting to be parted from her. They were partners for life, never to be parted. One could not exist without the other…he couldn't imagine it.
The streets around him were chaotic. The townspeople ran through the streets, hunting for loved ones that were missing. The soldiers carried their dead and wounded back to camp. All around him people were screaming or crying but the noise was only a dulled clamor as his mind refused to process anything but the death of Oromis and Glaedr.
He knew his masters had considered them fully trained. They never would have risked their lives if they hadn't. He knew Oromis and Glaedr believed in them but things still felt hopeless. He was at a loss. Galbatorix and Murtagh were still out there but his mentors were gone. Even with the support of his friends and family, he and Saphira were alone. They were the only free dragon and Rider left. They had no one to turn to who knew what they were going through or how to help them. He sighed loudly. If Oromis and Glaedr couldn't stop them, how were he and Saphira supposed to? They needed help. They needed to be stronger. What he need was to find whatever was in the Vault of Souls…and to do that he needed to find his true name…and the Vault itself. He wasn't sure how he'd do either.
In the distance, he spotted Arya standing along the wall of the city. Garbed in her usual black attire, her long hair held back by a leather band, she looked no different than usual. To the casual observer, they'd never realize that she'd recently been crying in his arms. Her emotionless expression was carefully in place but her green eyes were dull and Eragon knew she was just as upset as he was. He made his way over to her and she nodded her head in acknowledgement. "Eragon," she murmured in greeting. She fell into step beside him as they weaved through the crowded streets and out of the city, heading back towards the Varden's camp.
"Arya…" he called softly, grabbing her attention. "I know that you aren't religious but do elves have any sort of ritual for the dead?" He asked, choking on the word 'dead'. "Do you have funerals or memorials or…anything?" he asked. For a long moment, Arya didn't respond. She simply stared straight ahead, as if she hadn't heard the question. Finally she glanced over at him.
"I'll meet you at your tent just before sundown," she whispered. She didn't wait for a response before turning to leave. Eragon stared after her, watching her fade into the distance.
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That afternoon, Eragon began to notice the elves slowly disappearing. One by one they left the camp until none were left. He waited anxiously outside his tent, wondering what was happening. He assumed Arya would be taking them to wherever the elves were going. When she finally appeared, he stood up quickly and met her halfway. Arya offered him a weak ghost of a smile before indicating that he should follow. They walked in silence, Eragon and Saphira following a step behind Arya. She led them away until they couldn't hear the bustling of the campsite and only the flickering of the campfires were visible in the distance. When she'd apparently decided they'd gone far enough, she settled herself onto the ground without any more explanation. Eragon looked around, wondering where the other elves were. There wasn't another person within sight or sound of them.
Perhaps the others will be coming soon, Saphira suggested. Eragon agreed but wasn't convinced. The others had left hours ago. Surely they'd be here by now. He looked to Arya curiously, hoping she'd explain. Be patient little one, Saphira suggested. She'll explain when she's ready. Eragon sighed softly but forced himself to relax and wait. As the sky grew dark, she finally spoke.
"Their…funeral is being held now," she told him somberly, searching for the word to best describe what was happening. "Always at sunset so everyone can mourn together, even those not present." Eragon and Saphira both grew still at the realization. Oromis and Glaedr's bodies were being put to rest.
As the first stars became visible in the night sky, Arya's soft soprano broke the silence. He didn't know the song so he let her continue uninterrupted, quickly becoming mesmerized by her quiet voice. Since he'd known her, he rarely heard her sing. Sung in the Ancient Language, the soft, slow words formed a song of sadness and mourning. Eragon was curious whether the song was always sung or if it was just something Arya had picked out but he didn't dare interrupt her to ask. As she hit each note with ease, Eragon decided he liked her singing just as much as her laughter. He wished he could hear both of them more often. By the third verse, her clear, quiet voice became choked and died out. They fell back into silence and it soon became apparent that Arya wasn't going to begin again, though he wished she would.
"Arya, where are the other elves?" he finally asked, breaking the newfound silence. She looked up and his breath caught at the sight of her tear-filled eyes.
