A/N: ELLO EVERYBODY! I'M BACK! Did you miss me? HAHA. I sincerely apologise for the long wait I put you through. This author had much on her plate as she just started her first semester of university. She did not want to shortchange the final chapters of her story just because she was busy. Because she loves the followers of this story. And also she does not want to be a quitter. She also has no idea why she is typing in third person, but seeing that it is 4am in the morning, she begs for your forgiveness. Insanity hits in the wee hours of morning. She also bids thee to please write a review in light of her hiatus and insanity to keep her updated on her writing because she feels that she is extremely rusty. She hereby thanks you and expresses that she misses all of the readers.
In the field just south of Uru'baen, twilight was falling; the sun's rays barely peeked out from the horizon. A light breeze tickled the long blades of grass, ruffling Nasuada's intricately combed hair.
Nasuada smiled as she addressed the people of the Varden, the Surdans, the Urgals, Dwarves and Elves. Inwardly, however, she ground her teeth and cursed Eragon, Murtagh and their dragons. Of all times to see to personal matters, this could have been the worst! Eragon—that fool had called for a feast and left Nasuada to clean his mess up once Arya left for Ellesmera. He was not even following Arya to ensure her well being, but went in the opposite direction of Dras Leona instead. It did not help that most of the Eldunari including Glaedr and Umaroth went with the elves to help with the process. And Murtagh—what personal matter could he possibly see to? Sad as she was to acknowledge this, everyone whom Murtagh cared about was either in the Varden or dead. She mentally cringed.
However, promises must be kept. Speeches must be given. Nasuada stepped up onto the make shift stage and surveyed the crowd; the different races were separated from each other, each shooting covert, suspicious glances at the others. Curious. She raised her arms to call for quiet, and then began talking;
"People of the Alliance, I bid thee welcome to this feast. This celebration was called by the Dragon Rider Eragon in order to honour our victory over the dark king, Galbatorix! This day belongs not only to me, King Orrin, or any of the other rulers, but to you as well, for your efforts, your sacrifices, and your blood, have let us seen the dawn of another day! This day also belongs to those who gave up their lives and limbs so that the dark shadow has been chased from this land. Hail, our victorious dead!"
"Hail, the victorious dead!" The Alliance cheered in unison.
"This day has also come not only because of our victory, but also of our mistakes. We have been so mistrusting and suspicious of our fellow friends and allies that we have allowed Galbatorix to take advantage of that, and used this divergence to drive us further apart. We were weak when we were apart, and if we had not drawn together at the last moment, Galbatorix could still be ruling us now."
She paused for effect, surveying them all. Many shifted their feet while muttering incoherent words, some, like the dwarves, exchanged looks of anger, the others, like the elves, urgals, and werecats, merely looked impassive.
"I bid all of you now, to look around you, and see not beings different from you, but as your allies and friends who fought by your side, whose lives you had saved and who have saved your lives in times of your utmost need." Nasuada gestured to the representatives of the different races who stood behind her. "As it is, I will never forget the many arms of friendships that have been extended to me in times of my gravest need. Thus, my friends," Nasuada turned to face Orrin, Orik, Garzhvog, Grimr, and the new Elven ambassador, Vanir. "you have my utmost gratitude." And she bowed to them. They inclined their heads in return, with the sole exception of Garzhvog, who accepted the mark of respect and returned it by baring his throat to her.
Smiling slightly, she turned back to the Alliance. "Such is the purpose of this feast. As you have all been informed by your respective leaders, each race has prepared food and wine native to your own culture. Tonight, I urge all of you to taste the food and wine of your friends, and offer yours in friendship. Tonight, let us honour our victory and our dead! Let the feast begin! The dwarves sounded a gong, and a roar of noise assaulted Nasuada as people began to disperse to break bread and wine with laughter and glee.
Nasuada scanned the crowd.
There were five long tables with steaming food, and barrels of wine on it. The food was arranged, by Eragon's suggestion, such that each table had a mix of the five different races' food. As such, it encouraged as much interaction as possible.
She saw a little girl of six years with blond curls in a faded blue frock carry a goblet of what appeared to be the juice of the vinbr fruit over to the elves, spilling half of the juice on her frock despite her best efforts. She tugged on the tunic of one of the male elves, staining it purple, and offered the drink to him, mumbling something drowned by the cacophony of noise and blushing crimson as she did. The young elf grinned, took the goblet, knelt on one knee and proffered a biscuit to her. He held her hand and introduced her to his friends, barely concealing his smugness. They talked and laughed.
