DISCLAIMER: The Inheritance Trilogy isn't mine, thank the gods.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I didn't plan on actually writing this story down, for many reason's: The least of which being the fact that I'm one of the dreaded "Antis" (and no, I will not get into an argument with anyone, so don't bother), but perhaps it's that very fact that has given me the vantage point to write about thing's differently from many fans. Go figure, point is, the story's partially done (who knows, if I'll actually finish it) and now happily polluting the net. Should you feel like reviewing it, I'd be very happy.
CHAPTER 1- WHEN THE KING CALLS
A misty fall morning had rolled over to an equally misty afternoon. A traveller entering the city of Uru'Baen could only see the blurry outline of the gigantic castle that towered over the great city. Once the castle had been a regular fortress, one badly in need on repair, but now it had grown to be a focal point of a kingdom.
On a clear day, a person standing in any of the castle's windows could see a vast landscape before his eyes, but today everything was covered by soft vapour.
A solitary figure sat on a windowsill in the main part of the castle. His eyes alternated between the world outside and the lute that he held in his hands. The apparently young man was dressed in loose and colourful robes and a large hat decorated with golden bells.
The man's concentration was broken when a pageboy ran into the hall he was occupying and called for him.
"Lord Frilnim, His Majesty requests your company in the throne room."
Frilnim turned his large eyes on the boy. "What for?"
"He didn't say. But I think you should go there quick, sir." The boy made a quick bow and dashed out of the room.
Frilnim stood up, glancing out of the window one last time. He had been looking forward to spending some time alone, but it would seem that he would have to postpone writing his latest song. Slinging his lute over his shoulder, his walked out of the room and headed for the throne room.
The fact that he had been called to the throne room suggested to Frilnim that a meeting was either taking place or had just ended. As the jester, Frilnim was rarely invited to royal meetings, but that did not mean that he was not abreast to the major events and decisions made in them.
Walking through a series of hallways, Frilnim finally came to the large doors leading to the throne in the very heart of the castle.
A pair of guards stood by the doors. When they saw Frilnim coming, they did a half nod half bow and opened the doors to let him in. As the most important room of the castle, responsible for portraying the power of the king, the throne room was worthy of its position. The large hall was divided into three sections by two rows of columns. Tall windows on either long wall made sure that any natural light could illuminate the space and the white surfaces in turn reflected the light and magnified its effects. The columns rose up into a set of small domes in the ceiling in all three sections of the hall, giving the throne room an even further effect of range.
In the back of the throne room was the throne itself, set on top of a podium of worn marble. On the throne sat King Galbatorix. Though currently he looked to be slumping over the seat rather than actually sitting.
Frilnim quickly made sure there was no one else in the hall, before crossing over the space that was between them. Had there been other people around, Frilnim would have been pressed to act more carefully. After all, a jester should be careful of overstepping the bounds of his position too much.
Frilnim walked up the podium and knelt beside Galbatorix. This was no gesture of servitude, but an attempt on his side to get a better view of the king's face.
Sighing warily, Galbatorix ran his hand through his short hair, giving Frilnim a meaningful look.
As far as humans went, Galbatorix looked to be in his thirties, or in his twenties on a good day. However worry had a way of making him appear as old as he truly was.
"You needed to see me," Frilnim said, his voice soft.
"Yes." Galbatorix nodded, pulling himself up slightly.
"Bad news?"
"Nothing really new, just complications of old news."
"Are they still fighting over the job of head advisor ?" Frilnim asked knowingly.
Since the loss of the blue egg, things had been slowly deteriorating in the court. First there were suspicions as to who was responsible for letting the Varden's spies to steal the egg. Then came the news that the egg had hatched and the fact that no one could find the newly revealed rider. Next the rider and his dragon had joined the Varden. And then the truly bad blow, Durza's death.
With Durza and his natural successors, the Twins, all dead, the post of the king's head advisor was up for grabs and every notable military commander and magic user was looking to take over the post.
"Ananrsir stepped down from the competition. I think he was pressured by the others."
Frilnim sat down next to the throne. "Well, I for one never saw him as a real contender. And if he can't some pressure from five other men, he can't be ready for the pressure of being the head advisor."
" True. But I have a feeling someone may have been threatening him or his family." Galbatorix said. "I can hardly blame him pulling out before anything bad happened."
Frilnim smiled, Galbatorix seemed to have developed a great deal of compassion in things related to families. Bit, with everything going on, it was not all that surprising.
"So, you're left with five choices… Though I think Hodnusa wouldn't be that good of an advisor, he has no determination, and he's so longwinded."
Galbatorix snorted, suppressing his laughter, "a grave fault in someone who's essentially a bureaucrat with a sword. What do you think about Valsonin?"
"He has experience in both magic and battle, but he's too ambitious. He practically glows with it. In any case, none of the five can hold a candle to Durza, even with all his shortcomings."
While Frilnim and Durza were far from friends, they still shared a loyalty towards Galbatorix. Frilnim had next to no talent in magic, and Durza was terrible company, so their duties never overlapped and as such the two of them got along.
"That's true," Galbatorix said. "He had courage to admits his limits and attempt to overcome them. Maybe that's why he fought the boy and was killed."
Frilnim shrugged, he could never quite decipher the thought process of the Shade. "I guess you don't need me to tell who would make a fitting second in command, if things were a little different."
The king burrowed his brow. "If thing were different. Murtagh… How could I have missed it?"
Frilnim glanced at Galbatorix, maybe he should not have brought up the subject of Murtagh. After running away from the court, something had happened to Morzan's son, he was so different now.
"He'll come around," Frilnim assured. "He can't blame you for what his father did to him. Everyone, including him, knows that you dote on the boy. Eventually Murtagh will see that."
"I hope so. Until the matter of my advisor is settled, things are going to be restless. If ever, now the rebels might try to strike the court. It's no longer safe outside." Galbatorix looked at Frilnim.
Frilnim recoiled, knowing the real message behind the king's words. "What? But there's a travelling theatre coming to the city. I was looking forward to it."
"We can invite the troupe to perform at the castle, if they are deemed safe."
Frilnim huffed and walked to the closest window. "It's not just that. I want to go outside once in a while. Where the people could care less about the petty things that go on around here."
Galbatorix stood up and moved in front of the jester. "I'm sorry for causing you pain. And I know it's not just the theatre or the people you want to see out there. You long for the forest."
"Isn't it funny." Frilnim frowned and brushed aside his hair, revealing a pointed ear. "I'm everything an elf shouldn't be, but I can't help but feel the wild call me."
By human standards, Frilnim looked like a beautiful youth, but by elf standards he was ordinary. Though, Frilnim remarked to himself, he had acquired, not by his own accord, features that made him even less attractive for elven eyes.
Most striking of these features were three vertical scars that ran over his lips. Should anyone be bold enough to ask how he had gotten the scars, Frilnim would reply it was because of him having a big mouth. And it was true.
"Who ever said you should be like other elves?" Galbatorix smiled and took a hold of Frilnim's hands. "I doubt we'd be friends, if you were one."
"Good to know someone appreciates my attempt at individuality," Frilnim laughed.
"I for one appreciate it. And even more I appreciate your presence in my life," emotion seeped through Galbatorix voice as he held both Frilnim's hands and his gaze.
"I won't even mind, if you send a ra'zac out there with me."
"Frilnim, I've lost too many friends in my life, and I don't want to loose too. Please, try to abide with my request, until the problem passes. I promise to make it up to you some how."
"I thought it was my job to assure you to be patient and not worry," Frilnim said, giving his friend's hands a light squeeze.
Galbatorix chuckled. "After this talk, I expect things to return to that."