A/N-Hello everyone! Thank you for all the reviews and support, and I am delighted to announce that I have officially chosen a co-author for this story- The talented ReviewMaster52497!
They have helped a great deal on this chapter and thanks to them there is quite a bit of length to this update! So hopefully, this means more frequent updates, and longer chapters. :D
Chapter 12- Remember Laughter?
Arya
Mairon paced back and forth, his voice not tempered being in the presence of his queen as he ranted about this stranger he had found. Arya found it to be a rather amusing disruption from the dull day-to-day proceedings of the courts of the elves. A never-ending parade of compliments, known by her to be nothing more than single moves in games that she couldn't even remember the beginning or cause of. She had known nothing but these politics since the day she was born, and it pleased her to have such a brisk change of pace when something like this disrupted the circadian placidness that permeated Tialdari Hall.
"I just don't know where he could have gone! He was right behind me, and the next moment he was not! Vanished! He couldn't have dissappeared like that! There's no way a human like him, not even a Rider, could accomplish such a feat!" Mairon slammed his fist into the wall, producing several cracks. "Where did he go?!"
Sensing he was on the brink of becoming uncontrollable, Arya interjected, waving her hand nonchalantly to repair the cracks. "Is it possible he's still within the city?"
The elf turned to face her, "If he is still here, he will have returned to the Crags. He wouldn't dare to stay within the city, not when he knows the riders are looking for him. I will go and find him at once. And this time I will bind him.
"No. I will go. " Arya said, standing and straightening the dress she wore. Mairon stepped back, flinching. He didn't expect her to interfere in such trivial matters, but it seemed as if she was curious about the stranger. Arya could see his speculations on his face, eyebrows pressed together, lips pursed, eyes looking downwards in thought. She spoke, and he glanced back up at her. "If he has returned to the Crags, he will flee at the sight of you, or might even have a more violent response. And this way, he doesn't have to be hauled back here. Firnen and I have not been there for quite some time. It will be nice to see their beauty again."
"My Queen! What if he tries to attack you?" Mairon asked, panic flashing in his eyes. He grew quiet and looked down, promptly realizing his rudeness.
A curious emotion from someone who is so sure of himself. He wishes to protect me, even though my power is far greater than his. "Could you defeat him in battle?"
"Of course I could!" He paused, and Arya could see he wanted to ask something he should not. " Do you question my prowess as a fighter?" He seemed affronted, but this was incivility at its height to question her as such.
"Do you question mine?" Arya asked quietly. He stared blankly at her, unsure how to respond. She was used to sycophantic behaviour, but this outburst in anger from Mairon was not his first, but was his most vehement. He usually apologised a great deal after his temper had diminished, thus she chose not to let his rudeness affect her. "When was the last time you bested me...?"
Mairon seemed to realize just how poorly he had executed this conversation. "My apologies, my queen. I did not mean to offend you. I only ask that you would allow me to come with you. There's no reason to not be overly cautious."
"I think not." Arya spoke slowly, choosing her words with great care. "Your mind is too clouded on this issue, and I would not like to reprimand you in front of this stranger. There are many young riders on the training grounds that need your attention. Please see to them, and allow me to handle the duties of the state."
Mairon bowed saying, "Of course. Your decisions, as usual, are ideal."
Is he mocking the sycophantic public? Or is he mocking me? If he was, he was very careful. She could not detect any sarcasm in his voice, and his eyes betrayed no emotion. "Very well. You are dismissed." He left the hall, his footsteps resounding with disappointment.
Mairon
He hadn't allowed himself to ever get so worked up in front of her before, and bitter regret seeped into his heart as he walked away from the hall. Something about this Arucane drove him to extremes he hadn't known existed in his emotions...something about him seemed so wrong. Unconventional. Odd...
Melkor's voice echoed in his head. It was not wise to insinuate that the queen would need anyone besides Firnen to protect her. She is a proud one.
I know that. Mairon growled. I just wanted to show her that I'm willing to do things for her that she need not do herself! I want her to see that I can give her anything she desires!"
Perhaps, but there's no reason that you would need to be chauvinistic in your approach. That is a trait best left for humans to display.
As usual, I am still on the wrong side of the fence. Mairon ended their conversation there, blocking out everything but the thinnest stream of feelings. He sighed wearily, trudging on through the forest. He was in no mood to talk or to be around anyone, too upset with how this day was turning out. He thought he'd be given praise at this point for his initiative in bringing the trespasser to Arya, but now he was shunned and ousted from his freedom to patrol the city and being sent to train the younglings. Again.