She saw a she- dwarf clasping the arm of a human woman, and apparently cracking a joke for both of them threw their heads back in laughter.
She saw an urgal ram and a dwarf exchanging their meat tentatively, before their expressions changed and they slapped each other on the back with sublime satisfaction on their faces.
Nasuada closed her eyes and allowed herself a smile.
This is what I fought for. This was the exact reason why she had staked everything, all her pain, effort and emotions; to see her people happy, content, and at peace with the other races. She recalled everything she had lost to get her here: her father, her pride and her arms. She thought of her abuse in Galbatorix's dungeon and the piece of her, all the remnants of her innocence and illusions of the world that was left behind when Murtagh rescued her. How can I… how can we ever recover from the war? How can we? She winced, wanting to hug herself, Eragon, Saphira, Murtagh, or…Just someone. Elva, standing in the shadows before this, sidled up to her, and tugging Nasuada to her height, whispered to her,
"You will heal, your majesty, whatever the hurt, you will heal with time and effort. But you must try. No one can make you stand unless you want to, and you should; otherwise, Galbatorix would already have won. Look at your people, Nasuada. They hurt, they are in pain." Elva laughed bitterly. "Trust me, I know. But they are trying. They are trying to forge new relationships for those that they lost. Look at your people, Nasuada, and get your strength, for that is where your people get theirs."
Nasuada glanced up, and looked; a woman, huge with pregnancy, was laughing loudly at a joke someone cracked, but when she turned away, her face crumbled with pain, and she struggled to mask it before returning to the group. Likewise, all around the camp, people hid emotions of pain behind masks of joy, and cries of laughter erupted all around.
The cry of laughter. Nasuada smiled at the irony of this phrase.
She laughed sheepishly, thoroughly chastised by Elva's words. Her people need her strength, and she will give it to them and lose herself in the celebrations. So she turned to the other leaders, still waiting patiently behind her to start, gave an impish smile of invitation, and proceeded hop off the four foot stage to enjoy the feast. Adhering to her own words, she headed straight to an urgal dish. It featured a roasted hog drenched in a thick stew. She was at a loss as to how to start when Nar Garzhvog appeared behind her with the rest of the Alliance leaders.
"Your Majesty, this is garzant ikdi, the swimming hog. It is our great delicacy, and only the greatest rams get to eat this special part of the hog." Garzhvog indicated an area around the hind leg of the hog. "Amongst my people, the ram who won most battles single-handedly, gets to eat the hog first…" Garzhvog gave a summary of their ways and customs, which Nasuada listened with curiosity, occasionally asking a question or two. Thus, the party of leaders went around sampling the delicacies and cultures of Alagaesia.
Uru'baen looks like a swarm of fireflies from up here, Saphira noted. Eragon laughed. , it was true, it was lit by many torches that looked like fireflies at the height that Saphira was at. Eragon's trip has proved more productive than he had ever expected. As a result, he was filled with a mixture of ecstasy and excitement. He fingered the things in his pocket and grinned, boyishly eager for the surprise that he was to give Arya when they next met. A distant, growing speck in the thinning horizon made Eragon squint and Saphira worry. Eragon projected his thoughts and realized that it was Murtagh and Thorn. Eragon raised his eyebrows. I never knew Murtagh left Uru'baen.
Perhaps he needed to settle some matters that he has not told us about.
Hm. Perhaps.
Curious, Eragon and Saphira approached the red dragon and his rider. Smiling, Eragon hailed his brother and Thorn, shouting over the wind.
"Joining the celebrations now, are we, brother?"
His brother seemed elated as well. "More than you can imagine, youngling!"
Eragon laughed. "You're not much older than I am, old one. Now, let's enjoy the celebrations and be merry! The last to have their feet on the Uru'baen is a sour glass of milk!"
Murtagh grinned, his teeth gleaming in the amber light, and without a signal, Thorn angled his wings and soared towards Uru'baen. Eragon cursed beneath his breath when Saphira tilted towards the earth, and, flapping her wings magnificently, skimmed the land while gaining on Thorn. Eragon saw the plan in her mind and, under the cover of the growing shadows, unbuckled the restraints on his arms and feet. He laughed exuberantly as Uru'baen and Thorn grew in size. Thorn and Murtagh seemed to understand Saphira's plan as they went into a straight dive even as Saphira approached the celebrating company.
