A/N:
I'm a tired Susie...
But, no matter how tired I am, I will not own Inheritance. At all. Even slightly.
The next morning, Yuna found herself at the training grounds sparring with the bravest of the men. There weren't many who would try their blade against hers but those who did often came back for more, ensuring a steady stream of competitors.
"Dead," she said, her breathing labored as she leveled her sword at a man's throat. "How many was that?"
"Nineteen," Fredric called back, his voice faltering slightly.
This was the newest game. After being able to defeat many of the men individually in less than a minute, Fredric had challenged her to take on groups of willing men. It was difficult because she couldn't actually use deadly force and she'd have to heal any damage she accidentally caused afterwards, sapping her strength for the next round.
Yuna took a steadying breath as she turned to Fredric.
"Now if only Arya would come out here," she chuckled. "Then I might be able to get some real practice in."
"Come on, Yuna, you've already beat the men. Don't make fun of them," a familiar voice called. Yuna turned, a smile on her face that grew even broader as she saw the quickly approaching trio.
"Eragon, Saphira, Orik!" she called happily. She waved goodbye to Fredric and left to meet the three in the middle. "What are you guys doing here?"
"Hrothgar wishes to speak to you and Eragon, if you are free," Orik said. Yuna chuckled, shaking her head slowly.
"For the forty-second dwarf king? I think I can pencil him in," Yuna joked. Orik laughed under his breath, smiling under his beard.
"He will be pleased to hear that," he said playfully. Arget greeted the dwarf with a friendly growl and Orik bowed his head. "Good morning to you as well."
Orik led them quickly back to Tronjheim, taking a side passageway to avoid seeing the destroyed Isidar Mirthrim's sad remains. The granite doors to the throne room were once again guarded by fourteen dwarves who simultaneously pounded the floor with the hafts of their mattocks. The doors swung open and Orik nodded to the four, ushering them inside.
Though feeling slightly hurried, Yuna and Eragon entered, flanked by Arget and Saphira. They advanced through the dim room, passing the forty-one statues of past kings and the empty alcoves that await future kings. At the foot of the solid black throne, both Eragon and Yuna bowed. The dwarf king inclined his head in returned, the rubies on his golden helm glinting dully in the light. Volund, the ancient war hammer, lay across his mail-sheathed legs.
"Shadeslayer, Yunalesca, welcome to my hall. You have done much since last we met. I was pleased to hear that Morzan's blade has been replaced. May I see the new blade?" the king asked, a curious edge to his voice. Eragon stepped closer to the throne, drawing his blade before resting it in his hands as he held it up to the king. Hrothgar accepted it and studied it curiously.
"What was used to forge the blade?" Hrothgar asked, looking now to Yuna.
"An alloy I crafted using titanium, copper, and lead," Yuna reported. "I made my own blade using the same alloy and gave the rest to the dwarf who allowed me to use his forge."
"Yes, I heard about that. Many of our smiths have tried to recreate this alloy, but all attempts have been unsuccessful," Hrothgar informed the girl, still studying the blade in his hand. "We had been told of your experience in smithwork, but not of your talent."
"I was lucky enough to have a skilled master. I couldn't forge so much as a nail without his teachings," Yuna said, bowing her head. Hrothgar nodded slowly.
"This is exceptional work. Shadeslayer, you would do well not to lose this blade," Hrothgar said, handing the blade back to its owner. Yuna beamed at his words; Hrothgar was from a clan famous for their metalworking. His compliment was extremely valuable.
"Thank you," she said as Eragon rejoined her.
"Also," Hrothgar rumbled, still speaking to Eragon, "we wish you to keep the armor you wore in the battle of Farthen Dûr. Even now our most skilled smiths are repairing it. The dragon armor is being treated likewise, and when it is restored, Saphira and Arget may use it for as long as they wish, or until they outgrow it. This is the least we can do to show our gratitude. If it weren't for the war with Galbatorix, there would be feasts and celebrations in your name... but those must wail until a more appropriate time."
"You are generous beyond all expectations. We will cherish such noble gifts," Eragon said wholeheartedly.
"There are no words I can give in return for your praise on Saoirse. It means more than any feast or celebration could represent, though I will gladly look forward to the day when we can celebrate Galbatorix's downfall," Yuna agreed.
Though he was clearly pleased, Hrothgar's expression twisted into a scowl.
"We cannot linger on pleasantries, though. I am besieged by the clans with demands that I do one thing or another about Ajihad's successor. When the Council of Elders proclaimed yesterday that they would support Nasuada, it created an uproar the likes of which I haven't seen since I ascended to the throne. The chiefs had to decide whether to accept Nasuada or look for another candidate. Most have concluded that Nasuada should lead the Varden, but I wish to know where you stand on this before I lend my word to either side. The worst thing a king can do is look foolish."
