Black on White

Step one you say we need to talk
He walks you say sit down it's just a talk
He smiles politely back at you
You stare politely right on through
Some sort of window to your right
As he goes left and you stay right
Between the lines of fear and blame
And you begin to wonder why you came

-The Fray in How to Save a Life

This is sort of a challenge for myself. There have only been three or four of these pairings written, so I thought I'd write one to increase the number.

Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't sue. Thank you.

Arya walked into the inn. She sat down by the bar table as she glanced around in distaste. The place smelled of men, sweat, and dirt. Oh well. This had been her idea. She had gone with Eragon and his cousin to Dras Leona, and she had suggested that they ask around to find out whatever they could about Helgrind.

She felt an arm snake around her waist. She turned and saw a drunken man leering at her.

"Get off me," she said quietly.

"Playing hard to get, eh, precious?" the man slurred.

Arya narrowed her eyes.

"No, I am simply objecting to your attention," she said.

The man started laughing. "Oh, you're one of them cold, dark whores. I like you all the more then."

Arya dug her nails into his wrist. He let go of her with a howl. She got up, and her chair fell back on the man's foot.

"Don't ever make the mistake of thinking I'm a whore again," she hissed to him. The man fell over the back of a chair and crashed into the table as he tried to get away from her.

The inn door opened, and a tall young man strode in. He surveyed the inn. His dark eyes fell on her. A look of shock and then amusement crossed his face. Arya felt her stomach clench. This wasn't good.

Everyone in the inn watched him. Many of the peasants had never seen a sword, let alone one like the red one that hung from his waist. Zar'roc. Misery. His looks had become more elfin but in a different way from Eragon's. He still possessed the savageness of human appearance. His face had simply become paler, his hair darker, and the angles on his face sharper.

The rider gripped her shoulder whispered, "You will come with me. I will not hurt you, but you will come."

"How come she goes with you?" the drunk slurred.

Murtagh threw a coin at the bartender. The man caught it. Arya followed him to a separate room.

"What do you want?" she asked.

"Sit," Murtagh ordered.

"I asked you a question," Arya said.

"I told you to sit," Murtagh repeated.

Arya sat. "Now, will you answer my question?"

"I am interested: why are you skulking around an inn in Dras Leona?" he asked. "I know you're here for my cousin's fiancée, but I honestly thought you'd just go to Helgrind."

"I'm trying to find out what I can about Helgrind," Arya said. "Now, if you don't mind, I have to go. If you intend to kill me, stop procrastinating."

"I don't intend to kill you. At least until I have to fight you all at Helgrind," Murtagh replied.

"Then, I think I'll go," she said.

"You don't need to gather anymore information," Murtagh told her as she went to stand.

"Why not?" she asked.

"Because I'll tell you that they're at the top. The entrance is hidden by an illusion. You or Eragon should be able to sense it. Don't go into the lair if the Ra'zac are near the entrance," Murtagh said. "Now, since I've spared you, the least you can do is share a drink with me."

"Who spared whom here? I think it may have been the other way around," Arya said coldly.

"Not even elves can surpass the riders," Murtagh said. "Galbatorix knows things they are too weak to know."

"The last time I checked, you were Murtagh, not Galbatorix," Arya shot back.

"Is there really a difference to you?" Murtagh inquired. "I defeated your precious rider."

"And you let him go."

"And I paid dearly for it."

"How dearly?"

"Nothing a woman should have to hear."

"Both you and Eragon seem to have trouble remembering I am not one of your helpless females. Besides, I do not think either one of you makes the mistake of thinking the lady Nasuada weak."

Murtagh's face changed briefly. "Well that's Nasuada, isn't it?" he muttered to himself. He looked at Arya and said, "If you had thought, you might have considered that I might not want to speak of my experiences, vanyali."

"I survived Gil'ead, and I told others of what happened," Arya said.

"You told your own people and Eragon. What are you to me?"

"How should I know?"

"And yet a few moments ago you seemed to think you knew all. Besides, Gil'ead is nothing to Urû'baen. You survived Gil'ead. I survived Urû'baen. That would prove me stronger."

"You still live and breathe because the king wanted you to. But have you really survived?"

"What do you mean?"

"You seem to have changed."

"You who know me so little would presume to say that I have changed?"

"I saw you a little when I went to thank you for saving my life, and I saw you more after the battle under Farthen Dûr."

"So I have saved your life twice, vanyali."

"When I last checked, the count was one."

"I have spared you this time."

"We have already spoken of this, and it was not a life-saving. You have caused me less trouble than you could."

"If it pleases you, I would cause you more."

"It would please me if you let me leave."

"But you owe me your life at least one over."

"What do you want?"

"Interest compels me to ask you these things."

"Is that all?"

"Were you hoping for more?"

"Were you?"

"You have not answered the question."

"I asked first."
"I think you did."

"No, I am sure it was you."

"If you wish it, vanyali, we shall disregard the question."

"I do."