"Alone. When someone's passed, we rarely travel to them. The exception is when someone is unusually highly respected." She paused and inhaled quietly, "Oromis and Glaedr should fall under that exception but the war changes things. When we don't travel to the funeral, we typically go off by ourselves to mourn alone," she told him quietly. Eragon frowned, wondering why they didn't take comfort in others. Arya looked away from him and continued her explanation, "Elves don't show emotion the way humans or dwarves do. It's easier to let our feelings out when we're alone or with someone we trust rather than within a group." Eragon frowned, wondering if they were keeping her from truly grieving by being with her.
We can leave. Find a secluded place or return to camp, Saphira suggested to Eragon. Eragon nodded.
"We'll leave you then. We didn't know we would be disturbing you," he murmured. He started to stand up but Arya laid her hand over his.
"Stay," she said quietly. "I…I don't mind. I wouldn't have brought you if I did." He nodded but didn't speak again, realizing what it meant for her to allow them to stay. Perhaps she didn't care for him romantically but she must care for him in some way. He allowed a small smile to tug at the corners of his mouth. Arya trusted him.
Thank you, Saphira told her and Eragon echoed the sentiment, his smile dropping as he remembered why they were here. Arya nodded slowly but didn't respond.
He wasn't sure how long they stayed there, sitting in near silence. At some point Arya had hugged her knees to her chest, curling in on herself. Eragon longed to reach out and hold her, as he did the night Oromis and Glaedr died, but he knew she wouldn't allow it. So instead he sat in silence, taking comfort from having Saphira and Arya beside him. Occasionally Eragon would glance at her out of the corner of his eye and every time he was surprised to see tears running down her cheeks. Eragon sighed softly when he looked over and found her with her forehead pressed against her knees, her whole body shaking with quiet sobs. He hesitantly reached out and laid his hand on her shoulder, careful not to push her too far. Arya looked up and held his gaze for a moment before moving closer to him. She kept her gaze locked on his as she leaned against him before finally breaking away, laying her head against his shoulder.
"When I was a child…" she began, "Oromis was my tutor." Eragon pulled away slightly and looked at her, surprised. She offered him a small smile and then laid her head back on his shoulder. Eragon hesitantly put his arm around her waist, relaxing when she took his hand in hers and squeezed it lightly. "My father was dead and my mother was…absent most of the time. Evandar's death was hard for her and she was suddenly thrown into ruling our people on her own…I didn't fit into her plans very well. She tried but I was passed off onto others for years. There were nannies to care for me but Oromis was the one who took me in…" She trailed off and Eragon squeezed her hand reassuringly. She sighed softly, "Oromis and Glaedr were still healing at the time. There were days so bad he could barely get out of his bed in the morning…days he didn't want to get up. He used to say that tutoring me gave him a purpose."
"You were lucky to have him."
We all were, Saphira added. We never would have made it this far if it weren't for Oromis and Glaedr.
"No, we wouldn't have," Eragon agreed.
"He would be proud of you," Arya murmured. Eragon hoped she was right. Arya brushed away a few more tears and settled back against him, letting them fall back into silence.
They'd been sitting in silence for several hours before Eragon spoke up again, "How long do we stay here?"
"Usually all night…but you can leave whenever you wish. Being in a war changes things…stay however long you'd like but don't let it affect you tomorrow." Eragon craned his neck to look down at her.
"I'll stay," he murmured.
"Very well," Arya murmured, letting herself relax against him.
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When the sun had finally begun to rise, Eragon and Saphira parted ways with the elf princess and headed back to camp. They soon fell into a discussion about their fate. They wondered what fate had in store for them after the war had ended. They were the only free dragon and Rider left so all the responsibilities would fall upon their shoulders, especially since there was only one egg left. Until that dragon hatched and could mate with Saphira, there would be no more Riders.
"But that could take centuries," Eragon groaned. He knew the realities of the situation. Two of the three dragon eggs had taken over a century to hatch. The chances of the last egg hatching soon would be slim. If it did happen soon, the chances of it hatching for someone loyal to the Varden were next to nothing considering Galbatorix still had control over the egg.
