Nasuada's POV! WOO
Aren't you excited? :D
Anywhos, I am. This is fan-effing-tastical. Because I'm updating. On time. Who cares that this chapter was already written… :)
Oh, and I've decided that a super idea would be to make a playlist for this story. I'm going to do YouTube and project playlist. If you look up cowsaymuh on YouTube, it should come up to playlists on my page. Because fanfic doesn't like it when I link other sites here... Anywhos, after you see my playlists, click on my username (CowsayMuh), and it's under playlists. You wanna know the name? Eyes of Rain. (le-gasp)
I'll get the playlist next chapter. I still have to make an account there. But now I'm motivated!
Disclaimer: I don't own Eragon. I also don't own an elephant. Life's funny that way, eh?
Song: It Ends Tonight, All American Rejects
Chapter 2: The Dawn Before The Storm:
The moments before dawn are the quietest, the darkest. Before the sun rises, the night tries to hold on to the darkness it has become accustomed to, knowing that if it lets the darkness disappear, a new morn will start, and the world may not be ready to face the day. And this particular morn was especially terrible- the people of the rebellion were to lose the small hope they had been clutching on to for so long. And they seemed to know this- even the normal early morning scuffle was nonexistent, the silence undisturbed, except for the sound of an evening robe slipping out of its tent.
A single silhouette stood on the balcony. She stood strong, proud, but there was something about her- something almost like a broken animal, something heart wrenching about the lonely silhouette on the balcony. Something that only became more pronounced as the young woman raised her hand to eye level.
If anyone had been near, they would have heard a forlorn voice softly say, "Black. Like me."
She thought she was alone. But a bone chilling voice from behind her whispered, "No, milady, not black. Never black."
"Then what color, Elva? I have always been referred to as the lady with ebony skin, the skin of onyx. Are they not black?"
"Maybe they are, but people say that because they have no better way to describe you. Have you ever seen a person with skin like a mineral? I think not. People are part of the living nature; they are not perfect, like a gemstone. They are flawed, varied as the petals on a rose. And just as beautiful."
The woman sighed. There was no fighting with a being who knew all the arguments. As she walked pass the child with violet eyes, the glow of the candle enveloped Nasuada. Her skin, dark as night.
"Listen to me." Suddenly the voice that had been filled with comfort seconds ago sounded abrupt, nearly rude. "Nothing in nature is black. Nature is, in itself, good. Even the night is blue, although it's darker than any found in our land. Even your skin, darker than the tree bark, has hints of warm, handsome brown in it. Even a black horse will have a white sock, or lighter skin. Black would consider itself evil. And, deep down, everything has a streak of compassion. I should know. Wasn't I cursed to know human nature?"
By the end of her monologue, the childish face had regained its concern, the eerie voice filled with kindness again. When Nasuada finally brought herself to meet the violet eyes, she was forced to remember just how much this small child actually knew about life, but how little the girl had actually had a chance to experience. So what if she had a shining star underneath the dark bangs? She was like one of those wise men who never leave their homes. Would Nasuada, leader of the Varden, liege-lord to Eragon Shadeslayer, be comforted by a mere child?
"I don't know how you can say that. We are in a war with a man who is most definitely evil."
"Well, how can you say that? You know the stories better than I. He started out well. He went insane after his dragon died. He wasn't always evil. Just as you aren't. Just as everything isn't."
Yes. Yes she would.
(a)
Nasuada awoke to a slight rapping on the door. The dreams she had had were… amazing, to say the least. She had dreamed she had been comforted by the child with the shining brow, the child she had taken into her care since Angela decided to fight in the battle.
But as she looked to the child's empty bed, she wondered if that was really so impossible. She had been under so much stress lately, was it so impossible to believe that the past weeks had finally taken their toll, that the child who knew all the problems had decided to do something about them?
Tap, tap, tap.
As the rapping was starting to sound impatient, Nasuada figured that the time had come to answer the door.
"One moment, I'll be right there." Who is it? No one comes this early in the morning. No one except Angela, and she's busy today. Something about rare desert herbs…
Hastily pulling her robe around her, Nasuada opened her door, surprise showing on her usually detached face as Elva led in the herbalist, Angela.
Speak of the devil, and she shall appear… "Angela, what a surprise. Would you care to stay for breakfast?" Please say no, please say no…
"Oh, don't worry Nasuada; I won't impede my company a second longer than necessary. However, I was wondering, do you need Elva? Because I was thinking that perhaps I could borrow her for the day."
Of course she didn't really want an answer. Angela knew that both she and her charge were above the law. They just stayed because it was the only place they could pretend to be useful. The politeness was only a formality.