"Saphira and I have agreed to help her. We won't oppose her ascension. And I plead that you do the same; the Varden can't afford to fight among themselves. They need unity."
Hrothgar leaned back at Eragon's words, his eyes turning to Yuna. She spoke carefully, especially since Eragon didn't feel the need to do so.
"I believe that Nasuada would be a very capable leader. Her loyalty to her father and the Varden pressed her to remain and fight even when her peers ordered her away. Thanks to her upbringing, she has not only the delicate tactfulness required for a success in politics, she seems wise though she is not much older than I. Arget and I are supporting her wholeheartedly."
"That relieves me," Hrothgar nodded. "There has been too little concern lately about what is right and good and more about what will bring individual power. It is hard to watch such idiocy and not be angry."
A silence fell in the throne room that grew increasingly uncomfortable as time dragged on.
"What will be done with the dragonhold? Will a new floor be laid down?"Eragon was the first to break it, though he soon after regretted his words as Hrothgar's eyes grew mournful, the lines around his eyes deepening. He seemed exceptionally vulnerable and, when he finally spoke, his words were quiet.
"Much talk is needed before that step can be taken. It was a terrible deed, what was done. Maybe necessary, but terrible. Ah, it might have been better if the urgals had overrun us before Isidar Mirthrim was ever broken. The heart of Tronjheim has been shattered, and so has ours." Hrothgar placed a fist over his breast.
Saphira touched Eragon's mind, her thoughts emanating her remorse and guilt.
Little one, she spoke to Eragon. I need to speak with Hrothgar. Ask him: Do the dwarves have the ability to reconstruct Isidar Mirthrim out of the shards?
Eragon obeyed, though not quite sure why. Once he was finished, Hrothgar began muttering in Dwarvish before speaking to the four.
"The skill we have, but what of it? The task would take months or years, and the end result would be a ruined mockery of the beauty that once graced Tronjheim! It is an abomination I will not sanction." Saphira's eyes did not once leave the king.
Now tell him: If Isidar Mirthrim were put together again, with not one piece missing, I believe I could make it whole once more.
Eragon's jaw fell open in shock and Yuna's brow furrowed in confusion.
Do you know what she is saying? she asked Arget the silver dragon shook his head slowly.
Saphira! The energy that would require! You told me yourself that you can't use magic at will, so what makes you sure you can do this?
I can do it if the need is great enough. It will be my gift to the dwarves. Remember Brom's tomb; let that wash your doubt away. And close your mouth- it's unbecoming and the king and Yuna are watching.
Eragon finally repeated the offer and Hrothgar straightened as now Yuna gaped at her. She recovered quickly when Arget prodded her thoughts.
Tell Hrothgar that the debt is mine to pay as well. Isidar Mirthrim will be whole once more if I have anything to do with it.
Yuna sighed and looked to Saphira.
"Arget will join you in this endeavor," she announced.
"Then we will rebuild Isidar Mirthrim, no matter if it takes a hundred years. We will assemble a frame for the gem and set each piece into its original place. Not a single chip will be forgotten. Even if we must break the larger pieces to move them, it will be done with all our skill in working stone, so that no flecks or dust are lost. You will come then, when we are finished, and heal the Star Rose."
"We will come," Eragon and Yuna agreed in unison. Neither had seen the dwarf king so happy.
"Such joy you have given me," he said. "I feel once more a reason to rule and live. If you do this, dwarves everywhere will honor your names for uncounted generations. Go now with my blessings while I spread the tidings among the clans. And do not feel bound to wait upon my announcement, for no dwarf should be denied this news; convey it to all whom you meet. May the halls echo with the jubilation of our race."
They were dismissed after one final bow, leaving the aged king still beaming on his uncomfortably quarried throne. Once out of that hall, they told Orik of what had transpired and the dwarf immediately bent and kissed the ground before both Saphira and Arget.
"A wonder indeed!" he said, rising with a grin. "You have given us exactly the hope we needed to combat recent events There will be drinking tonight, I wager!"
"And tomorrow is the funeral," Eragon said, immediately killing the happy mood.
"Tomorrow, yes," Orik agreed dully before grinning again. "But until then we shall not let unhappy thoughts disturb us! Come!"
Orik dragged the humans through Tronjheim, the dragons following close behind, into a great feast hall where many dwarves sat scattered around the room around stone tables. Orik leapt onto a table and, in a booming voice, proclaimed the news of Isidar Mirthrim. Immediately the dwarves scrambled; a deafening chorus of cheers and shouts rose in the air as they all ran to kissing the floor before the dragons' claws. When they had finally finished praising the two- for now- they abandoned their food and filled their tankards with beer and mead.