Maybe it could but that doesn't mean it would, Little One. Both myself and Thorn, she spat, chose Riders recently. Maybe the other egg will follow our lead. Eragon sighed loudly.
"But unless that Rider was for the Varden, it wouldn't do us any good. Our chances of finding that egg are low."
True…They both drifted into silence, trying to think of ways to increase their odds of gaining another Rider for their side. Saphira chuckled deep in her throat. Have you noticed that both you and Murtagh are sons of previous Dragon Riders? And now you are both Riders yourselves. I wonder if that's just a coincidence…
Eragon looked startled for a moment. He hadn't thought of that. His mind quickly drifted to what that could mean for the Riders. As far as anyone knew, he and Murtagh were the only children that had ever been born to a Rider. It was strange that they had both become Riders themselves. What if it wasn't just a coincidence? What if a Rider really did pass something on to their children to increase the odds of becoming a Rider?
Little One, we don't know for sure if that's what it was. You may both have fathers that were Riders but you share something else as well, your mother. If there was something that caused you both to be chosen, it could have just as easily come from Selena.
"It may have but then wouldn't there have been more sibling Riders? It just seems like too big of a chance that the only two Riders who had children produced more Riders." Saphira sighed loudly in response.
That was still only two Riders. It's likely that it was only a coincidence.
"But what if it wasn't? What if we could start raising up the next Rider now?" Eragon asked, becoming more excited by the moment.
But you don't even have a mate. Where exactly would this child come from? When Eragon didn't respond, Saphira nudged him with her nose, chuckling deep in her throat. Perhaps you should think on this a bit longer. Eragon nodded in response.
As they reached the outskirts of the camp, he spotted a group of his old friends sitting around a fire, apparently cooking breakfast. Loring, the old shoemaker from Carvahall, spotted him first and called out, ushering him over. Saphira quietly told him that he should join them. She wanted to go hunting anyways. Eragon nodded and watched her fly off before making his way to the campfire. He spotted Albriech and Baldor and took a seat beside the brothers. He quickly exchanged greeting with the men, glancing around to see who was there. He recognized all of Loring's sons, as well as a few farmers who'd lived near him. A handful of the other men he didn't recognize and assumed they were from Surda or the Varden.
"Take whatever you want," the man cooking said as he slid a plate towards him. Eragon glanced over the small piles of food that had been set aside. As he expected, the majority of it was meat. Finally he grabbed a small loaf of bread and began picking at it. He stared for a moment before piling some eggs onto his plate as well. Technically nothing had been killed to make them so he decided to try it. He hesitantly took a bite and was pleased to find that they didn't upset his stomach.
"So Eragon, where were you coming from? There's nothing over that way," Loring commented, nodding his head in the direction Eragon had been coming from. "We were looking for you earlier but we couldn't find you."
"I was with Arya," Eragon commented between bites. He saw a few of the men frown in confusion and a couple of them mumbled her name, trying to place it.
"Arya's the elf ambassador, the one who's been with us the longest," the cook told them. Albriech frowned and looked up at the just rising sun.
"What were you doing out so early? The sun's only just come up," the blonde brother commented. Baldor elbowed him in the side harshly, shooting him a glare.
"That's none of our business," he hissed. Eragon struggled to suppress a grin. Since learning that he was a Rider, there were people who would do anything to keep from offending him in any way. He wasn't sure whether they were more scared of Saphira or the fact that he could do magic but they didn't like to confront him about anything. Apparently Baldor fit in that category and his brother didn't.
"We've always been friends. We can tell each other stuff," Albriech protested. Eragon glanced around and could see the men's minds beginning to drift. He quickly jumped in, intending to stop their straying thoughts.
"My tutors from Ellesméra were slain in Gilead…we spent the night mourning them." He glanced over at Morn, Carvahall's tavern owner, who had his eyebrow raised suspiciously.
"That was all?" Morn commented, eyeing him disbelievingly.
"Yes. That was all."
"So you aren't courting Arya?" one of the men asked. Eragon sighed exasperatedly.