Rather than go to the training grounds, as Arya had suggested, he instead let his mind wander, his legs taking him through the forest, not sure where they were heading.
Eragon
Eragon stood on the edge of the Crags, looking over at the horizon,letting the beauty of the surrounding forest and the life that flowed from its every corner wash over him like a soothing river. He turned on his heel and strode back over to where he had been working. Many slabs of slate were laid out on the ground outside Oromis' hut. Fairths for the Agaeti Blodhren. A few had depictions on them of various people; Angela, Islanzadi, Arya, Murtagh, Oromis, Glaedr. Most were still completely blank, but the rest contained scenes of landscapes that few still remember. Eragon was only able to recreate them with Saphira's help, her memories filling in the gaps of his.
There was one of Du Weldenvarden seen from far above, clearly through the eyes of a dragon. One of the elves' raid on Ceunon. One of Farthen Dur and Tronjheim. One of the Star Rose. The war of the Burning Plains. The Ra'zaac. The citadel at Uru'baen. All of them told a tiny portion of the story that was the greatest three years of Eragon's life. 15 through 17...He had been so naive and young, so full of optimism and hope.
Look at what time does...I am old and world weary now, a stranger to the land I once called my home.
The fairths together showed the most powerful stories of his , they would weave an elaborate tale of pain, joy, loss, triumph, love won and love unrequited. He could see no other gift that would properly keep alive his feelings for the land that he had left so long ago and had thought of every day since. He still had much to do, as there were many more blank slates than there were filled ones. Worry passed through his mind. Is there enough time? There wouldn't be time before the celebration began, but maybe he could miss the beginning in order to finish his work. Perhaps Arya will remember as well...
Arya
She walked away from her throne and stood in front of the mirror she used for scrying. Murmuring the spell, a picture of Blodhgarm's home filled the glass. He was not present, and she absent mindedly dusted imaginary dust off of her dress. Waiting patiently, her mind wandered to the stranger on the Crags. It was obviously Arucane. Why has he taken refuge in sacred space? Surely he must know... Blodhgarm came in view, his fur bristling. He bowed, "My queen. How may I assist you?"
She lost her train of thought, focusing on the matter at hand.
"Blodhgarm, I must attend to something. I need you to come here and hold the throne for whoever might wish to speak with me. I will be gone for at least a couple hours." Arya hoped he wouldn't question her motives. He seemed to understand that she wouldn't appreciate his prying, and she pursed her lips pensively.
He merely inclined his head and said, "As you wish. I'll be there shortly." She waved her hand, ending the spell. and then exhaled tiredly.
As soon as the blue-furred elf arrived, Arya left and went to her personal chambers to change her clothes. The dress was for formal wear, her entertaining of nobles and anyone who wished to discuss matters of the state. However, she preferred her jerkin and leggings, she couldn't run in her dress. Besides, I'll go as Loivissa, she has met Arucane before, and it will arouse less suspicion.
As soon as she had left the leafy corridors of Tialdari Hall, she headed for the woods. Once she was sure she wasn't being watched, she cast her spells of deception to disguise herself. As Loivissa, she broke into a sprint, heading towards the Crags. It felt good to finally be a little wild. As she ran through the trees, jumping over roots and dodging past the various wildlife, she felt as if there was so much more to life that she had been missing out on. A deer looked up at her through the trees as she ran, snorting out as she blew past it. I am alive...
She couldn't even remember the last time she had held a sword, drawn a bow, or even the last time she had been outside the forest. Her thoughts grew distant and melancholic, the landscape blurring by her.
With her thoughts drifting, she came upon the cliff that marked the end of her journey quicker than expected. She looked up, and prepared to utter an ascension spell. Why bother? I am not Queen of the Elves. I can get my hands dirty. She contemplated using magic to ease her ascent but decided to do things the fun way. She bent down and picked up some dirt, which she rubbed between her hands to give them some more traction. Then, she clawed into the rock face, creating a hand sized hole. Propping herself on that with her feet, she began climbing. Hand over hand, she slowly ascended the hundreds of feet up to the top. About halfway, she stopped, her body aching for a brief respite. She used magic to soothe her blistered hands and aching muscles, and looked out, admiring the sun as it glistened off the dewdrops still in the afternoon air.
