A/N: Woah, it has been a long time... Sorry it took me so long, I never expected this semester to be so busy! (and now that I finally have some time to relax, I am sick, yeah!).
Anyway, here is chapter nine, the second part of Eragon's old story. It will take at least three more chapters to complete it, I believe...
As always, constructive criticism is appreciated. Please enjoy !
Disclaimer: The universe belongs to Paolini.
Chapter 9: Eragon's story – Hatching
Once the egg was close enough, he took it in his arms. He felt the approval of the dying dragon before it left his mind. Eragon rested his hand on the nose of the dragon, his gaze never leaving the silver eye.
With a final sigh, the dragon stopped breathing.
Eragon blinked. Seeing such a magnificent and impressive beast die before his eyes was not something he had been prepared for when he angrily left the city. Now, he found himself holding a rescued dragon egg after having witnessed the ruthless and bloody attack of the elves in the dragon's memories.
It was completely different from hearing the stories of the soldiers, or listening to the cries of a mother who lost her son in an attack. He had intimately felt the despair of the dragon, experienced his rage and sudden hope at seeing unhatched eggs destroyed while one mysteriously resisted. He could remember every flap of wings of the dragon's last flight as if he had been the one furiously flying away with an egg clutched in his talons.
He was so overwhelmed by the lingering feelings of the dragon and his own shock and anger that it took him a while to realize that the world had gotten blurry, and even longer to understand that it was because he was crying. He removed his hand from the dragon's nose and wiped the tears pouring from his eyes.
For the first time, he looked at the egg the dragon had entrusted him with.
It was a white egg, with sapphire blue veins running across the shell and joining on one side. Remembering the many different colours of the eggs in the dragon's memory, Eragon wondered if the dead dragon had not been one of the parents of this egg. With a start, Eragon realized that he had no idea if the dragon had been male or female, nor if he had a name.
He slowly stood up, once again looking at the corpse of the magnificent beast. He felt like he should offer him (or her) some sort of funeral, but had not the slightest idea how to accomplish this. To bury it would probably take days, and he doubted he could burn the body either. He shook his head. It was pointless. Even if he somehow managed to do it, some soldier was bound to stumble upon the grave, or notice the smoke from the giant pyre. They would immediately understand that an elf was sympathizing with the dragons.
He looked back at the egg in his arms. He was not sure why the dragon had given it to him, but it was probably the only way he could show his respect. The question was, what should he do with it?
The safest thing was probably to try and give it to a healthy, adult dragon. The safest thing for the egg, that is. Eragon seriously doubted any dragon would think twice before attacking if they encountered an elf holding a dragon egg, especially after their nests had been attacked. And even if the dragon was willing to hear him out, he had no idea where to find one. In fact, they had probably settled farther from the elven cities by now – they could travel much faster than elven soldiers, and probably had too much bad memories attached to their former nests. Which meant he would never be able to reach them without someone noticing his absence.
However, it was also probably his best chance to try and negotiate with the dragons. If he could hide the egg long enough to learn the location of the nearest dragons from an inebriated soldier, it should be easy enough to ask for a few days off to visit his family and go meet the dragons instead. Perhaps he would be able to end this war sooner than he had first thought.
One question still remained, though. How in Alagaesia did you care for a dragon egg? Was he supposed to keep it warm? And how long did he have until the dragon inside hatched?
Eragon shook his head. Only dragons could answer those questions, and he had already established that he could not search for them right now. Besides, he had left the city for quite a while already, it would be best to return now.
The journey back was slightly longer than he had thought, which both reassured and worried him. The longer until he got back to the forge, the higher the chance of someone noticing his absence and waiting for him. However, the farthest the clearing with the dead dragon was from the elven capital, the better: no one would stumble upon it before nature had erased his own trail.
He finally heard the noise of the soldiers celebrating their victory – a sound that made him want to vomit, especially after experiencing the dragon's side of the story. He hurried to his room, lifted his bed and hid the egg underneath it. He would have to find a better place later, but no one had any reason to search his rooms – it would do for a few days. Then he sighed, put on his best fake smile and joined the festivities. He was glad none of the soldiers for whom he had forged a weapon approached him – he did not wish to know how any dragons they had hurt with those.