"Yes, you may take Elva with you for today. Following me around must get boring for her." Like she really cares. The child doesn't act like a child- she acts like an adult, only with a grim sense of humor- and a larger appetite.
After an uncomfortable goodbye, Nasuada watched the two leave with a twinge of envy- even though they were outcasts in every sense of the word, they had each other. She didn't even have that.
With that thought, Nasuada got dressed. She didn't want breakfast anymore- not alone, not in this mood. She chose a simple garment, one that she could train in if she so decided. One that the whole world would recognize her in, because of the dark skin showing.
As she walked away toward her people, she couldn't help but be bothered by her constant worries that should have been left in her bedroom. Why is this bothering me now? The tone of my skin has never bothered me before… Perhaps what Knurl said… Lady Nightstalker. Or is it because everyone seems to be alienating themselves…
As if on cue, her liege came into view. Even though he had been through a war, even though he had found out his father was the one who betrayed the Riders to Galbatorix, he still smiled. He still walked tall. He looked the youngest she had ever seen him, except for the two times she saw him before her father had been killed.
"Nasuada!" He shouted, causing half the court to turn to look at him. As she laughed, quietly, as he corrected himself, stuttering in his haste, "Mi-milady, would you mind if I dined with you this morning? I have some… private matters I would wish to discuss with you."
By the end of his request, he seemed back to himself. No more of the naïve, youthful Eragon; he was back to his fierce, wise, self. I would swear he was sixty years old, if I hadn't known that he was younger than me!
"Of course, Eragon, you may eat with me. I was just going to go ask company of King Orrin. But perhaps I would rather yours…"
The young man laughed, a loud, booming laugh, one you should find in a pub, not a teenager. That's the horror of war- everyone grows up too fast. Nasuada knew it was true- she knew that she did not act as the average nineteen year old would. But she also knew that at age sixteen she was not pretending to know more than her superiors. No, Nasuada- he was acting as any other man would. It wasn't his fault.
But no matter what she told herself, she found herself studying Eragon as they walked back to her tent, in companionable silence. He didn't seem any older than before- he still walked the same, he still whistled a tune that had come from the country village he had known his whole life. Other than the obvious changes that the elves had left on him, he looked the same. But the longer she looked, more of the little differences seemed to show themselves- before the Battle of Du Farthen Dur, he had questioned himself. He had held himself strongly but not cockily. And now, he verged on that line. He was overconfident, looking out on the landscape as if he owned it, as if the men out there were as meaningless as ants, and he could show them how to do what needed to be done.
And yet, underneath the hard outer shell, she could see the old Eragon, the one who cared for everyone, who cried at her father's funeral, who had tried to bless a child. He still walked with an uncanny grace, only amplified by the elves' gift. Her father had called it his natural aptitude, a hunter's ability. And when he opened his mouth to comment on the weather, how if the cloud's in the West continued in and caused rain, she could hear the rough edges of his voice that had first led her to trust him. And, when she forgot to comment, he looked at her, and she saw for the first time a true resemblance between himself and Murtagh, in his eyes.
Damn tear reflex. I thought those hell waters had stopped.
"Milady, are you all right?"
"Of course Eragon. You know that I count you among my close friends?" So it's a good thing Murtagh's turned sides- think of how awkward it would be, following around a friend's brother like a love-sick puppy…
"Um, I guess milady. If you truly think so."
"Maybe you don't. Maybe I didn't, until moments ago. But, things have been truly stressful lately. I don't know how much more of this I can take."
"I know how you feel, milady." Silence. Maybe he still was young… "Look, your room. Do you still want my company?"
And maybe not. "Of course. And you had something you wanted to talk about?"
"Maybe it should wait, until after you've eaten."
He hadn't met her gaze during the whole conversation, apparently ruptured by first the door knob, then her shoes, and finally his. "Eragon? Do you want to come in?"
"Of course, milady. Of course."
(b)
They ate in silence, this one not as comfortable as the last. There were attempts at conversation, but each one was short, sharp, and lasted about two minutes apiece. Finally, after the longest meal Nasuada had had in a long time was finished, Eragon cleared his throat.
"Milady, you know of my brother, Roran, and the reason he came to the Varden?" After her nod of assent, he continued, "Well, he needs help. The Ra'zac are too powerful for a man to conquer- they would even give an elf trouble. So, we've decided that the only chance he has is if a Rider helps him. And, myself being the only Rider we know, we were wondering if perhaps you could let me accompany him to Helgrind."
This was not a question- even though he was her liege, he knew that he could probably find a way to leave, even if she refused him. So, he hadn't asked- he had stated their plan, and dared her to deny him. Because he knew she wouldn't- couldn't.
