Disclaimer: Paolini owns the inheiritance cycle, even if he forgets to write it.
Author's Note: Here it is, another chapter. Slash shippers grab your glasses, Eragon's angry and Murtagh's sleeping over. Hope you all enjoy the chapter. Don't forget to review. Oh yeah and character thoughts are in italics.
Eragon made his way back to his tent, trailed by Arya, Murtagh, and his usual elven guard. He angrily flipped back the tent flap, and Arya and Murtagh crowded inside. Arya glared at him, arms crosses in disapproval. This is your solution? Eragon ignored her until she left. Murtagh shifted from foot to foot. He wasn't sure what Eragon was thinking, and didn't intend to speak until he was. Eragon tossed him a thin blanket.
"Sleep on the ground."
Murtagh picked it up off the ground and shook off what dirt he could. Eragon sat on his bed, daring him to complain. Murtagh bowed his head and stretched out on the floor by Eragon's bed. The wadded up blanket served as a pretty good pillow. It's better than prison. A pang of loneliness hit Murtagh's heart. He had spent many uncomfortable nights lying like this beside Eragon, both on the hard ground of the forests, or blowing sands of the Hadarac desert. Night was when they had talked to each other, and sparred to release the fear and tension that dogged them during the day. The danger and adventure of their travels had made them fast friends, bound together first by necessity, but later by love and loyalty. He looked up at Eragon and found him looking back. Purposely Murtagh met his eye. Eragon rolled over to face the wall of the tent.
"Eragon." Murtagh whispered. He didn't expect a response, so he was caught off guard when Eragon sat up and answered. "What!" His voice was as clipped and cold as Murtagh's had been during their battles. Neither man knew what to say next. The silence lengthened. Eragon lay down. Murtagh tried again: "Eragon?"
Eragon didn't sit up this time, but he opened his eyes and looked at Murtagh. This time the question was kinder. "What?" He still wasn't sure what to say. I just wanted him to speak to me. Eragon grunted and turned around. Murtagh continued.
"Do you remember…When we met? The first time we sparred? How we laughed when we saw we were so evenly matched? Do you remember how I helped you when you were injured and rescued you from the Raz'ac? Do you remember we were friends?" Murtagh trailed off, his eyes misted with memories. Eragon turned to face him.
"Yes. I remember…When we met on the battlefield and crossed swords for the first time in earnest. You laughed when you told me who my father was. I remember you killed my king and stole my sword. I remember we are enemies. Murtagh winced at the tone of his voice.
"I meant…the good memories…before…I hurt you and betrayed everyone I ever cared about."
Eragon's voice was cool as any elf's . "I…try not to…don't think about those times." The past didn't matter. Only the present conflict and future of Alagasia mattered.
"I do." Murtagh said sadly. "We were friends."
Eragon met his eye, "That's right," he said, "We were."