Author's Note: Thank you all for the positive and informative reviews! I'm being a little repetitive in saying this, but- as always -if you have any thoughts, feel free to share!
The scent of sweat-dampened leather and the repetitive thudding of hooves on grassy ground filled the late afternoon air. We were on the edge of the thickest section of the forest, otherwise known as Du Weldenvarden.
This close to the elves' forest, I noticed a tangible change in the aura of the forest around us. It reminded me of the trees back at our house, except intensified. The very woods sang and when the trees creaked back and forth, their branches swaying elegantly, they seemed to be engaged in a slow dance with the wind. I had no experience to back up my theory, but I was convinced there was a prominent feeling of magic about this place.
Otherworldly assumptions aside, I had been seated on the creaking saddle mounted on our old mare the whole journey so my father could enjoy riding on an authentic elven steed. I grimaced. I had never had time for riding, although the concept had always been mildly intriguing.
Now my rattled body disagreed with that sentiment. The horse's pace rocked me back and forth, forcing me to find her rhythm and move in time with it unless I wanted to bounce in the saddle for the remainder of the trip.
Nevertheless, I was grateful towards the horse herself. I had to convince her that the black dragon wasn't a threat (which involved lots of stroking and consoling) and now I had tied the source of her fear to her back.
The dragon was sitting in front of me across the saddle, its long talons digging into the worn leather, and occasionally gnawing on the saddle horn with a ferocious growl. I used one hand to steer the horse, and one to reassure myself that the little creature was secure. Presently, it had fallen asleep, curled up against me with one paw pressed against the saddle horn and one translucent, ebony wing spread over itself, the other folded at its side.
I could feel its scaled flank rising and falling under my hand and again, a wave of unexplained affection washed over me. A flicker of emotion that was not my own dwelled in the back of my mind as my own thoughts focused on the dragon.
Hazy images that I could see in my mind's eye portrayed the black dragon, now fully grown, soaring above the clouds, sunlight spilling on its dark scales and making its golden eyes glitter. It was a powerful, massive beast, but as it floated on the breeze, it seemed lighter than a swallow diving through the foliage of a oak tree. It arched its neck proudly, its wings beating steadily, and I suddenly perceived the sense of wind brushing past my face and running through my hair. A fierce, possessive emotion gripped my heart. I was the ruler of the world. The prospect of my defeat was nothing more than a child's fantasy, for I was the king of earth, sky and fire.
The dragon's fiery eyes glinted at me piercingly and then the emotion faded and the images left my mind, leaving me alone with the presence, which had returned to being just that- a dormant presence in my soul. I gasped as if I had just managed to drag myself to the shore of a pond I had been drowning in.
Laufin's mind was apparently on other, more pressing subjects; he did not react to my shock. My father, however, pressed his hands against his horse's white shoulders, following Laufin's earlier instructions on how to steer the elven steeds- think to them your desired destination, or if all else fails, use a small collection of elvish words. The lithe horse obediently trotted next to my chestnut mare and my father rested a hand on my shoulder lightly, his brow furrowed.
I avoided his gaze adamantly, instead watching our mounts touching soft noses in friendship. At the white horse's touch, my horse lifted her head and nickered thankfully, as if the other had bestowed her with a fresh reserve of energy.
But he did not utter a word and soon his hand left my shoulder and he urged his horse on, his tattered cloak fluttering in his wake.
I watched him thoughtfully. He was a compassionate man, always willing to encourage me in whatever foolish dream I'd fancied when I was a boy. Kind and endearing, he never raised a hand against the crowd who scorned us in Cuenon. But there was always a wishful quality about him, a kind of dreamy, distant feeling that time had failed to erode.
My mother, from what I could remember of her, could've split open his shell to reveal his true feelings. She had been a confident, upfront woman who was always up for a good jest. My faint memories, coupled with my father's admiring stories, had presented me with that image of her, which I cherished.
Even she wouldn't have expected this. I thought ruefully, gazing down at the dragon in my lap. Yet I knew she would expect me, as her son, to preserve and make the best of it. And that I would.