The next day, Eragon asked his master to focus on learning how to forge armours, arguing that he had been surprised by how many soldiers had not returned from the battle – it was not entirely a lie, though his primary reason was simply that he could no longer bear to think that he was indirectly killing dragons. When Rhunon claimed that she wanted to focus on swords herself, the master easily obliged them. The unexpected consequence, however, was the load of work he entrusted them with; after the recent battles, many armours and weapons were in need of repair or replacement.
Eragon anxiously did his work, wondering when he would find time to better hide the precious egg, or gather information about the dragons' new location. Every day that passed meant that the egg a day closer to hatching, and Eragon seriously doubted he could hide a freshly hatched dragon in his room.
The workload finally lightened after a full week, and Eragon had learned from a young officer that dragons had taken refuge in the north. They expected them to retaliate soon, and the magicians were spelling the wood of the main buildings against fire.
He had checked on the egg every night, but had not noticed any changes. He hoped this meant that the egg needed no further care. He was, however, increasingly worried about someone discovering it – though he knew that there was no reason for anyone to search his room – and he went to bed determined that he would use all his free time to search for a new hiding place for it.
The following might, he was awaken by a soft squeaking sound. He raised his head lazily, searching for the source of the sound – it was not rare for some small rodent to get locket inside a house. He saw nothing and let his head fall back on his pillow. He was exhausted. He had spent half the day working in the forge, and the rest running around in the forest in search of some cave or anything that would be suitable to hide the egg. He had found nothing.
Another squeak. The sound was close, but muted. With sudden apprehension, Eragon jumped out of his bed and lifted the mattress.
The egg was shaking, and the next squeak he heard clearly emanated from it. Eragon released the mattress to mute the sounds and sat on the ground, facing his bed.
It was hatching. This was probably the worst thing that could happen right now. His master and Rhunon were sleeping in the nearby rooms, and the walls were not thick enough to ensure that none of them would hear. Even if the hatching went unnoticed, it would be far harder to hide and take care of a young dragon instead of an egg!
Eragon forced himself to think. He could not stop the egg from hatching. Therefore, he only had two options: he could either try and hide the dragon for a few days or run away with it tonight. If he waited, there was a high risk of being discovered and killed but he could prepare his trip to the dragons, and continue his apprenticeship – his path to political power. If he chose to leave now, the dragon would be safe from discovery but people would notice his absence. Even if he left no evidence of treason, it would be nearly impossible to resume his apprenticeship once he came back.
He would wait, but he would be ready to run away in case the dragon was discovered. Hopefully, he would be able to manage for a handful of days. He had more free time than during the last week, which would allow him to hunt for the hatchling, and check on it. The only real problem was how to make sure the dragon kept quiet in his absence and at night.
A crack, followed by a louder and almost irritated squeak. Eragon smiled. It seemed the dragon was eager to break free of its shell. He raised the mattress again and observed as a small, scaly head pushed away fragments of the egg before being followed by a wing, then a leg, and finally the rest of the dragon's body.
Like the egg, the hatchling's scales were pure, ivory white except for a few sapphire ones. Those were arranged in lines, forming an odd pattern. His wings were long, his spine covered with small quills that would have been frightening if they had not reminded him of a hedgehog. It was hard to realize that, in a few months, the cute and tiny creature would have grown into a magnificent and deadly beast.
The dragon rose its head and looked at Eragon. He was surprised to see that the hatchling's eyes were also sapphire in colour – he had expected them to be silver, like the dragon in the clearing. Slowly, the scaly neck extended towards him. Unconsciously, Eragon raised his right hand and offered it to the dragon. He felt the small, still moist nose touch his palm. And then the world erupted.
At first it was painful, but soon Eragon was overtaken by the odd impression of being dumped in a cold fire that filled his mind as well as his body. And just as suddenly as it had started, the sensation stopped. Yet, Eragon knew something was different. A part of him, which had felt empty until now, was full. Despite the precariousness of his situation, he was at peace for the first time in many years.
He hesitantly petted the dragon, wary of being shocked again. Nothing happened, and the white dragon seemed to enjoy the caress, offering Eragon his belly to rub and emitting a soft purring sound. Having already decided what he would do, Eragon was simply enjoying the moment when he felt a pressure against his mind. He glanced at the dragon who was watching him intently.