"No," he said sternly.
"Well that's too bad," Loring said with a cackle. "She's a pretty one. You'd best hurry up and marry her before someone else moves in and takes her." Eragon flushed and looked away.
"Arya and I are just friends," he told them, clenching his teeth slightly. He almost added that elves don't marry anyways but he knew that would just push them into continuing. Thankfully the men let the subject die down and they fell back into an easy conversation.
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That afternoon, Eragon met some of his old friends in a field outside the camp. Baldor had asked if Eragon would spar with them and give them some tips on swordplay. He had readily agreed. If something he could teach them could save his friends' lives, then he wanted to teach them as much as possible.
He was in the middle of a sparring match with the blonde headed Albriech when he spotted Horst walking towards them purposefully. At first he thought Horst just wanted to watch his sons spar but as he came closer it became clear that the older man was agitated. His fists were clenching and unclenching at his sides and his shoulders seemed tensed. Eragon ducked, narrowly avoiding Albriech's sword. He swiftly raised his sword to the back of Albriech's neck, ending the match just as Horst reached them. Baldor and Albriech both looked up at their father with identical worried expressions.
"Is something wrong?" Albriech asked. His voice sounded choked and hoarse.
"Your mother's gone into labor…" Horst trailed off with a sigh. He squeezed his eyes shut and looked towards the sky. "Gertrude said it doesn't look good…she's already so weak." Eragon stiffened as he realized that he hadn't gone to see Elain. Maybe he'd have been able to heal her. He distantly heard Horst mention something about going to wait for more news.
"Can I come along? Maybe I could do something to help," Eragon asked, feeling guilty about not visiting Elain sooner. The family had always been good to him. It was time for him to return the favor. Horst only nodded in response, suddenly looking choked up.
Eragon followed along behind the three men cautiously, not wanting to disturb them. It was obvious that all three were upset. After several minutes, Horst stopped outside a tent and nodded towards it. Soft whimpers were coming from inside and he could see several shapes rushing around inside. A soft cry came from inside the tent and Eragon took in a deep breath before stepping through the door.
Elain was laying on the cot on the far side of the tent. She was paler than he'd ever seen her and if it wasn't for the quiet whimpers he'd have wondered if she was even alive. Katrina was sitting by her head, holding her hand while Gertrude rushed around the tent, gathering up random items. Another woman, whose name he didn't know, was standing in a corner, keeping out of Gertrude's way as she bickered about the crowded space. The moment he entered the doorway, all three women stopped what they were doing and looked up. Gertrude glared at him and rushed up, shooing him backwards.
"Out out out. This is no place for men."
"But maybe I could help her," Eragon protested, throwing his hands out in front of him to try to stop her advance. Gertrude swatted him with her hand, pushing him out the door.
"Stay out!"
Gertrude immediately turned and walked back inside, leaving him standing there staring at the closed entryway. He looked back at Horst helplessly. They wouldn't even let him try to help. Horst sighed loudly.
"Sit down. You can wait with us if you want," he grumbled. "Should have guessed Gertrude would be stubborn."
Eragon sighed and sank down beside the older man. The least he could do was wait. If something went wrong then he'd force Gertrude to let him in, not that he was sure what he'd do if he was allowed in. He just hoped a simple 'waíse heill' would work.
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A/n - and there's my crummy first chapter! Lol. I had no idea where I wanted to end it. It was posted without any editing because it's taken so long already so it definitely isn't perfect…but it'll do. Just bear with me til things start moving. Lol.
Anyways, my review alert is turned off. I get panicky whenever people review for some reason. I plan to check them every so often but I won't be responding quickly the way I did last time. If you have questions and you want anything answered immediately, pm me. I'll get back to you within a day if at all possible.
Also, NO flames. If ya don't like it, don't read it. I saw this happen on one of my favorite fics…don't bug me about updating quickly. I'll update whenever I get the chance. I am fairly busy this year and will probably continue to be. I also get distracted easily. I'll try to update fairly regularly though.
Thanks for bearing with me through all this,
SLF