Disillusion Reflection
"Tamunora, my dear, you need rest. Why don't you go to bed?" I vaguely heard Angela to my left.
"No thank you." I replied, stiffly sitting upon the chair.
"Tamunora, your dedication is admirable but you look exhausted and Eragon will not wake for many more hours." I recognised the voice as the dwarf's.
"I will be fine." I murmured, reaching for my magic to give my strength to him when I could.
"Tamunora, you risk death expending all this energy into Eragon. Allow him to save himself." That was the elf, but her words made me hesitate. Emereldo looked at me. We have been here for too long. We should allow Saphira to stay with Eragon – you're acting too emotional to remain sensible in front of these people, and Arya is beginning to suspect something.
Arya? Is she the elf?
Yes. I do not wish to offend you, but you're closer to ghost than a human.
If that's what it takes. Eragon must wake up.
For what reasons? Your own, or the Empire's?
Before I could answer that, Murtagh was suddenly beside me, and placed his hand on my shoulder, "May we speak in private, Tamunora? You promised to hear my question."
I looked from Eragon to Murtagh, torn, but Angela jumped up, and ushered us out, exclaiming, "Why must you fight a battle that has already been won? Eragon will be fine, you'll see." Murtagh took my arm and steered me away from the room along the glowing corridor outside, lit by little red lanterns.
We walked along in a comfortable silence, our footsteps in swinging symphony dancing and colliding between and into the walls. I looked up at him, and he smiled at me, and I reciprocated. He laughed, and said, "You look nice when you smile."
"Thank you. So do you; why don't you smile more? Urgals aren't here to kill you, nor do the Varden want to skin you...or, at least, not at the moment."
He scuffed the ground awkwardly, "I haven't known you for very long, but you know why."
I nodded, but I pointed out, "Yet that was the past! If we didn't shrug off the heavy weight of our pasts, we would never reach the top of the mountain."
"True." We turned right into a corridor lit with green lanterns, which cheered me significantly, and I jokingly pranced around in the light, dodging the shadows it threw at me, making Murtagh snigger, "You're a curious one, Tamunora." He commented, but he joined in my game, flicking to and fro like the action of an eyelid blinking down and up. We kept this up until I slipped on an unseen wet patch, and he caught me before I could hit the floor, holding me in that position, arms against mine, so absurdly close that I shivered inwardly.
I looked upwards, and saw his features far clearer than I could on any summer's day; it was almost as if someone had finally opened the heavily locked door with an almighty shove, and I found something that I didn't expect. It held a quality almost comparable to Eragon's visage, and I felt my breath catch when I saw it, so clear and bright above me, all around me...
I felt my tongue leading me into the previously unseen room, "Murtagh, what was the question you wanted to ask?"
He hesitated, and pulled me up into a more dignified position, smoothing down his jerkin self consciously, "It's not...it's not easy for me to ask such a question because of my current situation...and it would be too presumptuous to demand the answer I desire...and – and it would be unfair to impose my situation on you." I began to form a hunch on what he was to say, which caused my knees to tremble as if they wished to carry me somewhere far, far away, but I forced myself to stay, "So before I ask you, will you promise in the ancient language to not tell anyone of this event?"
Easy enough, I thought, however my underlying suspicions, "Eka celobra yawë nosu." I honour our pact. I wondered privately if Murtagh understood any of the ancient language I spoke, and hoped feverently that he did.
His face relaxed, and he looked me into the eyes, and said, "I have known this deep inside, from the moment that this one woman saw me as a human, and not just a creation of Morzan and the Black Hand, a thing that people want to just shove out of sight quickly, a mistake that shouldn't have happened...You are so different to me, Tamunora, yet you have shown me a respect that only Eragon has equalled." He breathed in, a gust of wind that carried us up out of the mountain, up into the sky above where I knew stars were beginning to saunter in to come and see the events of the night, "Tamunora, I am in love with you, and I would like to ask; are you in love with me?" His dark eyes delved into mine, enticing, powerful...the same as Eragon's, but different. The pain fades, but the scars remain, and it showed.
At first, I floundered in these troubled waters; what was I expected to reply? I could lie, but that would further complicate the situation, as Emereldo...his emotions and mine overlapped, and he would struggle to bond with Murtagh as he and Saphira are becoming attached, and also my newly discovered feelings for Eragon made me want to scream 'No!' at Murtagh for standing in my way, as if I carried a precious bundle and I thought him a thief. Yet if I told the truth, I would lose an important ally, and I knew Murtagh would be dangerous enemy, and he had never had anything in his life...
