Violets and Violence - Chapter Four: Shadeheart
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Hours passed in relative silence as Eragon moved through his studies, first enjoying the constance and fluidity of the Rimgar and then a brief – very brief – mock battle with Oromis, merely to ensure that his morning spats opposite Vanir had been keeping his swordsmanship at top form. His affliction only acted up once during the duel, and he was relieved that it didn't grow any worse.

Next came his meditation in the forest, from which he gleaned little but relished it all the same. He was truly grateful for the isolation and quietude; it allowed him to release the tension that his disfigurement had bred within him. By the time his hour was up, he felt refreshed and calm.

All through this, and during his practicing of magic immediately following, Elva observed in silence, as did Arya and Orik from nearby. Taking care not to allow too much of his attention to wander from his apprenticeship, he observed their interactions out of the corner of his eye. Arya mostly ignored her, and he attributed the occasional annoyed look on Elva's face to this – and perhaps the fact that Arya possessed one of the most impenetrable minds on Alagaësia, which meant less entertainment value for the youngster. Orik, on the other hand, displayed visible unease; he most certainly shared his opinion of Elva as being disturbing, crude, and often playfully vindictive. Every few minutes, he would shift slightly to one side in the direction opposite the girl, pulling at his beard.

"Shiningbrow, if you would join us?" Elva did as Oromis bade her, staring at her slippered feet as they shuffled along the ground. "Good. Eragon-finiarel, how would you suggest we proceed with her training in the ways of gramarye?"

"Me?" he gulped. When no one spoke again, he thought on it. "A pebble?"

"Hmm," the elf said with a smile. "As dependable a start as any."

Shrugging to himself, Eragon strode briskly to a nearby stream and plucked a smooth, flat stone no bigger than the tip of his pinky and returned. He glanced at his master for approval, then held the tiny object out to his tiny charge. "Here."

"It's not even my birthday," she said in bored tones as she accepted the pebble. "What is this meant for?"

"Try lifting it with your mind," he instructed, reflecting on Brom's words to him so many long months prior. "In the ancient language, you'll say-"

"Stenr reisa." When he blinked, she snickered. "You're neglecting your mental barricades. Ebrithil, are you sure you want me learning from this neophyte?"

"You will if you wish to learn anything at all," Oromis snapped. "And in future, you shall also address Eragon as Ebrithil, or Master."

"I'll do nothing of the sort." Without warning, she found herself on the flat of her back, staring up at the tip of Oromis's boot. "What treachery is-!"

"Words of wisdom before fools are like pearls before swine. You try my patience, child. Shall we continue to endure your incessant sourness, or shall we enlighten ourselves?"

"I apologize, Ebrithil," she whispered, browbeaten and dejected.

"We know not if even you can learn other forms of magic," Oromis continued as he stepped away, and Elva scrambled to her feet. "Therefore, the more you delay, the less time we'll be able to devote to discerning whether or not this is an exercise in futility. Eragon?"

Startled at being addressed again, he bent near her and looked into her eyes. There he beheld skepticism and dread; she did not believe she could do anything more than she had already demonstrated, and hated the idea of failing under the watchful eyes of not one, but four observers. Therefore, despite her outbursts, his voice was gentle when he said, "Focus is key. Letting anything else distract from the task at hand will only make the task seem more burdensome, which causes it to be so. Clear your mind, focus... and push through to the magic within."

"This is absurd." But she tried anyway. Hours passed with no results, and as she continued he moved on past his own magical tests and began transcribing words in the ancient language within the hut. At long last, when the hour grew late and it was nearing the time when Saphira would return with Glaedr, he heard a shout from outside.

Oromis and Eragon entered the yard to find Elva goggling downward, panting. When they neared, Eragon spied the stone she had been training with in the dirt. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"It moved!"

Eragon hid a smile by coughing. "Did it, now?"

"Don't act so superior," she bit out at him. "Can you not see how terrified I am of this? I caused a stone to take to the air with nothing more than the power of thought!"

"She did at that," Orik grunted, stomping over. "Saw it myself. Beginner's magic to be sure, but it was plain as the beard on my face."

"Wonderful," Oromis announced, a pleasant but not overly-shocked look upon his fair features. "Then we shall continue her instruction in this fashion. Every day henceforth shall she train alongside us, mastering the basics while Eragon furthers his own studies. Perhaps by the time his road is at its end, she will have acquired a rudimentary grasp of magics and their applications."

"Congratulations, Argetbrun," Arya told her, stiffly but not without some cheer.

"Silver Brow?" Eragon shot Elva a warning look, but she merely blinked at him. Meanwhile, he noticed Arya scowling in the background, irritated both at Elva and at herself for allowing her defenses to lapse. "It was only on the surface; I didn't have to delve any further to translate the term."

"Methinks this stone is cracked," Orik grumbled under his breath as he turned away.

Before she could form a retort, the dragons appeared in the sky, slowly descending upon the crags. As per usual, Eragon and Saphira were both quizzed by their masters about what their partner had learned, and they answered with casual ease; their connection was now solid enough that they had hardly to strain at all to share in each other's experiences. Just before Eragon and Elva mounted the smaller dragon, Oromis tossed the pebble toward them; Eragon caught it reflexively.