Eragon joined the celebrations with an abandon that surprised him and made Yuna roll her eyes. She was careful to avoid alcohol for the entire night. She shuddered to think what could happen if both she and Eragon were horribly hung over during Nasuada's ascension to leadership.
Saphira was eventually convinced to try some mead and, finding that she liked it, a barrel of the liquid was brought out for her. She drained it in just three gulps before tilting her head toward the ceiling and loosing a giant tongue of flame. After several minutes in which Eragon convinced the dwarves she was safe to approach again, they brought her another barrel against the cook's protests and watched as she drained it as well.
Saphira somehow convinced Arget into trying the mead as well. Yuna did not appreciate the enhanced emotions and senses that drifted into her mind with more and more force as he discovered his own fondness for mead. Even so, she avoided anything that could impair her senses or, more importantly, her judgment. After a while, she completely shut him out of her mind, though the absence of his presence made her feel strangely hollow.
The dwarves began to sing together, their voices loud and merry as they stumbled over the words. Arget and Saphira joined along, alternating between humming and roaring to punctuate the words. Eragon joined in as his judgment faded, though his voice was slow and ragged with drink.
Dwarves continued to pour into the feast hall as the news spread like wildfire. Soon enough, hundreds were celebrating, forming a thick ring around Eragon, Saphira, and Arget. Yuna watched from the sidelines as musicians streamed in as well, adding harps, flutes, and lutes into the excitement.
Time began to drag on and Yuna turned to leave, getting tired of the ceaseless party. She was almost at the door when a hand grabbed her wrist. Her hand flew to a dagger before she recognized her assailant.
"Eragon," she said, surprised. His eyes were slightly out of focus and a faint blush highlighted his cheekbones. His hair was out of sorts, brushed this way and that haphazardly.
"Come join the party," he said, his words slurred. Yuna sighed.
"You, Eragon, are very very drunk," she told him in a matter-of-fact tone. "And you have two options. You can come with me and hopefully sober up before tomorrow or you can go back in there and continue to make a fool out of yourself."
"But I love you," he slurred. He tried to take a step towards her but lost his balance. Yuna stepped forward, catching him before he hit the ground. Eragon only chuckled.
"Wow, you are gone," Yuna said, shaking her head. She straightened him, leaning him against the wall for good measure.
"And you are..." Eragon paused, thinking hard. "Pretty," he decided finally.
"That's it; I am never letting you so much as think about alcohol again," she groaned. "Honestly. You're going to be complaining about this all day tomorrow and I won't be able to do a damn thing because-"
His lips were suddenly on hers. She began kissing him back before pausing and pushing him away abruptly.
"What is it?" he asked, swaying. Yuna groaned.
"You don't know what you're doing, Eragon."
"Yeah, I do," he said, his voice growing louder.
"No, you-"
"I love you," he repeated, louder. Yuna sighed patiently.
"Not quite the time I've ever wanted to hear those words," she grumbled to herself. She stood, hoisting Eragon to his feet. "Alright, now. Let's get you out of here before you do anything stupid-"
"Hear, hear!" Orik shouted, jumping onto a table again. He had a half-full tankard in one hand, his legs were separated to keep him balanced, and his iron cap was askew atop his head. "At last we have celebrated as is proper. The urgals are gone, the Shade is dead, and we have won!"
The dwarves pounded on their tables in approval.
"But let's not forget the riders who made it happen! To Eragon and Saphira!" Orik shouted. "To Yuna and Arget!"
Eragon pulled away from Yuna and bowed, earning more cheers from the crowd. Further away, still in the ring, Saphira reared and swung a foreleg across her chest, attempting to imitate his move. She tottered and the dwarves, realizing the danger, scurried away from her. With a loud whoosh, Saphira fell backward, landing against a banquet table.
Yuna watched as Eragon tensed before falling to the ground, motionless and silent.
"Eragon? Eragon!" Yuna cried out, running to kneel next to him. She quickly checked him over before forcing a sigh of relief. She glanced up at the dwarves now gathering around him.
"A little too much mead," she reported, forcing a smile. The dwarves all laughed and began walking away, only to turn their attention, and consequently laugh at, Saphira, passed out on a banquet table. Arget was curled up beside the table, his eyes closed. His tail occasionally twitched, betraying his sleeping state.
Yuna groaned.
"This is why I don't drink," she moaned to Orik. The dwarf only laughed, mead sloshing out of his tankard, before rejoining the party.
A/N:
So... I really meant to upload this yesterday... O_O
Oh, wells
^.^ Susie ^.^