"Eragon, I would love to let you follow this, but don't you think that you may not be ready for this? The only reason they would have captured Katrina is that they think they will get something from it: since a village of poor farmers isn't going to be able to give them money, they were obviously expecting you to get involved. They have probably trained for the moment you cross onto their territory for weeks, if not months, and you'll be playing things by ear. Besides, hasn't the last close encounter you've had with the Raza'ac been enough to convince you that this is not just a game you're playing to save the world?"
"What do you mean, I'm not ready? I've been training for this moment my whole life! How, when I finally have a chance to destroy the creatures who killed my uncle and the man who was like a father to me, can you possibly deny me this opportunity?"
Ah. Nasuada was afraid of this. After his tantrum, there would undeniably be a string of curses.
As he turned red, the predicted swears flew from his mouth.
"Eragon! I will let you go, but you have to learn to control your temper. There is no way that the Ra'zac will stand still while you insult their dignity and mothers. And, remember that the only reason I am letting you go is because you promised Roran. I would hate to be the one to tell him that he has to wait a few more months to rescue his beloved."
As he bowed out of the room, Nasuada could barely hear the young man say, "Thank you, milady. I will go tell Roran that we can leave in the morning. He will be pleased."
Why couldn't he talk like a normal sixteen year old? Why did he have to talk like an old man, unlike even people like Jormundur talked everyday? It was the fault of the war, of the king, of death. They should all decease. Or desist. Or better: both.
(c)
As the day turned to dusk, Lady Nightstalker could still be seen roaming the campfires, walking through her people, trying to calm them when need be, trying to keep the peace through the restless soldiers. There had been a few scuffles throughout the day, but everything was subdued- rumors where flying through the camp, rumors that their one hope was deserting them in their time of greatest need. Rumors that the heroes of the Battle of the Burning Plains were running and hiding from the king. From the opposing Rider.
Rumors. Why do they exist? Thought an exasperated Nasuada as she explained to yet another distraught soldier as she explained that Lord Eragon was not running from a fight, but rather to one. One that he will lose.
"You mustn't think that way, my esteemed leader. The people will pick up on it eventually."
Why did she have to pick now to become available? "Elva, what are you doing by yourself?" What are you doing bothering me? "Where's Angela?"
"Here, of course," came a brisk answer from behind her. As she spun around, she felt the small woman-child move past her to walk in the same direction as Angela. "I'm going to tell a story to the people who would wish to hear it."
"Milady, you should come, it would help to calm you."
Why did that mere child have to know everything she was thinking? Did she not feel the tension people automatically acquired when she read their most innermost desires?
Obviously so. The child had just thrown up. And then looked to Nasuada with those chilling indigo eyes. "Yes, Elva. I will come." Anything to escape that gaze.
After walking for about fifteen minutes, they came upon a fire that was encircled with about twenty-five people. They all stood upon seeing Nasuada, and looked warily upon the trailing Elva. After the three had sat down, the rest of the company relaxed a little bit. Nasuada recognized people from all over- from the dwarven clans, the young men who had lost their wits in battle and switched sides at the beginning, and the women and children from Carvahall. Directly across the fire, she saw Orik, Roran, and Eragon, all of whom were looking more than a little strained.
Within minutes, complete darkness had fallen over the camp, and more people had joined the circle that Angela was leading. After another few minutes, silence had fallen over the entire camp, which seemed to Nasuada to be surrounding this campfire. As the embers dwindled low, someone put more dry wood onto the blaze.
As the wood cracked with heat, Angela opened her mouth. The tone and texture of her voice matched that of the fire mere feet in front of her. She didn't look at the crowd around her, but instead at the darkening sky above her, just starting to mark itself with stars.
"The sky. It's one of the things in this world that are truly beautiful. No one knows exactly what it is, or how it came to be. It's incredible, mysterious, but rarely grave. In the sun, it stretches on forever, sometimes dotted by the glistening clouds, but always the clearest of blues, different hues and shades every time you look to it. Even in the rain, when it's shrouded, it can strike a nerve in the coldest man's heart. Even gray, layered, and constantly shifting; even fierce and gloomy, it can make an immortal feel insignificant. And at night, when it's the darkest of all blues, nearly black, stained by blindingly bright stars or covered in black clouds, we recognize it for what it is. True. Not afraid to show the slightest emotion. Beautiful."
At this, she switched her gaze from the heavens to the leaping flames in front of her.
"Throughout the lifetime of man, few have been gifted with the power of the sky. There were legends of the chosen, legends that were told around the campfire to entice young children to sleep. But those who told them died out, as all things must. Thankfully, the myth still exists for those who choose to seek it.