Even as Thorn pulled out of his dive, Saphira arched her wings and extended her hind legs, as if to catch prey. Eragon took this chance and jumped off Saphira, even as Murtagh did. Both brothers rolled as they smacked into the ground, as Saphira smoothly landed on her four legs. Thorn, however, crashed with all the momentum behind him, his head bouncing on his long neck. Eragon and Murtagh caught each other's gaze and broke out in gales of laughter. Crowds started to gather around them, and even Saphira shuffled her wings with amusement.
Thorn lifted his head and stood up regally, ignoring the throngs of arriving people, and busied himself with grooming his left paw, strategically hiding his face from view. As Eragon's laughter subsided, he examined the crowd that gathered. All the different races, excluding the Ra'zac, were gathered, and feasting on a multitude of different food. That was when Eragon realized he was starving.
"Come, brother, let us feast."
Murtagh nodded in response. They headed towards the nearest table, arm on shoulder of the other, with Saphira and Thorn following shortly behind them. They were like hungry storms, eating everything in their way as they made their way around the tables. Many came to talk mostly to Eragon but some also to converse with Murtagh, albeit a little suspiciously. Some congratulated them, some tried to manipulate them, others to seek a boon or two, but Eragon was in such great spirits that he refused to allow them to dampen his spirits. So he just politely suggested for everyone to enjoy the meal, for food, peace and laughter were the spoils of their labour and everything else could wait, now did it not? Most people slinked away sourly, others had to be scared away by either dragon, but they mostly had enough space to enjoy their meal.
As they got halfway throught their first table, Eragon felt a tap on his shoulder, and turned to see Angela by his side, with her hands on her hips, grinning at him. He found himself grinning back in return.
"Always quite the entrances now, are we? Well, I suppose its difficult to not make an entrance when you're a rider, and such a colourful pair, too." She gestured towards Murtagh, who had caught Nasuada's gaze and now was excusing himself from the conversation. Nasuada was with Roran and the other leaders, gathered around a round table. Some indicated for him to join them. Eragon smiled, indicating that he needed a few moments before he joined them; he wanted to talk to the herbalist. Then he turned and smiled knowingly at Murtagh, and Angela, of the rare people who seemed perfectly at ease with Murtagh, jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow and wiggled an eyebrow at him before he could finish his sentence. His continued, dazed expression drew guffaws from both Eragon and her, with Angela shouting "Just go! Good luck and don't let the Nargles catch you!"
Eragon stopped short. "Nargles?"
"They get in through your ears and make your brain go… Oh, never mind, you wouldn't understand."
"Well, I would if you'd explain it to me! And how do you know these things?" Eragon complained.
"Ha! There are things that are out of this world, even for a rider like you. As for me, well, I am a god, so naturally I will know these things.'
"You are a god? That's impossible, how could—"
Angela cut him off with an impatient sound. "Open your mind," She said, tapping him on his temple. "You asked me a question and since I'm in a particularly good mood, I'll answer your questions, nitwit. If the entity that created this world is a god, then his sister would be an omnipotent being who knows the workings of this world and others much better then you, wouldn't she?"
"But if you're a… god, then where is the god that created us? Is he amongst us too? So you created us?" he said with incredulity.
Angela smiled, plucking a dried plum into her mouth. "Then again, you'll never know. Haven't the prophesies I'd made come true?" she winked at him. "Except for the last one, not yet. Or maybe not, I could just be pulling your leg, you know?" She laughed and strode off into the night. Eragon gazed after her, nonplussed, before shaking his head and turning to Saphira.
Do you want to try some of this food? They are delicious.
Feed me, human. Saphira replied with twinkling eyes, before opening her jaws.
Don't sneeze, or I'll get roasted. Eragon replied while cutting off a large portion of a fragrant roasted goat and tossing it into Saphira's maw. Her jaws snapped shut and she licked her chops.
What a tasty morsel. Did Roran prepare this? It seems like it of his hand.
Let's ask him then.
He made his way to them and hugged his cousin and his wife, who introduced Eragon to the conversation after the pleasantries were over.
"Garzhvog here was just showing us a most delightful finger wrestling game. The aim is to clench your hands as such," She demonstrated the clench, with all her fingers hiding in Roran's palm, and Roran's fingers in hers, with only their thumbs sticking out like…sore thumbs. "The purpose then, is to pin your opponents thumb under yours for ten seconds."