Well then, perhaps the communication problem might be easier to solve than Eragon had first expected. He would never have guessed that a newly-hatched dragon would be able to achieve a mental prowess which required months of training for the elven magicians.
He welcomed the presence, and a mix of curiosity and joy filled his mind. He let the dragon wander in his thoughts and memories, though he hid the memory of the clearing. He had no wish for the dragon's first picture of his species to be that of an agonising dragon.
Soon, a feeling of hunger added itself to the mix. Eragon try to answer with reassurance and calm, sending an image of himself going to find food while the dragon stayed quietly the bed. A soft, oddly high-pitched growl of protestation was heard before Eragon frantically tried to explain through images and feelings that they needed to make as little noise as possible. The dragon finally settled on top of the bed with a deeply disappointed – but still dignified – look.
Taking some meat from the forge's pantry was easy – living in the middle of a forest meant that they had never suffered from shortage of food despite the long war. No one bothered to inventorize the food or guard it. Eragon grabbed some small pieces of dried meat for the dragon, and then paused. Since he was already here, he should probably prepare some provisions in case he needed to run away.
He slowly walked back to his room, his arms filled with herbs and meat, praying that no one else had awaken. Though the master fully authorized both Rhunon and him to help themselves to the food whenever they wanted, he would have a hard time justifying taking so much for a nocturnal craving. On his way, he also picked up a short sword he had worked on the previous week – not his best weapon, but it should be enough for defending himself from most predators he could encounter deep in the forest, dragons excepted.
Once back in his room, he dumped everything next to his leather bag before feeding the young dragon. As he placed the small piece of meat in his right hand, a moonbeam fell on his palm making him finally notice the odd scar. Because he was used to small burns from his work in the forge, Eragon had not checked his hand after being shocked when he first touched the dragon. Now however, while the small hatchling contentedly chewed his meat, he took the time to examine the scar.
It was oval in shape, and the colour appeared to be silver in the moonlight. He closed his fist and then opened it again a few times. His hand seemed to work fine, he felt none of the stiffness that usually accompanied a scar this large. The only explanation he could think of to explain such a phenomena was Magic. Yet, why had it only happened when he first touched the dragon? Was it something that usually happened between the hatchlings and their mother?
Eragon shook his head and gave another piece of meat to the eager dragon. Obviously, this was one more question he would not be able to answer to until he managed to discuss it with an adult dragon. And since it did not seem to cause him any harm, he decided to put it out of mind for the time being.
He looked back at the dragon, noticing that his belly had gotten bigger, which was not very surprising given the amount he had eaten. For such a small fellow – his body war shorter than Eragon's forearm – he certainly ate a lot. Eragon glanced back at the food he had taken in the pantry and winced. At this rate, these would not even last a week.
The dragon, satiated, settled near his pillow and quickly fell asleep. With a smile, Eragon prepared the bag, filling it with the food, goatskin flasks he could fill with water, and some arrows. Next to it, he put the short sword, as well as his bow and a quiver of arrows. He had no armour or shield, but he reflected that he had no intention to fight, simply hunt food for himself and his dragon. He checked that his door was securely closed and laid back on the bed, petting the sleeping dragon until he fell asleep as well.
Eragon was awakened by his master pounding on the door and announcing that he would be gone until late in the afternoon – the officers needed him to discuss the logistic of the soldier's equipment. His heart pounding and his hands firmly closed around the dragon's mouth, Eragon confirmed that he had heard and respectfully asked through the door what he required them to do during the day.
''I left the full instructions with Rhunon. Hurry up, boy! You are late already!'' His master admonished before moving away from the door.
Eragon let out a deep sigh of relief and released his hold on the dragon. His master had not even once tried to open the door, nor was it his habit to barge into the young apprentices private space. Yet, he had never been more scared in his life. Leaving sounded more and more like a good idea.
The dragon shook his head and snapped his jaws, sending a feeling of hunger and irritation to the young elf. Eragon quickly fed the dragon while attempting to mentally apologise for his rude handling and explain again the need to stay hidden and quiet. With a puff of smoke, the dragon settled back on the bed. If Eragon had any doubt that dragons were intelligent creatures, they would have disappeared at the vision of the newly-hatched white dragon pouting on his bed.
