(A/N: Hey everybody! I am back, and I know my chapters are kind of coming in at strange intervals. But I have school and other dumb stuff. Man I want spring break, I really need time to just sit down and write! But I have to wait another two weeks! SO NOT FAIR! [sigh] Anyway I bet you guys want the run down of this next chapter, so here you go! Arya, Brom, and Fírnen have left Carvahall and are tracking the Ra'zac after Garrow's death. They are still in the Spine yet and are avoiding the main roads. That's all you get ENJOY!)
Arya sat quietly, the lower half of her face hidden by the crook of her elbow as her chin rested on her knees, her arms wrapped around herself. She stared intently at the embers of the dying fire, not moving to stoke or to feed it, loosing herself in the glowing patterns and sparks. As if from far away she was aware of Fírnen's mind brushing her own. His deep musical voice echoed as if in a great cave, filling her being with a resounding calm.
Arya…are you well? Arya mentally withdrew from him. But only just, she needed his comfort now, more than ever. Nothing Brom could say would change how she felt at the time. Arya never thought that Garrow would die like that, without a fight. In his farm, she couldn't believe that the farm had been burned. Arya felt Fírnen again and this time removed all her measures and his comforting presence washed over her.
Brom returned after a few hours, his arms full of kindling for the fire. His face showed mild concern, but she could see his eyes gave him away. He was worried about her. After a few hours he broke the silence.
"How long have you had your dragon?" his curiosity evident in the way he spoke.
"Fírnen…" was Arya's only response. At Brom's surprise she added. "It's his name. Fírnen, it was the only name you gave me that he liked."
Arya could've sworn that she saw a tear form in the old storyteller's eye but then he blinked it away, a gruff cough sounding from his throat.
"Very well," His voice cracked softly, before he cleared his throat and continued, clearly and loud. "how long have you had Fírnen?"
Arya took a deep steadying breath and began sharing her experiences with Brom. She detailed her finding of the egg, how she raised the dragon, how she realized that she was a Rider, how she went to ask Brom about the dragons and to ask for names, and how Fírnen kidnapped her to save her from the strangers at the farm. She choked up when she mentioned that, and went silent again. There was a long span of time, where neither one talked. They simply sat while Arya dwelled on all that had happened. She felt unwelcome tears spring to her eyes, and she angrily began to rub at them and blink them away. Brom again was the first to break the silence.
"I'm sorry." His face was fixed on hers and his eyes were full of genuine hurt and concern. "For everything that's happened."
"Why would you be?" snapped Arya. She was startled to see him flinch. Then he stood and gruffly snapped back.
"I thought it worthy of apology that your uncle is dead!"
Arya huffed and, upon seeing the darkness creeping through the mountains, turned to lie down in her sleeping skins. Darkness over took her as she pulled them over her face and head. The only intruder on her revere was the great green dragon beside her. Until she began crying again, he said nothing. But when her eyes erupted with tears his voice became concerned and sad.
Little one… Arya accepted his presence as she fell into a dreamless sleep.
As she awoke, Arya smelled food, and her stomach announced its annoyance with being ignored. She pushed down her hunger and sat there for some time. She felt like she was falling into a great black pit, so deep it seemed to not have a bottom. She wanted everything to go back to the way they were before, before she found Fírnen, before the strangers came and killed Garrow, before Roran left, before she ever listened to Brom.
It is useless to wish for what cannot be, little one. Fírnen's deep melodious voice was comforting, like a part of her. He seemed to become amused by her realization. That's because we are, you are a part of me, and I am a part of you now. Bonded Rider and Dragon. We are fiercer than anything alive today.
Arya smiled and thanked him, and she rose to see Brom eating a loaf of bread with a wrapped package across his lap. He chuckled at her as she rose to grab something to eat.
"Good," he said around a mouthful of bread. "you're awake, now I can answer some of the myriad of questions you must have." He smiled wryly.
He carefully fingered the package, tracing the form with the tip of his finger. And Arya asked the first question that popped into her head.
"How can you talk to Fírnen?" Brom's smiled faded and he looked at her.
"Any one can be trained to speak with their mind, it's just to what degree that's important. Most can talk to themselves but few who are untrained can speak to animals or other humans. The elves speak in this manor extensively and the Riders of old used it to speak to their dragons."
"Are you a Rider?" the question burst forth without her thinking and she looked down at her feet in shame, ready for the tongue lashing about her interrupting him. But Brom chuckled loudly instead.
"No, but I had a very good teacher who taught me how to speak that way. Though I wont speak to Fírnen anymore than necessary, as it is considered rude for anyone who is not a Rider to speak to a Rider's dragon without permission."
"That didn't stop you earlier." She mumbled. And Brom chuckled again.
"I thought it was appropriate at the time to break the formalities. Now ask another question."
