Eragon's last few weeks have been a bit of a bummer.
Just three months back he had been an ordinary farm born, in an ordinary village, in a far-off corner of the empire that was too unimportant for anyone of note to really take an interest in.
Since then, his uncle Garrow had been murdered by monsters, and Eragon had sworn revenge on his killers, leaving behind the only home he has ever known.
All of this trouble began when Eragon found a blue stone – later discovered to be an egg – in the Spine. A Dragon hatched from the egg, and Eragon decided to hide it away in a nearby forest, raising it in secret.
He ended up naming the dragon Saphira.
When the Ra'zac came looking for the egg, their search led them to Eragon's home where the monsters killed Garrow.
It is reasonable to say that If he had never found the egg, or if he hadn't decided to keep the dragon, none of this tragedy would have happened.
Yet Eragon could not say that he wouldn't make those same choices again.
Oh he wished that he hadn't brought danger down upon his family, but he just couldn't imagine his life without Saphira anymore. They were connected in ways more intimate then Eragon had thought possible. Eragon could no more image his life without her, than he could imagine tearing out his own eyeballs.
He teamed up with a suspiciously knowledgeable storyteller named Brom. They left a note of warning for his cousin Roran to stay away from the Ra'zac if they were to return.
While on the road Brom taught him sword fighting - also giving him a really awesome magical sword that Brom had for some reason - and when Eragon discovers that he (Eragon) could do magic, Brom started instructing him in that as well.
As previously mentioned: suspiciously knowledgeable.
They tracked the Ra'zac across half the northern part of the empire, but eventually lost the trail when they discover the blasted things have flying mounts! Upon finding a flask of Seithr oil - An extremely corrosive substance used for assassination and torture, at least this variant of it – Eragon came up with a plan to continue the chase.
The substance is so rare and valuable that Eragon and Brom reasoned that there must be some records of where the stuff is being shipped off to, which would hopefully lead them to the Ra'zac.
Thus they traveled to Teirm, as it controls most of the trade in the empire, and Brom has an old friend named Jeod who lives there who could hopefully help them.
Which led them to where they were now; Talking to some crazy toad lady because they needed directions to Jeod's home.
"So when I prove that toads don't exist they won't be able to make peoples teeth fall out, cause warts or kill anyone. Also, no more evil magics and potions. This will save countless lives I tell you!" The woman argued animatedly, arms moving wildly about her to punctuate her words.
"I see." Brom nodded, as if what she said made perfect sense. "that sounds interesting, and I would love to hear more, but we really do need to meet Jeod."
"Of course." The woman waved them away, looking only slightly disappointed, and returned to writing on a piece of paper and occasionally glancing at the toad… frog…. Whatever.
Once they were out of earshot, Eragon said, "She's crazy!"
"It's possible," admitted Brom, "but you never know; she might discover something useful, so don't criticize. Who knows, toads might really be frogs."
"And you could be over a hundred years old, and that would less crazy," retorted Eragon.
Brom's lips twitched for some reason.
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When Eragon stepped onto the marble doorstep that led to Jeod's estate, the door flew open and a woman dressed in a black robe with dark purple sleeves bumped into him.
Out of reflex he reached out and grabbed her hand to prevent her falling.
Eragon's breath caught in his throat; she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
Thin and lean, she was on the short side; the top of her head coming up at just below his own neck. Her ivory white skin accentuated her full red lips, a faded lighting bold scar on her forehead was the only thing that marred her otherwise perfect face. Her silky black hair grew smoothly to just below her shoulder and Eragon wondered how it would feel to run his hand through them.
Her most noticeable feature were her eyes though; they were the most vivid green eyes he had ever seen, and held a energy in them that he had trouble explaining.
Eragon felt Saphira's amusement at his reaction through their bond.
"Sorry, didn't look where I was going there for a second," Eragon was surprised at how deep her voice was. It was nice to hear though, having a warm breathy quality to it. There was an unfamiliar accent to her words which made her voice sound sophisticated and light. That, combined with her fine clothes, added to the image of a lady of standing.
"uhm." Eragon responded eloquently, feeling the blood rushing to his cheeks.
'Say something, quickly,' Saphira prodded in his mind.
"You look nice," Eragon said in a tone of voice that sounded wooden, even to his own ears.
'Smooth.'
'Hush you.'
Judging by the amused smile that appeared on her face she wasn't creeped out or bothered. 'Thank goodness,' he thought.
"thank you," She said simply. Her eyes flicked downwards. Eragon didn't follow her gaze though, he was still too mesmerized by her eyes. "May I have my hand back please?"