As she began climbing again, she was able to feel enormous amounts of magic seeping out from over the top of the cliff. Arucane. She recognised his unique presence, strong and powerful. Shielding her mind, she quickly worked her way up the last fifty or so feet, coming to stop just below the edge. She cast a spell to pull the rock face out a little underneath her so she could stand on the ledge and peer over it. It was him after all...
Arucane stood with his back to her, staring at something on the ground. She couldn't see much from where she was, but it looked like he was extremely frustrated with whatever it was that he was working on.
Curiosity eventually got the better of her, and she cloaked herself with spells of invisibility and crept up over the edge. Standing a mere fifteen feet behind him, she could see that there were dozens, if not hundreds, of slate slabs laid out before him, each with a fairth of ages long past. He had his eyes closed and was lost in thought, muttering something inaudible as he shaped the images within the slate. The incredible beauty and detail in them astonished her. How could he have seen these things? There are very few elves who still live that had seen the wars of so long ago. Even fewer who know Angela or Grimmr Halfpaw...who is he, really?
As she marveled at his creations, his lips pressed together, and he opened his eyes. She was about to jump back down to her ledge but she remembered her cloaking spells. Nevertheless, she held her breath as he gazed upon the slabs, trying to etch out every detail with determination and focus. Her breath faltered as she saw a bead of sweat forming upon his brow. This is a man with a drive. The faiths serve some purpose, clearly, but what?
Lost in thought as to what that might be, she failed to notice that he had turned and was looking right at her, mirth dancing in his eyes. They peered into her very soul, and she couldnt help but flinch. She felt naked. Quickly strengthening her mental shields, she worriedly hoped that he couldnt actually see her.
"You don't have to hide." Arucane's voice echoed through the clearing. "I mean no harm to any living being."
How...?
He looked at her and winked, as if answering her unspoken question with a refusal to dignify it with a response. "You can come out now." As he said this, he reached out and took a few of her stray hair, holding them between his fingers, smiling. "Hello."
Arya uncloaked herself, a blush rapidly spreading across her face. How foolish must I look?! I must have cast those spells in haste!
"What are you making?" she asked aloud.
"Is it not obvious? They are fairths." He raised an eyebrow.
"Allow me to rephrase. What are they for?"
"I believe it is customary to produce a gift for the Blood Oath, is it not? Since I have no notable talent that can be displayed without a great deal of suspicion being cast on me, I have instead chosen to give of my own knowledge, and that of knowledge given to me. These, when finished, should accurately display the wars that came to pass, leading to the renewal of the pact with the dragons, as well as the peace the land has had since." Arucane gestured to the fairths laying behind him. "These are but a small portion of what I will have done by the time the Agaeti Blodhren commences."
Arya studied him for a moment before asking, "How is it that you know of this? Are you not a stranger to these lands? You say you came from the north, and Du Weldenvarden is the furthest north of all of Alagaesia."
Arucane's eye twinkled as he responded, "I travel. Besides, there are many other methods of acquiring knowledge."
Arya sighed, almost rolling her eyes. It feels good to converse like this, as equals. "You sound just like her." She pointed at the fairth of Angela and Solembum in his cat form rubbing up against the side of her leg.
Arucane laughed. "Yes, I can see why that answer would seem like one of hers. I have gotten similar responses from her many times myself."
"So you know the herbalist? Was she the one that told you of these things?"
Arucane shifted, "Some of them. This work is merely something compiled by me, not necessarily out of any one source." He is hiding something, but that is obvious.
Arya nodded, content for now with what she had learned of him. "I heard that you had some trouble with one of the locals, by being here."
The sparkle returned to his eye as he chuckled, "Oh yes, he was quite displeased that I would be bold enough to seek refuge in an abandoned house, far from causing anyone any sort of displeasure."
"I think he was more concerned with preserving the memory of those that used to live here." He has made a fairth of Oromis and Glaedr, more accurate than any I've ever seen. In fact, I am almost sure he would have seen them with his own eyes. She looked at him expectantly.
Arucane contemplated this for a moment before slowly asking, "Possibly, but if the ones that used to live here still lived, would they turn away a weary traveler seeking rest as he prepared for the upcoming celebration?"
Arya smiled, "No, I think quite the opposite. Tell me, have you ever heard the tale of Oromis and Glaedr?" She looked at his face, waiting for a mistake or nervous tic that would reveal his secrets.
His eyes suddenly unfocused, pulling backwards, as if seeing more than just her. It was as if he was looking at the entire universe at once. It was as if he was diving into a well of thought, trying to retrieve some long lost memories. Those eyes. They are old eyes. Very old.