"As you wish, Ebrithil." Oromis inclined his head, and then they were away.

"So what am I missing?" Elva asked over the rush of wind in their ears. "Because I can feel you guarding your minds against me, so I'm reduced to asking silly questions."

"Oromis wants me to make sure you keep practicing throughout the evening, much as Brom did with me. This early on, constant practice of a simple spell will be more beneficial than intense instruction followed by periods of rest. You're going to lift this rock over and over until it's as easy as breathing."

"Why?" she whimpered.

"Because. And aren't we forgetting something?"

At first, she only blinked, then turned in the saddle to glare at him. "Oh, no. A thousand times, no – you haven't a prayer of holding me to it. All the gold in Urû'baen wouldn't be enough to make m- AAH!"

Saphira's sudden dive seemed to negate her protests. Once they had leveled out, a windswept Elva stuttered, "Y-yes, Master."

That's more disturbing than her open disrespect, Saphira observed.

I agree... but it was Oromis's decree, and as I am still his student I would be lacking in my own duties if I let her get away with lacking in hers.

"Stop that whispering behind my back!"

"Really riles you, doesn't it?" he laughed. She refused to speak with him for the remainder of the trip home.

-0-0-0-0-0-

It took the better part of the evening before Elva could maintain her spell with enough force to keep the pebble from quivering, and then only for an instant before it fell back to her hand. More often than not, she jerked away as it fell, frightened that she had done spellwork and thus wary of letting the enchanted object touch her. This left her winded, surly and cantankerous.

"I don't want any dinner."

"But it's been freshly baked," he insisted, holding a loaf of bread in front of her face. "Mmm..."

"I'll inform you of what you may do with that loaf," she began ominously.

"Come now, I know you feel exhausted. Practicing magic for a new user is like swimming across the seas. Eat, it will bolster your strength."

"I do not feel exhausted," she lied. "You forget I've been using magic since I was an infant, O Blesser. This is but a trifle."

"A trifle you worked all evening on?"

"Very well, Master." She snatched the bread from him, tore off a chunk too large for her mouth and chewed, allowing large crumbs to spill everywhere. From behind this, she grinned broadly and waggled her eyebrows, as if demanding he find fault with her table manners. Therefore, he didn't.

"Good, it's settled; finish eating and leave the tray by the door. They'll whisk it away when they bring us our morning meal."

"Whg-" In a rush, she gulped down the bread, choked for a moment before washing it down with spring water, then asked, "Wait, where the devil are you off to?"

"Evening stroll. You, however, will stay here and persist with your stone."

"But you're supposed to keep an eye on me at all times," she said incredulously. "How shall you do that if I'm all alone?"

"I trust you'll survive," he told her drily.

Elva frowned at him, dropping the loaf on the table. "I grow weary of toying with rocks. Why should I even learn magic to begin with? The solitary skill I've already perfected is the only one of interest to me. What use have I for lifting pebbles or creating spheres of water?"

"You betray your immaturity," he whispered, and she blanched. Changing tactics, she flung herself into his lap.

"I can think of a dozen better ways to spend this night, Shadeslayer."

"Think on them all you like," he grunted as he lifted her and placed her back into her seat. "As long as you're thinking while practicing."

"You overbearing, arrogant boor!" But in the end, she did as she was told.

-0-0-0-0-0-

Days passed, and the commencement of the Agaetí Blödhren neared. Eragon dreaded this date with all his heart, for he knew Arya would be departing for the Varden camp upon its completion. His time to lessen the gaping expanse between them drew short.

Luckily for he – and for the epic poem he was drafting for the festivities – Elva proved herself confounded by the pebble. The time came when it no longer wobbled in the air and lifted instantly, but she could not maintain her spell for more than a few seconds. She would become frustrated to the point of tears and retreat into the dining room, sprawling upon her sleeping cushion.

One such eve, Eragon joined her, after looking over his poem yet again and correcting a few grammatical errors he'd encountered. She started at his arrival, then turned away. "Leave me."

"Aren't you forgetting-"

"I forget nothing!" After a few tense moments of silence, she sniffled, "I can't do this."

"Can't do what, Shiningbrow?"

"I'll start calling you Master if you call me Shiningbrow – and I know how much you hate it, which is why I've only bothered in the presence of others."

"How did you know I hate- nevermind, it's too obvious an answer." She tensed when his hand graced her back, then gripped the cushion tighter. "What is it?"

"The magic escapes me." A choked sob slipped out before she was able to master herself. "I have been overtaxing my abilities, and for what? A dry well of energy, and naught to show for it. I'm no sorceress, no wizard... nothing. I'm nothing."

"You aren't." When she laughed harshly, he went on, "Elva, you have more power open to you in your first year of life than most do until their very deaths. Do not spit upon what you've been given."

"But you're so certain I can push beyond my boundaries and flourish under your supervision. This is not the case; no matter who is or isn't watching, I fail."