It took him a moment to register that she had asked a question, he seemed to have trouble thinking clearly. "Your hand?"
"My hand. the one you're holding?" she retorted dryly.
His eyes finally moved downwards to notice that, yes, he was indeed holding her hand. Eragon let go of it as if it were on fire.
Brom decided to step in at this point and save him from any further embarrassment. "Does Jeod live here," he asked kindly.
"He sure does," she said, "I need to get going, see ye!" She waved as she moved away in a light jog.
Eragon looked wistfully at her retreating back.
Brom looked at him sharply. "Don't even think about it."
"Think what?" Eragon asked, looking confused.
"You know what I mean." Brom smirked briefly before his expression turned serious again. "A blind man could see how you were pining after her. She does 'look nice' as you put it, though a bit scrawny," Eragon had to bite down a retort that she was most certainly not scrawny! "But we are here to look for the Seithr oil, nothing else."
Eragon knew he was right, but that didn't stop him from feeling morose about it.
Brom knocked three times on the door. After only a short wait, a pale woman with light blond hair opened the door with a dramatic sigh.
"Dear you know you can just. . ." She stopped short when her eyes fell on them, and her expression immediately became guarded.
"Yes, can I help you?" She asked neutrally.
"We would like to talk to Jeod." Brom answered in his best polite and pleasant voice that made him so popular as a story teller in Carvahall.
"He is very busy, do you have an appointment?" She asked coolly.
"No, but we have traveled far, and it is very important that we speak with him," he insisted.
"He is very busy," She repeated, narrowing her eyes.
Brom's voice stayed charming despite the clear hostility. "Since he is unavailable, would you please give him a message?"
She gave him a small reluctant nod.
"Tell him that a friend from Gil'ead is waiting outside," Brom said.
The woman sighed tiredly "Very well," she said, and went back inside the house, closing the door behind her.
When her footsteps could no longer be heard Eragon decided to comment, "That wasn't very polite of her."
"Keep your opinions to yourself," snapped Brom. "And don't say anything. Let me do the talking." He crossed his arms and started tapping his fingers, waiting. Eragon, still feeling a bit chastised, kept silent and looked away.
A tall man with expensive but rumpled clothes opened the door.
Eragon's first thought upon seeing him was that he needed to rest more; his gray hair was unkempt and there were noticeable shadows under his eyes.
At the sight of them his jaw dropped open, speechless. He just stood there for several moments, gaping like fish. He rubbed his eyes once, seemingly not trusting what his senses were telling him, and eventually asked incredulously, "Brom?"
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They moved over to the citadel where its tick stone walls would insure they wouldn't be overheard.
Jeod and Brom were catching up, but because Eragon was there, they were using vague terms like 'what happened', 'found it', and 'our friends'.
He doesn't trust me, not completely. He asks that I put my life in his hands yet he keeps secrets from me, Eragon thought irritably. At least they did come up with a plan to find the records that could lead them to the Ra'zac. If all went well they would be on the road again in a few days.
Brom turned to look at Eragon. "Could you go check on the horses and make sure they're all right? I don't think I tied Snowfire to the ring tightly enough."
The moment I leave they're going to talk about whatever it is they don't want me to know, Eragon thought in annoyance.
Deciding that it wasn't fair that they kept him in the dark, he used one of the spells Brom had thought him to listen in on the conversation from outside the courtyard.
There was talk of a queen, of dwarves, and of a possible traitor causing trouble for Jeod and other traders for helping people the Empire doesn't favor. There was some more shocking stuff about Brom finding something in Gil'ead and needing to hide in Carvahall – Is Brom a fugitive of some sort? – Even allowing his own friend to think he was dead for almost twenty years.
Without more context though, Eragon couldn't make sense of any of it, but he resolved to ask Brom once they were out of Teirm.
As they reentered the main body of Teirm, Brom said, "So, Jeod, you finally got married. And," he winked slyly, "to a lovely young woman. Congratulations."
Eragon knew that they were talking about that rude blonde woman who answered the door before. He thought she could have been lovely but the facial expression, as if she was smelling something foul, ruined it, but dutifully kept his mouth shut.
Jeod seemed happy with the compliment though. "Thank you, though there has been some trouble lately. Could be worse though," He shrugged.
"Why? Is something wrong with her?" asked Brom.
"Not as such. The problem is that she comes from a wealthy family, and her father has invested heavily in my business. If I keep suffering these losses, there won't be enough money for her to live the way she's used to." He said with slumped shoulders. "Like I said, it could be worse. Helen seems to have found a new friend recently. A young woman that wanted to take a look at my collection of books, who often visits the estate." Jeod smiled. 'It is so nice to see someone who shares my appreciation for the written word. Still, I am afraid it will get worse if my situation doesn't get better soon."