Absent-mindedly, I stroked the crest of the dragon's forehead with my thumb. Let destiny come at me full-force, I will be ready.
Half-amused and half-serious at my own dramatic mental statement, I looked ahead at the shadowed tree line.
We continued on for some time, until Laufin called for a halt.
He dismounted and made a gesture that I took to meaning that we should do the same. Carefully making sure I did not disturb the dragon, I swung myself out of the saddle with an internal groan of relief, that quickly transformed into pain as my stiff muscles stretched and recoiled at the sudden movement.
Wincing, I looked up to ensure that the dragon was safely resting on the saddle. It had rolled over, and was now splayed across the whole of the saddle, still slumbering soundly.
A plodding of hooves around me distracted me from the soothing sight of my sleeping dragon. The two pure white horses were jogging past us, an enthusiastic hop in their gaits, into the depths of the forest, their bright coats soon consumed by the shadows.
I took a step forward to pursue them, but Laufin raised a hand. "They will wait for us in Osilon, one of our cities. We can travel on foot from here."
Narrowing my eyes, I withdrew my foot. "Then what becomes of us now?"
"Come here please." Laufin ignored my question and proffered an arm.
Walking warily towards him, I gazed upon the towering trees of the elven forest. Even if I was doomed- I mean fated -to train here, it did not mean I trusted it. "What must I do?"
"Step forward and reach out with your mind into the trees," Laufin's voice was soft, hypnotizing. An ancient ring clung to his words, as if he was using his own voice to speak words that had been stated before he was alive.
Narrowing my eyes further, I concentrated on the trees, delving into the depths of my soul. I accidentally made contact with the soul housed in my own, and I heard a sharp trill behind me from my awakened dragon.
It twined its mind around mine and together, without conscious thought on my part, we sent a thought flying through the forest, We are here. I had intended to say 'I', but the 'we' escaped before I could retract it. It seemed wrong to leave out the dragon when I named myself- he was a part of me, plain and simple. I sensed agreement emanating from the dragon's consciousness.
A deep voice answered me, resonating in my head with such greatness and regality that I flinched backwards, jerking my head the slightest bit as I tried to locate the owner of the intense voice. Name yourselves.
"Gilderien-elda, it is I, Laufin, guardian of the Lost Eggs." Laufin's voice announced gallantly.
The air before my shuddered as if in physical pain and suddenly a shaft of light poured down from the heavens, illuminating the trees around it with a pure, holy light, and within it was an elf. Not just any elf; this being was clearly of royal blood. He stood tall, with robes of such fine make that I doubted any of that quality could be sewn by mortal hands, a slim silver crown resting atop his head.
His face was the embodiment of wisdom, his expression was one of calm observance, yet his eyes pierced me more effectively than any blade.
"I am Lied, son of Aaryon." I voiced simply, gazing evenly at what surely must've been an elf god, allowing him to judge me as I was.
His eyes, eternal pools filled with experience and boundless knowledge studied me. I am not a deity for you to worship, Lied, son of Aaryon. Yet, I sense there is more to you than what you claim; I ask you to continue naming yourself.
I raised my chin, steeling myself, and cast a glance back at the dragon. It was standing atop the saddle, wings half-open and eyes locked on the individual before me. Its wiry body was tense, but its stare was burning, unwavering.
I turned back to Gilderien. "I am a Rider bonded to the dragon accompanying us. I am here to begin my training under Lady Arya in Ellesméra. Then I will travel over seas to the new land discovered by Eragon Shadeslayer and his dragon, Saphira Brightscales, the land known as Estraní, to complete my training." The dragon I had named let out a throaty snarl, as if seconding my words.
Gilderien contemplated me. Your training will never be complete, Lied-finiarel, but your words speak the truth. Who is the final member of your group?
"My father, Aaryon. He is a farmer of Cuenon, coming to live in Ellesméra while I am training."