He left the room, carefully closing the door behind it. He hoped the dragon would not grow bored and try to explore as he had no way to lock the room.
When he reached the forge, Rhunon was already melting ore. When she heard him, she looked up.
''Finally found your way out of your bed, Eragon?'' she asked with amusement.
Eragon shrugged and answered with a smile. ''Some squeaking animal woke me up last night. I slept in to compensate the loss of sleep.'' It was the truth, after all.
''Well, master wants us to work with these old swords. We have to melt everything and reforge it in some everyday tools.'' She explained while throwing another broken sword into the fire.
Eragon raised his eyebrows. They had never been asked to work on anything besides weapons and armours. Rhunon saw his face and continued.
''He said we have had enough practice in war supplies recently, and that these smaller works will teach us to be more precise. We have to work out the whole process ourselves, he took away all the instructions.''
Eragon groaned. Their master was a rather kind man, but he was very strict and tended to give them such challenges without warning. Though he was glad to learn something that had nothing to do with war for the first time in years.
Oddly enough, the day passed as though nothing unusual had happened. The only exceptions were when Eragon would feel the dragon's mind touching his own, sharing his boredom or hunger. The young elf would then escape for a few minutes to take care of his dragon, pretexting hunger or a need for fresh air and silence – something which was hard to obtain in a forge. Those short pauses were an habit Rhunon and himself had quickly acquired in their apprenticeship: with three fires raging and three people clanking metal, you ended up with a terrible headache by mid-day otherwise.
Over the course of the day, Eragon slowly relaxed. It seemed hiding the dragon for a couple of weeks would not be so hard, after all. But he should apply his master for some time off to see his family as soon as possible.
Rhunon and Eragon finished their work by late afternoon. Eragon looked at his friend's creations without being able to suppress a slight disappointment. Rhunon was hard-working and extremely talented. He knew she would become a legendary blacksmith in a few years. In comparison, his own work – though excellent for such a young apprentice – always seemed to be lacking.
He felt the dragon's curiosity at these thoughts and quickly returned to his room to spend some time with the hatchling before the master returned. Lying on his bed, he was slowly falling asleep while petting the dragon and therefore failed to hear the approaching footsteps.
''Eragon? The master sent a message saying he would not be back until well after dinner.'' He distantly heard Rhunon's voice and fought the foggy feeling to try and comprehend what she had just said.
''Eragon? Did you hear me?''
Damn, he was tired. He had not slept well the previous night.
''Eragon, are you well?'' Rhunon's voice was slightly worried now.
An odd feeling of urgency was filling Eragon's mind. He shook his head and started to sit up. What was this scaly thing on his hand?
''Eragon, I am coming in!'' Rhunon announced.
Scale. Dragon. Eragon's gaze fell on the hatchling blurredly blinking his eyes, his mind finally chasing away the remnants of sleep and understanding the meaning of Rhunon's words. His head turned towards the door, his mouth already opening to assure his fellow apprentice that he was all right…
Too late. Rhunon was petrified on the threshold of his room, her left hand still on the handle of the door and her eyes fixed on the dragon which was now stirring and yawning on his bed. She slowly released the handle and stumbled a couple more steps into the room.
''What…'' She started. Then she shook her head and turned around.
Eragon wanted her to stay so he could explain. Perhaps if she did, he could convince her that he was not mad, that this was all in the sake of peace. But she was still a thirteen-year-old girl who had only ever been told that dragons were enemies and must be killed. Her natural reaction would never be to discuss such a discovery calmly.
Eragon felt his panic morph into a new sensation, which he unconsciously let escape in a soft cry: ''Close!''
The door of his room sealed shut, trapping Rhunon inside.
She froze again, staring at the door and then back at Eragon. ''You have Magic?!'' She exclaimed. Apparently, this was as shocking to her to finding a dragon peacefully sleeping on his bed.
Shocked at the new discovery and the whole situation, Eragon wordlessly nodded. He gulped and then said, trying desperately not to sound like he was begging.
''Please, just… give me a chance to explain.''