Yet before I could answer, his expression changed. His mouth became a straight, solemn line, and I cringed at what I knew he would say, so I prepared myself for the hard, gritty landing.
"I see. I tried to deny it to myself, but I should have seen it earlier. You are in love with Eragon, and your only interest in me is because I'm his friend." I felt my jaw drop, and I quickly began to protest wildly, but just like the first rough encounter, he clamped his hand roughly over my mouth, "Why is it that you chose him? He is still young and immature, whilst I am older and mature beyond my years, and we have much more in common. Eragon depends on others, whilst we work alone."
I smacked his hand away furiously, "That's because he had a different upbringing to you! He was able to depend on others as he grew up, whilst all your parents gave you was a flutter of life and a scar upon your back, as the story goes. You are no worse or better than him; you are just different. As for why I chose him, I have no choice in the matters of the heart. As you know full well, no one does! In fact, who has a choice in most of the things they do?"
He sneered, but I saw a tear well up in one of his eyes, "Such as you being a dragon rider? Oh yes, it sounds very cosy; Emereldo and Saphira falls in love, and Tamunora and Eragon fall in love. And what about Murtagh? Oh, he was a mistake; let's just sweep him out of sight so no one must worry about him causing trouble. Why can't I stand up and say what I think, what I believe? Why is it that not even one thing in my life works out?" The tears began to escape, spilling down his cheeks, creeping secrets padding out in front of me. Guilt being my driving force, I reached my arm around my shoulders, in order to comfort him, but he shoved it away, and glared at me, an attack from a blade I could not dodge.
"Don't touch me! My life is worth nothing to you. You give me sympathy, but it was a light, lazy touch, just enough so it could be covered in honey for me to be enticed by your capricious ways. So I think the only path forwards is to die, which will make you realise what you have rejected. No one will know of what has just occurred, but I doubt they will ask where I even gone, let alone whether I'm dead or not." He began laughing, a laugh that reminded me of a tree or a large rock falling towards you; it held a paralysing inevitable note, "At least an Urgal can get a Ram with my shed blood!" He shoved past me and began to stalk away.
"Murtagh!" I cried, shaken, "Your life means something to me; it's just it's not how you want it to be. It means so much to me that I want to see you grow, to love, to embrace peace within yourself, but my heart cannot be shifted like a scales, nor is yours."
He looked back at me, and simply said, "You haven't led a life where happiness came hand in hand with the blue moon. Farewell, Tamunora Dreamslayer. You have delivered my final blow." He disappeared into the dusty distance.
I fell to the ground onto my knees. I felt them hurt, but my body felt so numb that I wouldn't have noticed if a snake came to bit me, and left me to bleed until nothing within me remained, if there was anything left for my body to lose, as I was completely, utterly drained, Murtagh's words echoing like an out of tune song. It was excruciating, maddening...
I don't know how long I was there; I wouldn't have cared whether it was a few seconds or three hundred years, as my mind began to leave me and all that remained was Murtagh's hurt face reverberating from the finest tips of my hair to the tickles of my toes, his entire sanity stripped away just by my foolish indecision. It was not until I felt the warming itch of a blanket carefully gathered around my shoulders, and a person lifting me softly, carrying me...carrying me home...
Home...where is it?
Where you believe it to be, Tamunora. A voice, speaking in the Ancient Language; the mere sound of it gave me strength.
I felt my mind vaguely jolt. Sorry, but who are you?
The soft consciousness stroked my own, allowing peace to begin cleansing my wounds. I am an elf, and my people have named me Aiedail, which means...
Morning Star, yes. I wondered privately who in all of Alagaësia the elf actually was.
You carry a powerful name Tamunora, and you attempt too much, and too early, to shoulder the full implications. Allow yourself some time gather the strength, allow yourself to make mistakes, and most of all allow yourself to know when to stop. I have directed Arya to your location, and she is taking you to where you belong.
Home? I asked hopefully, wondering what mother would make of it all, and how she would react when I wasn't with father.
No, to where you belong. It may not feel like home yet, but as a dragon rider, it is perhaps too much to presume that home is what is was.
I was alarmed, You mean that my family-?