Eragon was intrigued. This was a game that anyone could play, from little toddlers to the old and toothless. "Care to challenge this thumb?" Eragon wiggled his thumb. "The stake shall be…" He glanced around the celebrations when he caught a glance of a large flagon on ale. He took it and slammed it onto the table. The ale sloshed around noisily. "…This. The loser shall down the remainder of what is here." A laugh went around the table.
"I shall, Firesword," Nar Garzhvog finally replied. "I have not had such competition in awhile, where nothing is at stake but a mere flagon of ale."
Roran laughed. "I'm betting against you for this one, cousin. Just for the fun of it."
Eragon laughed as well, "You are helping me with that flagon if I lose, then!" and prepared himself, spreading his legs into a wider stance. Then he gripped Garzhvog's enormous hand. Nasuada facilitated this game.
"Ready? On one, two, three!"
They wrestled back and forth, with Roran and Katrina cheering for Eragon and the urgals for Garzhvog. Eventually, it gathered enough attention from the crowds. Even Nasuada and the other leaders were egging them on.
Eragon was well concentrated on the game. He knew that the urgal had the advantage of strength and size. Even with his heightened speed and strength, the urgal could still easily pin his fingers down due it its sheer size. So he used his greater speed and agility, stretching his thumbs into positions that even the urgal, in all his strength and size, could not reach. Then he charged Garzhvog in a sudden, blindingly fast move. The urgal, however, had anticipated that. He twisted out of Eragon's pin by moving his thumb downward through a groove in Eragon's hand, and ended up pinning the base of Eragon's thumb so that he was immobilized, and his thumb hurt whenever he tried to wriggle free of Garzhvog's grip.
The crowd collectively counted to ten, then cheered as Garzhvog emerged the winner! He roared with triumph together with everyone present and pumped his fist in the air while Eragon laughed sheepishly and stared at Roran pointedly. Garzhvog took the flagon and downed a quarter of the flagon in three gulps, the held it out to Eragon as a sign of friendship.
"Experience does lend a hand to this game, Firesword!"
Eragon replied with a laugh, "We shall meet here, next year and battle it out again, then!" and he took the flagon in his hands, then proceeded to gulp down the remainder of the flagon, holding it upturned over his head to signal that it was empty. Saphira roared with Eragon's elation and loosed a jet of blue-streaked fire.
The crowd screamed with excitement, for Eragon had just opened a door for the remainder of the celebrations, challenges were made, won, and lost. But there was one thing in common; it involved everyone drinking until they were inebriated.
Even Saphira contended in some of the challenges (some with humans, some with Thorn): of blowing smoke rings, moving various body parts and— one which she always won—eating.
At the height of the celebrations, Murtagh climbed onto the table and shouted for silence. Eragon grinned and shared a look with Saphira. Then Murtagh shouted for all to hear:
"Many of you do know that before this, most of my life has not been mine to live. I intend to remedy that, and make up for all my lost time as soon as I can. Which is why I want to marry the woman of my dreams now—" A few hoots permeated the air. "That is why I had left, to ponder on what I should give her to signify that I am hers, all of me. That is why I chose to give her my armour." He paused to lift a thin, one-piece chain mail that covered one's limbs. "This will save anyone from blades of shadow, deceit and lies. It was given to me by the greatest man I ever knew, the man who I treated as my father, Tornac.
"I have always worn it, and it has protected me from many. It made me suspicious of everyone, and everything they do. But now I remove the armour that has protected me to the one that made it unnecessary with her love and trust—" and he helped Nasuada on the table he was standing on, then folded the armour, went down on one knee and proffered the folded armour to her. "And I ask her to marry me."
Nasuada raised her face skyward, and the tears that streamed down her face glimmered in the torchlights' rays. Then she opened her eyes, and reached down to take the armour and Murtagh's hands, embracing him. Then she breathed a word so soft that even Eragon, with his heightened senses, almost missed: "Yes."
A/N: Hey guys! There you have it! Sorry for the uberlong chapter, but well, I had a lot of plans for the few months of hiatus, and seeing that the end is near ( next planned update), I seek your understanding. I think I have raised quite a few questions in this chapter, provided a few answers, and provided a lot in store for you next update, which will include a chapter, an Epilogue, as well as a heart-to-heart Author's note, so please stay tuned! Thankee!