Eragon Mahariel knew that the Calling would come for him eventually. He was a Warden; no, the Warden, so of course he would know. The Inquisitor's messenger was a welcome source of knowledge; at least he had more time than he had thought to cure his Calling.
He had not realized, however, that it would come for his faithful Mabari.
He still remembered the first time he had seen the animal; the kennel master told him that the previous master was dead, mentioned the dog's name was Thor, then promptly asked for help bringing the animal back to health. It was wrong, seeing him like that; such a noble beast, curled up and whining in pain as the Taint burned through his blood. Mere hours later, Mahariel himself felt that burning pain, the feeling of having your body being corrupted by dark forces beyond comprehension. However, they both survived.
Ah, but Thor was old now. They both sat in their camp, the remains of what had once been Ruck's camp, and Branka's before; the scavenger had moved on long ago, and the mad smith was still barricaded at the Anvil. Thor's grizzled muzzle rested on his knee, the Mabari's legs twitching occasionally as he dreamt of whatever it was Mabaris dreamed of. Occasionally he would whine in his sleep, a result of the pain of a wound taken from darkspawn scavengers a few days earlier. Thor was slow now, old for a Mabari and slowly going rabid from the Taint. It hurt Eragon more than he could express to watch his loyal companion slowly slip away. He shifted slightly, and Thor's eyes slowly opened, bleary from sleep and age.
Thor's eyes met his own, still so intelligent, and Eragon could see the pain and weariness there, but could see the content as well. He could see that Thor was aware of his approaching end, but was so happy to be with his friend. Thor's eyes closed for a minute, the Mabari whining as another wave of burning pain went through him, and when they opened Mahariel saw the unspoken plea of someone prepared for death asking for it. Tears began to fall from his eyes, and he hugged the dog's strong neck, burying his face into Thor's shoulder as he sobbed. "Not you," he sobbed, feeling the weight of everything on him again. While he had managed to keep the precarious balance of peace among his friends and get them all out alive, the weight of everything he had lost was still upon him; his clan, Tamlen… his friendship with Alistair was still precarious, even after Loghain's sacrifice against the Archdemon and their peace-making after the Royal Marriage. He had been forced to leave Morrigan and Kieran behind to try and save his own life, and it was almost maddening how lonely the Deep Roads were.
Thor released a deep sigh from his chest, and Eragon took a deep, shuttering breath, gently pressing his forehead against Thor's. With a sniff, he reached for his pack, pushing aside his sword and shield until he found his hunting knife. "I love you, Thor," he whispered, and Thor's ears perked slightly, before he closed his eyes. Mahariel gently lay the tip against the Mabari's chest, right by the heart, and took another shuddering breath. "Goodbye, my friend," he murmured, and the blade sank home. The death was instant and painless, and Mahariel's sobs began anew as he gently lay his friend upon his blanket, unable to just leave him on the cold, hard stone. "May the Creators guide you, as you guided me these long years."
He would bury the body properly once he returned to the lands above, planting a tree over the remains, but for now, he simply wrapped the blanket over the body, giving over all comfort to his faithful friend.