Rhunon stared at him and glanced at the door. ''I do not really have a choice, do I?'' Without giving time to reply, she crossed her arms and continued. ''Very, well, explain. Master will be back in a few hours, anyway.''
Eragon cringed. If he wanted to believe he might be able to convince Rhunon, he had no such illusions regarding his master.
With a deep breath, he began. ''I...I just want peace. For everyone. Since our grandparents reached these shores, we have spent half our time in Alagaesia fighting the Dragons. Whatever for? They have no resources we need, nor do we have anything that could interest them – as far as I know. We are just exterminating each other. You and I have known nothing but war. I want to experience peace. To have friends and family without wondering whether or not they will still be alive next year.''
He looked up at Rhunon, happy to see that she was truly listening. ''I found an egg a couple of weeks ago, after the attack on the nests. I thought bringing it back to the dragons would be a first step, a proof that peace is possible between our species. It hatched last night, and I had to adapt my plans. I still want to bring it back to the dragons, and try to convince them to be less aggressive until we can negotiate some kind of peace.''
Rhunon looked at him, then at the young dragon which had jumped on the floor. ''You are completely utopian, you do realize that?''
Eragon shrugged. ''Maybe I am. But I do not like war and I believe in peace. I will not excuse myself for that.''
''I never said you had to.'' She warily observed the dragon as it approached her, but smiled when it squeaked and brushed against her leg before trotting back to Eragon. ''And clearly you are not the only one in this room who believes in peace between our species.'' She added with a small smile.
Eragon smiled and petted the dragon. ''Does this mean that you will help me?'' He asked with hope.
Rhunon shook her head slowly. ''I am not sure I can help you, or if I even want to.'' Eragon's face fell. Rhunon continued. ''I will not say anything to anyone, however, and perhaps I can help you protect your secret and plan your journey. But I can't offer anymore than that for now.''
Seeing the slight betrayal in his eyes, she straightened. ''I do not enjoy war either, don't you dare accuse me of that! But I do not share your absolute certainty that peace can come so easily either. I do not care if I forge weapons or everyday tools, I simply like forging. As a woman, I would never have been able to obtain this apprenticeship, no matter my skills, in times of peace.''
She paused. ''Do I like war? No. But it is a time of opportunities, and many would fight you for the power and rights they can only obtain in such circumstances.''
''I had never thought about this before.'' Eragon admitted.
''I supposed as much.'' She sat on the floor. ''So, how exactly do you plan to carry a dragon through the town?''
He outlined his plan, and listened to her objections and suggestions. His original plan of waiting a few days and leaving with his master's blessing to visit his family quickly proved impossible: the dragon was growing too fast – Eragon swore it had nearly doubled in less than a day – and soon he would not be able to hide it inside a bag to cross the city.
Eragon first proposed to wait for one more day, hoping his master would agree to his leaving the next day. Rhunon remarked that if the master refused – and it was likely he would, with such a short notice – he would have to leave anyway and it would look even more suspicious.
In the end, they determined the best way was for Eragon to pretext a family emergency and leave before their master returned. Rhunon would advise the master of his hurried departure, and pretend to be ignorant of the reason beyond the vague 'family emergency'. That way, her own apprenticeship should not be endangered by Eragon's actions. It would likely be days before anyone worried: his master would assume that he was with his family, and his family did not expect him to come home anytime soon. Unless one attempted to contact the other, no one would suspect anything. And once his master did contact Eragon's parents, hopefully some small attacks would have happened and everyone would assume that he was dead.
This was the one reason Eragon disliked the plan: there was no way he could maintain his apprenticeship. He would solely be some sort of ambassador to the Dragons, but would have absolutely no authority in the elven society.
''An elf accepted by Dragons is bound to be talked about, Eragon. Stay hidden until you can appear on your own terms, and stage your reappearance carefully. People will judge this strange man on how he first appears to their eyes. If you side with the Dragons, no matter your intentions, you will be labelled as a traitor and killed on sight.'' Rhunon cautioned.
After thanking Rhunon for her understanding and help, Eragon finished packing, adding a few of the newly forged tools Rhunon had made that day, convinced the small dragon to hide in another bag and quickly left. He made no effort not to be noticed: people seeing him leave hurriedly could only help his alibi.