Eragon perked up in interest. "Short, black hair and green eyes?" he asked, not bothering to hide his interest.
He noticed and ignored Brom robbing his forehead as if he suddenly had a headache.
"Why yes, have you met her?" Joed asked, perking up a bit.
"We ran into her just before we came to you, we didn't catch her name." Eragon decided to use the opportunity to learn more about the woman. Those sparkling emerald eyes just wouldn't leave his mind.
"Her name is Helena; you will probably see her occasionally if you stay at the estate," Jeod said.
Helena, he repeated the name a few times in his head. Just one small sound different from Helen, but while Helen sounds short and brusque, Helena sounded beautiful. He also noted it was also only one sound different form the name of his own mother, Selena ass well.
"Now, none of that!" Brom spoke up, "Eragon! remember why we are here."
There was nothing like thinking about the Ra'zac that could so quickly destroy his good mood. "Trust me, I won't forget," said Eragon through clenched teeth.
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Eragon woke up the next morning to discover that both Bron and Joed had left for the citadel without him. They left a message with the butler saying that that he could use the day however he wished, while they tried to get access to the shipping records.
Eragon eagerly began to explore Teirm.
He walked towards one of the busier sections of Teirm, nobody paying him any attention. Back in Carvahall everybody knew everybody, and whenever there where strangers they were treated with a healthy dose of distrust.
Here in Teirm nobody knew him, but they didn't seem to care. He found it a little odd to be honest, but he supposed it was a good thing as he wasn't supposed to draw any attention to himself.
He arrived at a big market square with – despite it being larger than any market he had ever seen – lots of small stands cramped tightly together, leaving hardly any space between them. Everybody was razing their voice to be heard over everybody else's razed voices, the result being a giant cacophony of noise that left him a bit dizzy.
He jumped slightly when he felt a hand his shoulder.
He turned and looked upon a chestnut blonde woman with creamy beige skin. Her lips where covered in a flame colored paint, and her cheeks were powdered slightly pink.
His eyes were drawn to the low neck cut of her dress. He quickly averted his eyes when he noticed just how low the cut was.
The woman chuckled at his reaction. "Hello sweetie, can I interest you in some company maybe," she spoke in a light husky voice.
"Uhm, I - I don't think," He sputtered.
The woman smiled slyly and opened her mouth, but another voice stopped her.
"Back of Marta, you daft bimbo! Can't you see he's just a kid!" boomed a familiar voice from nearby.
Eragon had no idea what a 'daft bimbo' was, but it probably wasn't a compliment judging by how Marta glared, her face red, at the approaching figure of Helena.
Eragon bristled a little at her words. I am not just a kid! I am almost sixteen years old!
Helena shooed the other woman away with some large waves of her arms, and then turned to him.
Eragon spoke up first, his brows furrowed and voiced his previous indignant thought.
Helena raised an eyebrow, "Well, did you want to be entertained by that tart?"
"well…. no." Eragon said somewhat embarrassed, cheeks heating up at the thought of the other woman. They didn't have woman off that profession in Carvahall.
Helena smiled and spoke slowly, "then just say, thank you."
After taking a breath and regaining his composure he donned a smile; she had tried to help him after all. "thank you."
Helena nodded. "Your welcome. I was just returning from one of the fish stalls. A friends of mine is absolutely addicted to the things and asked that I bring some for him."
She isn't wearing a bag though, just a small fine pouch that nobody would ever store fish in, noted Eragon.
"Well it was nice seeing you again," Helena continued, "Have fun exploring the market. Make sure that you check out the stall with the blue drapery down that corner," she pointed a gloved hand westward, "it sells a… well I don't actually know what it's made out off. It tastes delicious though. See ye."
"Wait," said Eragon before she could walk away.
"hmm?" she hummed, waiting for him to continue.
There is no harm, is there?
"I got the day off, mind if we hang out for a while?" Eragon asked nonchalantly, trying not to sound too eager or hopeful about it.
She turned to stare into the distant sky for a while, probably thinking that she had better things to do than to spend time with total stran–––
"Sure why not," Her face sported a wry smile. He must have looked surprised for she elaborated, "I don't have anything pressing to do, so I might as well show you around. What's your name kid?"
He couldn't help but glare at her. "I told you I am not just a––"
"Almost sixteen, okay yea, I got it, you're a big man." She rolled her eyes "So what is your name, you big, strong tough guy, you" She asked with a slight mocking smirk.
