And so, when the morning comes and the clanmeet convenes, I wait outside the main hall until eventually, the doors open and Eragon's translator appears. "They have requested your presence Lady Ciara."

I nod. "Very well." I get to my feet and comport myself proudly, striding into the hall with my head held high. "You wish to hear the truth from me?"

The clan chiefs nod, and five old dwarves look at me curiously. Two younger dwarves, magicians, by the look of them, approach me slowly. "We would like permission to enter your mind."

I nod. "Be careful not to stray too far. I may only be half elf, but my mind is as dangerous a place to wander in as any of theirs." I breathe in and out deeply. "To make your job easier, I will bring all of my memories pertaining to the event to the front of my mind." I do so, then lower the first layer of barriers in my mind so that the two dwarves may enter.

The dwarves shuffle around for over a minute, playing and replaying the scene of the attack. But they do not stray any further, so my memories of Oromis and Glaedr are in no danger. They withdraw from my mind and turn to the old dwarves. "Her account matches. Though the way that she analyzed the situation is remarkable. She was quite aware of many interesting details, though she has likely overlooked some of them due to her limited exposure to our race."

"Which details?" One of the old dwarfs asks. The magician and old ones share a brief moment of contact, then they all nod. "Indeed, that is interesting, and it supports all of the evidence." The one in the middle nods to me. "Thank you, your Ladyship. You have been most helpful in this investigation."

I incline my head respectfully and turn away, walking out the door and leaving Orik with a last nudge in his mind for good luck. The doors close behind me and I feel confident that Vermund will not be able to talk his way out of this situation. And I don't have to wait long, for only minutes later does Vermund storm out of the hall, followed by a few dwarves of his clan, all clothed in purple, and give me one last hateful look before leaving in shame. It satisfies me to see them leave, for I know what has transpired. They have been banished in the fashion of the dwarves, completely and utterly ignored.

With the coronation to happen in three days, Eragon and I rush to our quarters to send a message to Saphira and Sorin, telling them to make haste and fly to Tronjheim. With their presence, the crowning of the new dwarven monarch will indeed be an event to remember.

As the last three days of deliberation go on, Orik seems very confident in his position. And when I feel the touch of Eragon's mind, crowing with satisfaction, I know that Orik has won, and that he will follow in Hrothgar's footsteps as the king of the dwarves.

The dwarves exit the room, and I congratulate Orik on his victory. "Well done Your Majesty. I suppose that you will have access to as much mead as you desire." I laugh and smile. "Because in a little while, you will need enough for two dragons." I glance at Eragon. "Let's go!"

Eragon smiles and we take off at a run, sprinting through the city and into the tunnels that lead outside. We run through the tunnels until we feel them. Sorin and Saphira come galloping, well whatever it is that dragons do at high speeds that isn't flying, towards us.

Ciara!

I revel in the touch of Sorin's mind. Oh Sorin, it has been so long. Was all well with the Varden?

Yes, all was well. But when Saphira and I got the summons, we hurried here as fast as our wings would take us. We haven't slept or eaten, but it was worth it to be here so quickly. He comes to a stop, nearly knocking me over, and breathes his hot breath on me. He nuzzles me and I climb onto his snout. "That way." I point to the other end of the tunnel. "I think Orik will have some mead set out soon, especially seeing as it is time to celebrate his impending coronation."

He won, I see. Then that means that the dwarves will continue to help with the fight against Galbatorix.

I nod and hold on to the small horns that project from above his eyes. Yes, it means that we will once again have the dwarves as allies. And this means that our fight against that traitor will be easier and shorter, for with the elves in the north and the dwarves and Varden coming from the south, he will have nowhere to run, except to the sky. And that is where we can catch him. His dragon is probably huge, which means that you and Saphira are far more maneuverable. And I will take every advantage that we can get.

Here, here, we will show that traitor that he can only get away with his crimes for so long. And with that cheery thought, we arrive back in the city. And with Eragon and Saphira joining their thoughts with ours, a cacophony of chatter fills our minds as we discuss what we think we will see at a once in a lifetime event, the coronation of a dwarven king. Saphira briefly suffers an attack of hiccups before I use a spell to cure her. Though I do wait until Eragon and I have gotten enough laughter out of our systems.

With drums sounding, hundreds of dwarves crowd the halls of Tronjheim. Sorin and Saphira have a feast of sheep, though the wool does not settle easily in their stomachs. And with Eragon and I mounted on our dragons, the four of us take our place in the huge circle of important figures attending the coronation. And the ceremony takes place next to the huge red sapphire, which has been meticulously assembled at an absurd pace.

When Orik enters in his gleaming armor, he looks very impressive. But what delights me the most is the pink rose petals that fall from the ceiling. And when the priest, Gannel, calls for Guntera to crown Orik, I see and feel something inexplicable. A presence appears and puts a golden helm on Orik's head.

But as the presence vanishes, I cannot fathom what I have just seen. An apparition, feat of magic, or perhaps one of these elusive gods that the dwarves believe in. But whatever the case, the ceremony ends with Saphira and Sorin breathing huge jets of fire into the air, incinerating thousands of petals. The clan chiefs publicly pledge their allegiance to their new king, and so the celebrating begins.

When presenting the gifts to the king, Eragon and I go last. And when I come before Orik, I smile and give a slight curtsy. "Well met Your Majesty. I have a gift for you that I hope you will find useful." I stare at his armor and begin incanting spells, speaking for over a minute in my language. Then I close my eyes and open them to look into his eyes. "It is done. That armor will shield you from the effects of magic, which you may find useful if you ever choose to visit my people again. It also has life sustaining properties now, and an enhancement to its overall strength."

Orik chuckles loudly. "I will remember that if ever I see another elven saturnalia again. Thank you Your Highness."

Saphira projects her thoughts to everyone as she presents her gift, and she refuses even help from Eragon. As the dwarven choir sings, Saphira sways to the music and I feel a huge amount of energy suffuse her body. She touches her nose to the formerly shattered gemstone and light flashes though it. When the light dies down, the gem is whole again, but a richer shade of red, with streaks of gold in the innermost petals.

And with the gem restored, the day ends with celebrations almost equal to those of the elves, though with less magic and more drinking songs. Saphira and Sorin manage to empty barrel after barrel of ale, and it is a good thing that Sorin cannot fit into their drinking halls, otherwise everyone inside would have been cooked by the intensity of his flames.