He most definitely had met Oromis-elda. That much is clear as his teeth are.
But that would make him...
Arucane smiled back, suddenly "No, I don't think I have. I know the names, and if I'm not mistaken, they were dragon and Rider, were they not?"
"Dragon and Rider, yes. But they were so much more. Compatriot, teacher, elder, council, confidant, warrior, artist. All of these titles would have applied to them both. Their story begins when Oromis was eighty-two years old, and the dragon Glaedr hatched for him…"
She began telling the story, and he listened eagerly, but his eyes betrayed the truth. He already knew this.
Older even than Firnen...
Eragon
Eragon was enraptured with this strange elf maiden who had sought him out seemingly of her own accord. She was beautiful, but she also appeared to have wisdom beyond the years that her youthful face portrayed. Her mind was open, but it was cold, shut off at most places. It was like a sealed fortress that invited guests but trapped them if they ventured in places they shouldn't. She continued narrating the story, as he studied the beauty in her eyes, specks of emerald within the deep blue. He hung onto every word that dropped from her lips as she wove a tale of great adventure that had taken Oromis and Glaedr from apprentices to Riders, from Riders to teachers, and from teachers to keepers of the final secrets of their order, which they had imparted to him and Saphira. She told of their final days, and as she described the underhanded trickery Galbatorix had used to slaughter them, small tears fell from her eyes. She tried to wipe them away without him noticing, biting her lip as she frowned.
"You cared for them very deeply," he observed.
"They struck a chord in every person's heart who had the great fortune of meeting them." She looked off into the distance, sniffling in an attempt to stymie the flow of tears.
"What about you?" Eragon asked her, "What is the story of Loivissa?"
She laughed, the sound like bells ringing a harmonious melody in his mind. "That tale is not nearly as interesting, and is probably best saved for another time."
Eragon had the good sense not to press any further, and instead settled for the quiet companionship of watching the sun sink ever closer to the horizon. "Would you like some tea?" he asked.
She nodded, and he withdrew into Oromis' hut, quickly boiling water in two cups with magic before placing the leaves in them to soak. He returned shortly, handing her a cup as they sat on the ground, staring out over the cliff.
"Is Angela still alive?"
Loivissia cast him a sideways glance. "Yes, she seems to defy the march of time much like we elves do, and yet appears to be fully human. I dread to think what kind of fungi she has to eat to maintain that complexion."
Eragon choked on the tea he was drinking as waves of laughter overtook him, making him shake as he half-coughed and half-laughed, attempting to clear his throat to get air back into his lungs. "It can't be as bad as the gruel that the dwarves disguise as food." Loivissa's set her teacup down, smirking with genuine mirth that reached her eyes, and Eragon felt his breath catch in his lungs. She looked up at him and smiled even brighter.
"No, not quite as bad as that. You'd think that being so in tune with the ground would allow them to be able to tell what kind of dirt is good for planting."
They sipped the rest of their tea in relative silence. When Eragon got up to wash the cups, an idea struck him as he absent mindedly scrubbed them. A gift, to a maiden so fair and kind.
He walked back out carrying a small sack of burlap, and knelt in front of Loivissa, placing his hand above the ground in front of her. He sang songs of life and of growth, and slowly a green stalk emerged from the ground. He sang and sang, thickening the stalk and elongating it, growing a bud on the head that blossomed into a blue lily. When he was satisfied with the outcome, he scooped it out of the ground, keeping the roots with the soil that they had grown in, and placed them into the small burlap sack so she could replant it elsewhere.
He handed it to her, and several emotions flashed across her features; joy, grief, appreciativeness, longing, regret, coming to rest on a vapid expression of which he could discern no actual emotion. She took the gift, and as he said, "A beauty that can't rival yours, try as it might."
She rose, a stoic expression on her face, emptiness in her eyes, and stared at him for a few seconds. He held her gaze, waiting for her to speak, but she did not, choosing to turn away. taking a deep breath, and jumping off the edge of the cliffs.
Eragon was left trying to figure out what he had done wrong. As the sunlight disappeared below the horizon, he was left sitting on the Crags of Tel'naeir alone, despising his attempt to further things with the mysterious elf.
A/N- I hope you enjoyed the change in pace and advancement in plot, some of the reviews were pretty interesting about such matters.
Anyway, guess I can't make everyone happy. Hope you liked the chapter! If you did, leave a review! My co-author will see if they can respond to a few of them (the ones that actually have helpful criticisms/questions) So leave a review!
Au revoir,
ZoSo7MoS