My father himself was completely awestruck, staring at the elf slack-jawed; I doubted he could answer Gilderien if he wanted to.
A smile brightened the serene expression of the elf-lord. You may pass. He closed his eyes and melted into nothingness with nary more than a blink of an eye.
"Who was that, Laufin?" I immediately rounded on the elf, heart pounding against my ribcage with the stress of the supernatural experience I had just gone through.
"Gilderien the Wise, prince of House Miolandra, wielder of the White Flame of Vándil, and guardian of Ellesméra, more recently, the entirety of Du Weldenvarden." Laufin's cool eyes surveyed me for a moment before striding past me into the woods, his sleek, sable hair blending in with the shade of the trees.
I snatched the reins of my horse, ignoring the sudden pang of annoyance the dragon sent me from the horse's abrupt movement. "And why, pray tell, did he decide to expand his boundaries?"
"It was decided after the war with Galbatorix to give us another form of protection. As long as you do not lie, and your intentions are pure, Gilderien will grant you entrance. In addition to guarding our land from evil forces, we have also opened our land to humans and other mortals. Gilderien-elda prevents thieves and others who wish to commit foul deeds from entering our country."
"Interesting." My father nodded as if all this made perfect sense, hiking up his cloak so it didn't snag as he stumbled along behind me.
I shook my head in surrender and diverted my energy into guiding the horse through the pines, her hooves crunching the layer of dead needles at our feet.
Yet my father was not finished. "It was of my belief that the elves have a series of magical defenses surrounding your forest, isn't that right?"
"Indeed. Although, if one as strong as Galbatorix should rise to power, mere enchantments will not be sufficient." Laufin's tone became amused. "And as I said, humans, Urgals and dwarves can now enter our domain more freely. Extra precautions had to be taken."
My lips twisted into a smirk. He was not wrong.
"I lived through the Battle for Cuenon, and several of my kinsmen broke through your barriers to cut down trees." My father continued.
"Yes. Our energies were not focused on protecting our boundaries at that time, rather on our main forces, all of whom were striving to defeat Galbatorix's army. But as soon as we sensed the breach, we immediately sent troops to retaliate. I'm sure the humans who were in that party were not entirely unaffected by our magic." A cold satisfaction snuck into the elf's voice, but was swiftly replaced by repentance at the realization of his mishap. "I am sorry, I did not mean to appear condescending."
"Think nothing of it, my friend." My father smiled, the skin around his eyes crinkling. "Our two races have long been wary of each other. It isn't likely that grudge will fade immediately."
Laufin glanced back, his eyes warm as they met my father's. "You show perception. That is a good trait to possess."
The grudge has been held for sixteen years since the death of Galbatorix. I ground my teeth irritatedly and spoke my mind. "Why the sudden change of heart towards my kind?"
Laufin's back straightened rigidly. "It was a mutual decision. My people agreed that it was time to leave our seclusion. It was doing our race nothing but harm- and there was a possibility that if we were more active in the affairs of Alagaësia, Galbatorix might not have achieved so much in his tyranny. Or not even ascended to the throne."
Not trusting my tongue to remain civil, I managed a curt nod and stayed quiet, giving a slight tug on the reins to encourage the horse to pick up the pace.
The rest of the day's trek, I didn't speak, instead exploring my connection to the dragon's mind. The black-scaled beast allowed me to search its thoughts while at the same time reaching into the innermost of my being. It was a humbling feeling, to know that a sentient creature knew your every secret, private emotion and fumbling thought that you would never dare utter aloud. The dragon soothed me with a wave of wordless assurance- it would never betray our bond. I answered with silent gratitude and an identical promise.
We exchanged memories and past thoughts. The memories were like a grand mural on a wall that stretched on and on, and the thoughts were little spikes of emotion in the images, more picture than spoken language. The dragon's cool amusement at my childhood mistakes and minor traumas made me smile ruefully while simultaneously searching for a memory of its that I could expose.
There was nothing but memories of darkness in the confinement of its shell. It could feel its parents' heartbeats as they moved about the egg and the faint egg-dreams that had over-taken it.