"Manipulative as elves always are."

"And you truly believe Galbatorix never manipulated anyone?"

"Treason, vanyali."

"Maybe for you."

"You asked me to say it."

"Do you say it?"

"Do I need to? Don't actions speak louder than words?"

"What actions? You killed the dwarf king."

"I have heard that elves dislike dwarves."

"And they dislike us."

"Then why do you allow me to call you vanyali? It's a dwarf word, is it not?"

"I didn't care."

"What do you care about?"

"Some things. You?"

"Some things."

"That's what I said."

"Do you really think we are that different?" Murtagh asked.

Arya stared at him. He stared back. She hated the way his dark eyes seemed to bore into her skull. She seemed to make the same impression on him.

"Maybe we aren't," she said at last.

"Now, answer my question," Murtagh continued.

"Only if you answer mine," Arya conceded.

Murtagh nodded in accession.

"What do you want to know?" Arya asked.

Murtagh seemed to think for a moment before saying, "I know Eragon liked you. It was obvious. Anyone could see it. He was never very good at hiding how he feels. How do you feel about him?"

"That is a question I have never pondered," Arya replied.

"Why not?"

Arya smiled ruefully. "When you examine something, you may find things best left undiscovered."

"So you do like him?"

"I said I've never examined my feelings, so I do not know."

"Interesting. You can have what you want, but you chose not to have it. I would have what I want, but I can't," Murtagh remarked.

"What do you want?" Arya asked.

"That's the second time you've said that tonight."

"You're avoiding the question."

"At least I don't refuse to discover how I feel. At least I know so I can hide it."

"I'm older than you, human. Much older."

"You're an elf. You cannot compare my life span to yours."

"But as a rider you have all eternity. I am fair in comparing my age to yours."

"Maybe you are," Murtagh shrugged. "Age is just a number though."
"Are you saying I act younger than I should or you act older than your should?" Arya demanded.

Murtagh shrugged again. "Whatever you want, vanyali."

"Will you please stop calling me that?"

"I thought you said you didn't care."

"I have a name, you know."

"Fine, Arya," he said. He said her name slowly, as though tasting it.

"I fear I must ask this a third time. I've been franker with you than I usually am with anyone. Tell me what you want."

"Things that are folly and long since beyond me," Murtagh replied.

"I long for the dead to rise again. I long for one too young for me. I cannot obtain this. Whatever you want can not be as foolish as what I want."

"I long for the leader of those Galbatorix have declared my enemies. Is that folly not greater than yours, Arya?"

It had been a long time since she had heard her name uttered without the courteous Svit-kona or Dröttningu attached. Even Eragon had begun to refrain from using it. Her mother had stopped using the honorific, thankfully.

"Your folly is only great if you consider it so."

"Well, I do."

"Then it is."

"You were never taught to comfort or to console, were you?"

"I used to know how to behave among my own people. I've forgotten some of it. I've never learned to behave among humans. You look for comfort from the wrong person, rider."

"I have a name, you know."

Arya paused before saying his name. "Murtagh."

"We were supposed to be sharing a drink, were we not?" Murtagh said after a pause.

"I dislike human drink," Arya said. She silently pulled a flask of faelnirv from her pack.

"What is that?" Murtagh asked.

"Faelnirv."

"What does it do? Can it make you forget for a while?"

"Maybe. There's not enough of it now."

"Then I'll stick with our vile human stuff."

"Your choice. It never helps to forget for one night because you'll just remember in the morning."

"For once, I suppose it is." Murtagh passed her a goblet of the mead anyway. She took from him. His large, calloused fingers briefly touched her long, thin, dry ones.

She took a sip of the faelnirv. Then she stared into the cup Murtagh had given her. She saw Fäolin's face in the goblet. She blinked, and it had been replaced by Eragon. She blinked a second time, and it became someone she barely remembered: Evandar.

"What's wrong?" Murtagh asked concernedly.

"What?"

"You were crying just then."

"Maybe you're right. Maybe I do need to forget for just tonight." She downed the cup in one gulp. The taste was horrible, but it had a certain dulling effect. She reached across the table to grab the pitcher. Murtagh reached for it at the same time. He grabbed her wrist instead of the pitcher.

"I'm sorry," he said as he let go of it.

"Don't be. I need to forget for one night. So do you," she replied. She felt Murtagh's shock and then response as she pressed her lips against his.

"Forget with me," she whispered. "Remember in the morning if you must, but forget tonight. Forget what we are and what will happen soon. Forget what you want and cannot or will not have."

"I want you now," Murtagh whispered back.

He knocked the wind out of her when he slammed her against the table, but she didn't care. She would no doubt tomorrow, but it wasn't tomorrow yet. They twisted in the darkness of the spare room of an inn in Dras Leona. Tomorrow she would tell Eragon what she had found. That was all anyone would ever know of this night. That was all they needed to because it didn't really matter in the long run.

That was just a pointless story. I hoped you liked it. Please review.