"I'm certain of nothing," he admitted weakly, rubbing her back gently as she wept. "Only that you'll surely fail if you don't so much as try. Perhaps you'll never be a mighty magician, but don't you want to find out what you are and aren't capable of?"

"No."

"Come now..."

For a long while the room was silent. Then, with startling speed, she had him pinned to the floor by his shoulders, her pearly tears falling onto his face. He braced for another uncouth remark or a wandering hand he would need to roust, but instead her face scrunched in upon itself.

"Eragon... d-do you... do you think I'm beautiful?"

His brow knitted. "Sorry?"

"Answer." When his jaw set and he made to throw her off, displeased that she was up to her old harassments after all, she shook her head hurriedly. "N-no, I- please, I'm trying sincerity for a change of pace. Truth: am I a horror to look upon?"

"Elva-"

"Answer me!" When he didn't, she pounded her fists into his shoulders and bit her lip, then whispered, "The stares I weather... everyone thinks I'm diseased, a scourge walking in their midst. Who the devil cares? Their opinions mean less to me than those of earthworms. But yours..."

When he reached a hand up to yank her into his chest, she did not resist, and continued sobbing once she'd landed. "Hush now. You mustn't think like that, allright? Just... don't worry about them. There isn't anything wrong with you."

"Liar."

"Okay, perhaps there are things about you that are... unusual." Here she laughed at him wetly. "But what of them? I am the only free Rider, and Saphira the only dragon with less than several centuries of experience under her belt. Oromis is The Cripple Who Is Whole, a man who commanded great power than has been severed at his core. We are all of us different."

"But you aren't UGLY!" she shouted through his tunic and into his very bones. "My brow shines, my poisonous eyes haunt, and my voice makes flesh crawl and stomachs undulate! I know! I know how they view me, Eragon, I am not so blinded – I have felt their disgust! They see me, and they see evil incarnate – a ruined vessel with a Shade's heart, stalking by them and readying to bring about the end of days! They hate me, as do I! It's all they could possibly do, isn't it?"

His arms ensnared her with crushing weight, and he dropped his chin upon her crown. "Shh," he said in a voice thick with empathy. "Do not speak of this anymore, I'll... I won't hear it. Not about one of my friends."

"Shut it!" she growled. "Since when have you counted me among your friends?"

He decided not to lie to her; that was worse than the truth. "Since now."

For a long while she cried, shrieking and shuddering and wringing out every drop of emotion she had left. Eragon could not help but shed a few tears of his own along the way. Her coughing fits alarmed him, and eventually the point came where she needed to be sick so he hurried her to the washing closet and held back her long raven locks while she ejected her supper. When she was through, he fetched her some cold water and she sipped at it, eyes sunken and cheeks stained with tears.

"Are you going to be allright now?"

She flashed him a tired, lopsided smile. "I'm more than used to it, believe you me." A few seconds later, "Thank you. I didn't... I was overcome. It won't happen again, Master."

"Listen, Elva-"

"You are my Master," she insisted. "Because of tonight, when you shepherded your student, did not allow her to go astray and lose herself in misery. I readily accept this apprenticeship now, and apologize for my earlier resistance."

"Stop being so formal about it," he told her uncomfortably; no matter how long it had been since Oromis proclaimed him in charge of her magical education, he still was unable to get used to being anything other than a student himself. "Just... do what I tell you, as far as magic is concerned. At all other times, we can be as we were."

A quick nod, and she took another long draught. "Then may I ask a question, Master?"

"Anything."

"Does it always take this long to get a pebble to float?"

He grinned at her. "It does, and then it doesn't. Would you... welcome a journeyman Rider's opinion?"

"Anything to get over this impasse," she groaned quietly.

"You've been holding yourself back. From what I've seen, I think you're afraid of achieving anything that might mean you must achieve more; of becoming a worthy magician rather than a waif who loses her luncheon when others are near to danger. It's all you've known so far, and straying from it... well, it's a bit like I felt leaving Carvahall, wandering with Brom. When I finally made peace with the fact that it had to be done, the trail became less taxing and more exciting."

"Pretty words," she said, swiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. "Are they true?"

"I expect so," he told her in the ancient language, and she pursed her lips, so he continued in her tongue, "All."

A tiny nod as she stood, placing the cup on the table. "Then tonight... I shall try once more with my stone. And every night from now until time stops, I'll struggle until I achieve something more satisfactory for you, my Ebrithil."

For the first time, he felt color rising in his cheeks when talking with Elva without the accompanying nausea. "Ah, p-please, Eragon will do. When not in Oromis's presence, that is."

The corners of her eyes crinkled, but she did not further taunt him. "As you wish, Master," she breathed before retrieving her stone and settling herself upon the floor, staring at it with spectacular concentration. There she stayed late into the night.

~~~~~
To Be Continued

NOTE TIME: Today I finally finished Eldest, which means reviewers can let those Book Two spoilers fly free – starting Brisingr soon and I can't wait. I'm lucky enough to have a job that lets me read about 50 pages per shift while on the clock (it's a really boring job so without a book I'd go crazy)! It's about the only time I get to read too, so I'm grateful for that even if it doesn't pay much.