Still somewhat annoyed, Eragon gave the alias that Brom told him to use. "I am Evan."
"Pleased to meet you Evan. My name is Helena, and for the next few hours, you are in my capable hands." Her smirk grew more mischievous.
Eragon started to feel just the tiniest bit unsure about this whole thing.
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His fears turned out to unfounded; he had a great time.
They visited the stall that Helena had recommended earlier, and they found out that the snack that it sold was made out of some sea animal called a 'octopus'. It didn't sound at all appetizing when the animal was described to him, but Helena nodded encouragingly, so he was willing to give it a try. It tasted wonderful.
Helena dragged him all over Teirm, seeing the sights, marveling and commenting on the goods being traded from far of places. There were a few times that she tried to pay things for him, but he insisted on paying for his own expenses.
She just rolled his eyes at his obstinacy, something that made Eragon feel somewhat jealous.
Garrow, Roran and him had never had the luxury of not having to worry about money. If they didn't have enough coin before winter, then they would have to go hungry, or suffer the indignity of asking others for free food. They took pride in being able to take care of themselves.
Helena was also unlike any other woman that he had ever met.
The woman of Carvahall prided themselves on their reputation, and always tried to present an image of kindness and demureness. Helena was kind, he had noticed her drop a small coin at the feet of some urchin when she thought he wasn't looking, but there was also a directness and callous disregard for what others thought of her.
Or maybe she enjoyed being a pariah? It was hard to tell. Regardless, he found it refreshingly new. Though it did confuse him since it didn't mesh with the profile of a noble lady had built up around her.
"So why did you come to Teirm," Helena asked.
"My uncle Neal is visiting Jeod, their old friends. He took me along," Eragon gave the false story that he and Brom had prepared beforehand.
"What about your parents? They just let you go?" Helena wondered.
"Never knew them," he shrugged "I grew up with my uncle – not Neal, another uncle – but he died recently," He said,
Helena flinched visibly. "I am so sorry. I shouldn't have pried."
"You didn't know," he shrugged again. In truth he was still grieving about Garrow and it hurt to think of it, but she clearly regretted bringing it up and he didn't want to make her feel worse by showing it.
"How about you, do your parents not mind, you being here alone," he said wanting to change the subject to something less awkward.
"They died when I was very young," she said
So much for something less awkward. . .
"It's alright though," she continued, "I've gotten over it, others told me lots about them, and I know they loved me."
Eragon felt envious at that. That is more than I hav. My mother left me and I don't even know who my father is.
"Why did you come to Teirm though," he asked.
"Wasn't really my choice to come here, but it hasn't been so bad." she answered vaguely.
"What do you mean," he prodded.
"Life is weird sometimes," she continued to evade.
"How so?" he said, unwilling to drop it. All this evasion was making him even more curious!
She pondered the question for a few moments and then… "I used to live in Reavstone, a city in the south most part of Surda. My guardians wanted to marry me of to some ugly sixty-year-old man in a fiendish plot to rob me of the inheritance my parents left me. When it became clear I wasn't going to cooperate they locked me in a dungeon until they could bribe a priest to formalize the union. luckily, a few friends of mine busted me out, but I couldn't remain in the city, so I stowed away on the first ship leaving Reavstone I could find, and now I am here," she rattled off in a monotone voice.
"Really!" Eragon half shouted, horrified.
"No." She smiled impishly, and then raised her index finger in front of her nose as if imparting some great wisdom or secret, "but that's what happens when you press people for answers they don't want to give you. They lie."
Eragon couldn't decide if he was relieved or annoyed again.
Suddenly she stopped, gazing vacantly at the ground for a few moments.
Eragon was just about to ask if something was wrong when she turned to him.
"I am sorry Evan, I had a great time, but I need to get going. The time flew by faster then I realized. I promised to meet up with another friend later in the day, and it's getting late." He internally preened at the honest regret in her voice.
"It's alright, I should probably be heading back myself as well," he said, trying not to sound disappointed.
They said their goodbyes and Eragon left for Jeod's estate.
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Eragon was beginning to think making a final stop at the herbalist's shop hadn't been such a great idea.
First he got shocked by some unknown magic rod, then he got mocked by a werecat, then Angela the shop's owner came in. She seemed surprised that Solembum spoke with him – "My my, he certainly has been chatty lately!" - she then offered to read his future.
After hearing that the only person who had ever agreed to the foretelling before bore the name of his mother, he had agreed to the offer.
She pulled out a set of dragon knucklebones – WHERE IN DAMNATION DID SHE GET THOSE! – that had strange symbols on it, and cast them while speaking words of power.