No, do not fret. They are all still alive, but don't know if you are. Yet don't always assume that where your family is, is where home is. It's where the heart is.
I felt the soft cushioning effect of Arya sitting me on a chair, and she hurrying over to someone who was attempting to stand up. With a rush of pleasure, I realised who it was, and I felt a welling of proud, uncensored joy twist happily inside of me. You are right, Aiedail. I don't understand my heart yet, but I am sure that I will one day, and so know where home is. No map can navigate me in these lands...
You are wise for your age, Tamunora, but whilst no map can indeed direct you easily and with no effort, no one leaves on a journey without some direction to travel in. Come to Ellesméra, and let us be your guardians. We shall not lead you, but we shall teach you and train you so you may travel with more needed haste.
"Tamunora? Are you all right? You have been gone for two days! What happened?" Arya's musical voice was strained.
Follow the Northern pattern – your map shall reveal our location. Her voice drifted away as my mind warmed to its surroundings, and I found myself sitting in the chair beside Eragon's bed, as if nothing at all had happened, apart from Murtagh had...well, been "swept away".
"I have been given a way to go." A ghost of a smile dusted my dry mouth, and I coughed, "Which is more than can be said for Murtagh."
The next day, rested, cleansed and energised, with the previous events slinking away behind me back in the dimly lit corridors of my memory, but were complaining of my departure, I packed my bag, and I tied it to the saddle I had made from magic and leather I have bought from the Varden's tanner that morning to place on Emereldo's back. I had decided that it would be necessary after discovering how much the holding magic weakened me in the battle of Farthen Dûr, and that I wished to travel in more comfort than before.
I strapped the bag to Emereldo, along with a new bow and set of arrows, which I had never had before, and was a present from Ajihad in gratitude for my help with the Varden. Nasuada, his very patient and energetic daughter, tried to teach how to use it, but I kept dropping it, so I promised that I would practise as I travelled.
Your eyes have increased in weight. Emereldo observed worriedly. He felt guilty for not coming for me when I needed him; He had been preoccupied with looking after Saphira. I did not admonish him; however, as I knew that even if he tried to help me, it would not solve the problem that my hesitation had created.
Aye. They feel like it too. But all I need is time to give me the strength, as Aiedail said.
He inclined his head; He had heard what she had said to me. I suppose so...but I have been a bad friend towards you. I hatched for you because I believed, down in the depths of my consciousness, that you would be the right partner for life. I cannot just turn around on my decision, even if it was one when I wasn't even a hatchling, just because my selfish desires are too powerful for me to resist.
I shook my head, vehemently disagreeing with him, and leaned against his hard, but warm scales, his right wing a soft, leathery canvas above me, a pale green sky above me, genteel to the eye. Everyone has selfish desires, and a true friend can accept their friend's as they realise that they have the same ones. I have my own selfish desires; I hide you so Eragon doesn't know who I am, and so I can advance this relationship more easily with you acting as a bridge. Do not take more blame than you are due, which is none, as it is for me, and for the whole world, even the King. He never chose to be who he is, and to change would be impossible.
He touched me with his snout, eyes glittering and shimmering in the streaming light. Little one...
There was a loud scream down below, followed by much crying and a multitude of oaths, some of which I had never heard of before. Taking a mental note to remember them, I inched over to the edge of the former Isidar Mithrim, and peered over.
Ants raced around the circular hill, around the bitter red drops of the shattered glass, frantically calling for each other, exchanging pieces of paper, a heartfelt tear, a soft condolence. Amongst it all, I saw Eragon and Nasuada stood amongst them all, still, staring into space, all energy soaked by the defeat on their faces. Fearing the worse, I called for them.
"Eragon, what has happened? I came up here to find you, but you weren't here...Nasuada, also, please explain, if you can bear it." The lie I told Eragon stung me, but it would have looked suspicious otherwise.
Nasuada shook her head, so Eragon looked me in the eyes in such a way that thrilled me, and said, as blandly as he could bear, "Ajihad is dead. Murtagh and two other magicians have been captured, and presumed dead also."
I clapped my hands to my mouth, my heart not only stinging from Ajihad's death and those two magicians capture, but how Murtagh wasn't lying; he was willing to kill himself to hit me where it hurt the most.
Well, it has worked. Perhaps too well. I thought grimly, and with renewed vigour, I fitted the saddle upon Emereldo, knowing that it was urgent that I would have to leave, even though I shouldn't have.