"The ones with the gift are not obvious to the untrained eye, but if you are familiar with the mark, then they are effortless to spot. You see, the power is in the eyes. These eyes do not constantly change, as the sky does, but only when the emotions of the holder are stronger than usual, when the need is greatest. The eyes will remain the color truest to the holder, whether they be darkest night or lightest day. They can range anywhere from the white of the dawn in the East or the orange of the twilight in the West. But, these people are special for another reason; they have been selected to do wondrous things. Their names reflect the face of the sky that will come to them in their one time of need. Few of them know of their destinies- even fewer survive past adolescence to test their strength against the world.
"You see, not only were these children of the clouds chosen for greatness, they must be tested to endure the greatness. While one unworthy will not be given the eye, one unable might be. So their lives are horrid, from the day they're born. There will be little joys, small victories, but until the child is of age, is no longer a child, they will be tested to the end of their strength, will, and hope.
"The gifts were given and shaped by those of the Grey Folk, masters of the spell. When they disappeared, they passed on their secrets to a select few of the Fair Folk that roamed our world at that time, who then gave their gifts to the other two races of man. Dwarf, elf and human all held the gifts. But because of the terrible ordeal their children have been forced through, the number of the chosen has dwindled. The few left have an ancestry of strong men and women, men and women who were able to withstand the ordeal of time, who have been able to pass the sky on to their children, and their children's children, until, as legend goes, the end of time.
"However, the end appears to be closer than ever before, for there are but three known holders of the gift. One from each of the ancient races- one elf, who has sworn off the race of men; one dwarf, who has proven unable to sire; and one human, who is such a monster that we can only hope that he never shall. The chances of survival of the races of man are slim, unless an unknown benefactor steps forward, because, with the dire circumstances, I fear that it will be the only chance of survival. I will hope, and pray, as all of you should, that somewhere, there is a fourth. That they are pure of heart. That they have escaped Fate. That the bones have been cast wrong."
With that, the witch stood, and with a quick glance around the fire that seemed to pierce everyone at the same time, walked slowly into the night.
No, she was walking to her tent. She can't just disappear into the night… And what does he want? Eragon slowly ambled his way over to Nasuada, obviously deep in thought. Haven't I had enough of idiots crying to me all night long?
Oh, Nasuada- don't think like that… he's just a child. And yet, the child acted so much like her grandfather, she didn't know how to respond to him. He stopped a few feet in front of her, and still looking at his shoes, he started talking, "Milady, I've been thinking," Big surprise there… No, Nasuada, be nice! "And, I just wanted you to know, our hope is not lost."
"Excuse me?" This has got to be interesting…
"Well, the story just said that the races of man are doomed, and they aren't, because they have a Rider-"
"Eragon! I know you are important to our survival, but do you really think that you are the only factor in it?"
"Of course not- I couldn't do anything without the common people. But, anyways, you shouldn't believe such children tales. We believe that there is no external force in the world, such as sky gods- hah! - and that we control our own fate, our-"
"You do realize you're not an elf, don't you? You simply look like one- on the inside, you're still the poor country boy who stumbled upon a pretty stone while hunting."
"Do you truly believe that? I have changed so much since that moment when I found Saphira's stone. I'm not even the same person, really."
"Okay, Eragon. If you don't mind, I'm going to find Elva, and we are going to go to bed. Good night and good luck on your journey. You'll be wanting to eave early in the morning, and I'm not sure I'll be awake yet. I will send someone after you if you're not back within the week. Farewell, Lord Shadeslayer."
"Yes, milady. Farewell."
As she turned, Nasuada ran into the child with the chining brow. After a quick exclaimed "Oh!", they turned, and she led Elva into the direction of their tent. After a few moments of silence, disrupted only by the sounds of the child coughing occasionally, Elva said, in her alarming voice, "Milady, you did the right thing. He needs to find himself- not be who everyone wants him to be. Because, that's impossible. If he tries any harder, he'll be somebody that no one wants him to be."
Was it wrong to feel better because of a child who knows how to make anyone feel better at any given time? As she looked to the deep blue sky, the one that seemed to twinkle down on her, telling her that she wasn't a horrible person, that everything would turn out all right, she answered, quietly, solemnly, "Thank you."
No. No it wasn't.
Now, if I do say so myself, that was a long chapter. Now please, review and tell me if it was good long or bad long. Just so I know.
And I know that both chapters have had All American Rejects, but that won't happen often. Like ever again. Not that I don't like All American Rejects… but yes, I know. I could do sooo much better. But not for this chapter. Or last one. XD
Alohas!