It started of nice enough; a long live is a definite plus.
Then she started to predict there was going to be blood, battle, and in general just a lot of people wanting them to do what they want. Not a surprise, he supposed, but still not nice to hear.
Then things got even worse when she predicted that someone he cared about was going to die.
Who must I lose now? His thoughts immediately went to Roran. Or worse, could it be Saphira? That thought frightened him more than anything else.
She also predicted that he was going to leave Alagaësia eventually, never to return. It would happen even if he tried to avoid it.
Well…. shit.
"Ah, this next bone seems to be a little more pleasant" Angela smiled "An epic romance is in your future, extraordinary, as the moon indicates – for that is a magical symbol – and strong enough to outlast empires. I cannot say if this passion will end happily or in tragedy, but your love is one of noble standing and heritage. She is powerful, driven, courageous and a great beauty besides. Why, you really lucked out there didn't you?! Even I am starting to get jealous, and I don't even like woman!"
Of noble standing, thought Eragon in surprise. How is that possible? I have no more standing than the poorest of farmers.
He wasn't going to think about that last part.
"Now for the last two bones, the tree and the holly bush, which cross each other in the middle. Another good omen. You are not as alone as you think, and will soon receive unexpected aid."
Now that is some good news, thought Eragon with relief. They could definitely use all the help they could get.
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Eragon was just about to leave when Solembum blocked his path out by standing in the doorway.
'Yes?' asked Eragon.
'I suppose it cannot hurt to tell you this, just in case. Listen closely and I will tell you two things. When the time comes and you need a weapon…'
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Eragon stood in Jeod's study with Brom and Jeod.
"How did it go?" asked Eragon.
"Terrible!" barked Brom, clearly unhappy to say the least.
"So you talked to Brand?" Brand was the administrator of trade; so they had told Eragon.
"Not that it did any good," he said while glaring at nothing in particular and tapping his fingers on the table. "This Brand is the worst sort of bureaucrat. He insists that every rule be followed religiously, and seems to delight in making his own whenever it can inconvenience someone, and at the same time believes that he's doing good work."
"Then he won't let us see the records?" asked Eragon, fearing for his revenge.
"No," Brom said, sounding exasperated. "Nothing I could say would sway him. He even refused bribes, substantial ones even! I never thought I would ever meet a bureaucrat who isn't corrupt. Well I have met one now and I find that I much prefer them when they are greedy bastards. They may be sons of bitches, but at least you can manipulate them!" Brom took a calming breath. "So how was your day?"
"It was fine," Eragon shrugged
"Really?" Brom said skepticism oozing from his voice. "Just 'fine', you didn't spend the day following that young lady around?"
"How do you know about that?" Eragon challenged. The thought of Brom following him around all day as if he was some overprotective father protecting his son's virtue mortified him.
"I got a glance at you two on the way back. I told you not go look for her," Brom said through gritted teeth.
"You never said I couldn't talk to Helena. You just told me to remember why we are here," defended Eragon.
"That was heavily implied!" shouted Brom.
"Are you are talking about Helena?" Jeod chose to enter the argument. "Well you've got nothing to worry about Brom; Helena is very nice young woman."
"That's not the point," Brom sighed and turned to Eragon, "As soon as we have what we need, we are going to leave, and you will likely never see her again. I wanted to spare you any possible heartache."
That caused Eragon to come up short. He is right, Eragon thought with gloom, I will probably never see her again; Brom was just trying to protect me again.
"I didn't go look for her," Eragon said. "I was in the market district, and Helena chased away a prostitute for me. We chose to spend the day together afterwards."
He wasn't going to mention that it was him that had asked her out on what could subjectively be considered a romantic outing.
"Well, that's a bit better I suppose," Brom sighed again, "Anyway, I am going to take the next week to teach you how to read."
"And after that?"
A smile split Brom's face. "After that, we're going to give Brand a nasty surprise."
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Eragon was just returning from one of his daily evening visits to Saphira when he spotted a short hooded figure approaching the gate.
The figures face was cast in shadow, but he could just make out a pair of emerald eyes that seemed to glow softly in the dark.
He recognized them immediately; there were no others like them.
She raised a gloved hand and even though the fabric he noticed a familiar ethereal glow.
'Saphira could that be. . .' he trailed of.
'I… I think it might be,' came her hesitant, but hopeful response.
'We need to tell Brom about this,' Eragon decided.
As he rushed back towards their residence Angela's words repeated themselves to him in his mind.
You are not as alone as you think.
AN: AN: Eragon's physical description of Helena is biased and should be taken with a grain of salt. He is anything but objective.