Arya thought for a while before settling on an appropriate one.
"How do you know so much about dragons, elves, and all this?" Brom's face straightened and skewed, as if pondering a terribly complicated riddle, it was a while before he answered.
"Suffice it to know that I was well educated as a young man. And that is all I will say about it." At Arya's words began to rise he held his hand up. "I will offer answers at a later date, but first I must show you this." As he stopped talking he began to unwrap the package. Arya's eyes widened as a sword began to be revealed.
The gold pommel was teardrop shaped with the sides cut away to reveal a ruby the size of a small egg. The hilt was wrapped in silver wire that gleamed like starlight in the morning sun. The sheath was the color of wine and smooth as glass. Adorned solely by a strange black symbol etched into it. The last strip of cloth fell away to reveal a heavy black leather belt, and a silver buckle added the only contrast to the color. Brom looked and, smiling, handed the blade to Arya.
The handle of the blade fit Arya's hand like it was forged specifically for her. She drew the sword; soundlessly it slid from the sheath. The straight blade was an iridescent red and glowed in the combined light of the fire and sun. The keen edges curved gracefully to a fine, sharp, point. A duplicate of the black symbol was etched into the blade near the cross guard. The balance of the blade was perfect; it felt like an extension of her arm, unlike the rough farm tools and bow she was accustomed to. An air of power hung around the blade, accompanied by an aura of unstoppable power. This weapon had been designed and forged for the sole purpose to end men's lives, yet it was terrifyingly beautiful.
"This was once a Rider's blade, Arya." Brom spoke quietly. "Don't ask how I got it, but suffice it to say that it was not without difficulty. When they finished their training, they were presented with their blade by the elves. The methods used to forge them are secrets they jealously guarded, and still do. However, their blades remained eternally sharp and will never stain. They are also nearly indestructible." He cast a look over to Fírnen, "Customarily the blade was supposed to match the color of the Rider's dragon, but I think we can make an exception in this case. The name of the blade is Zar'roc. I don't know what it means, so don't ask." He watched Arya swing the sword, a strange far-away look in his eyes.
"What does the symbol mean?" Arya slid the sword into the sheath. Fierce joy ebbed in her veins at the weight of the weapon in her hands. She would kill the strangers with this sword.
"It was probably the personal crest of the Rider it belonged to." Brom answered simply. "Any more questions?"
Arya again sat, searching for the right question. "Who were those strangers?"
Brom's face darkened and he chuckled darkly.
"They are the king's personal dragon hunters, whenever rumors of dragons or Riders surface, he sends them out."
"Are they human?" Arya interrupted. "They don't move like humans, and they seem more unpleasant than any evil human I've met."
Brom sighed tiredly. "No, no they are not human in the slightest. They are of a dark and twisted race of beings known as Ra'zac. Ancient and powerful, they followed our ancestors from whatever land they came from."
Arya nodded. Fírnen suddenly asked a question.
What makes them so effective at finding their prey? Arya repeated the question to Brom, she shivered in his curiosity
"No one really knows. Even all the greatest scholars together couldn't tell you how they track their victims." He sighed, "I'm sorry, you likely know more about the subject than I, Arya. The only concrete thing I know about them is although they live longer than us, they are mortal. Does that put your mind at ease?"
She nodded, at least comfortable in the knowledge that they can be killed.
Suddenly Brom stood, leaning on his staff.
"Arya, we're going to have to leave the Spine tomorrow. The Ra'zac have a several day head start on us. If we intend to kill them, we would do well to leave the mountains so that we may track them effectively." He stamped out the fire as he said this and motioned for her to collect her things into a bundle, which he then tied to Fírnen's back. Brom sighed and turned to Arya,
"Do you think you could fly again soon?" Arya stiffened at his question and shook her head slowly. Ashamed. "Ah…your wounds. You were flying weren't you?"
How does he know all this? She asked Fírnen. Normal people wouldn't have knowledge of this kind of thing!
Ah…but he is not a normal human. He responded. How else would he have the ability to speak to me and have a Rider's blade? I think there is more to Brom than we both know, perhaps more than anyone knows.
Arya nodded and smiled to Brom, whose confusion she found amusing to say the least.
(A/N: I have finished a new chapter…but this one did not turn out as well as I'd thought. So I think that maybe I should skip their travelling and go straight to the Teirm stuff. Then skip their travelling to go straight to Dras-Leona. Any feedback? Please? Oh and I have come up with a name for my female OC: Selene. [French for "moon"] any who! Please tell me what you think about skipping the travelling parts! Next chapter will be Eragon again. And in the words of one of the most lovable characters ever, TTFN! Ta Ta For Now! PS: first reviewer who can tell me who says that will get a character named after them! PEACE! †,..,†)