I sensed its joy and when it felt my presence in the courtyard in Cuenon and knew with solid certainty that I was its match. It was completely resolved to find me, shutting out the others who had stepped up as Rider candidates. It was frustrated, angered by the fact that I was so close, and yet just out of reach. It was stirring in its shell, half-tempted to break out of it and dash over to me before one of its elven carriers captured it. I relived its ecstasy as my hand made contact with its scales, it felt as though the other half of his soul had been forged and it was made completely anew. A spell that had been cast upon it had been fulfilled and now tied us together, heart and soul.
The dragon disliked me calling him "it" in my thoughts and with a pointed jab, he made it clear that he was a male.
Do you have a name? I questioned. The dragon responded with a flash of negative emotion that turned up grey in my mind's eye.
Why don't you speak?
The dragon shook its head with a sound rather like an annoyed cat's.
We basked in the rays of the other's consciousness for the rest of the journey, not paying any mind to much else than each other, and into Osilon. The elves' city was mainly crops and an assortment of ordinary-looking farms, although a collection of buildings that looked like they had been grown out of the ground just as easily as the wheat and corn dwelled in the center. The whole city lay at the east base of a weathered mountain probably as old as the elves themselves.
My dragon and I had been too absorbed in the other's thoughts to notice we were hiking around a mountain. It was a very strange relationship to be forced into- one that I still did not comprehend. It was going to bother me incessantly until I understood it.
Even so, I would be a fool not to observe the foreign architecture of the elves. It was graceful, flowing with the curves of the earth and every wall and every shingled roof was immaculate; it was perfectly aligned. The elves themselves- male and female -were beautiful, pale faces as bright as the moon and slanted eyes staring into my very soul as easily as my dragon's. Their beauty was alien, strange. It seemed too pure to be real, a heavenly gift.
As breath-taking as they appeared, the elves' eyes were still off putting. They were cold, fierce and above all, detached. It was the look of a being who would stab you in the back in one breath and tend to your wounds in the next not caring if you lived or died. You were beneath them, and that was it.
In short, I did not trust them.
The elves of Osilon were accustomed to seeing dragons pass through their town by now, so Laufin told me, but they still had inquisitive glances to spare.
A few came up to Laufin and engaged him in a conversation in their spidery language. Understanding none of these exchanges and not being called to introduce myself, I would politely glance away and pretend to admire the nature around the elves' homes, while mentally telling my dragon precisely what I thought about the elf talking to Laufin, usually in descriptive images.
Whenever that happened, my father would bustle forward, absolutely beaming, and extend a hand to the new elf, who would pull out a smile that was practically dusty from disuse and shake his hand.
The remainder of Osilon was nondescript; the elves had no business with me, nor I with them. Taking shelter inside the house of one of Laufin's friends, we slept there.
As I lay on the simple cot laid out for me, staring through the oppressive ebony of the night to the crisp light of the moon, I considered my experiences thus far. I blocked out the dragon; I wanted my thoughts to be my own. I could only faintly sense his emotions, which consisted of fragments of the dream he was having.
My legs and feet ached and my mind spun, and, as much as I tried, all I could think about were the legends of Eragon Shadeslayer, imagining me and my dragon in his and Saphira's place. I was well aware of my abilities, and I knew that it was not within them to slay a Shade and ferry two hundred dragon eggs to a new world.
All that train of thought accomplished was fresh dread for meeting Queen Arya and Fírnen, to have them judge me as a potential hero joining the ranks of their order.
Forcing my eyes to close, I rolled over on the soft linen sheets and dashed the thoughts out of my mind with a ferocious reprimand. You'll be fine. When have you not succeeded at something you put your mind to?
And that is the truth of riding a horse. If you got nothing else out of this chapter, I hope you remember the trials of sitting on a saddle for half a day.
Just kidding! We're on the road to Ellesméra! Don't know about you, but I'm excited to start writing about Lied's training. Thanks for reading!
