Pineneedles And Elves
Where do you think Blödhgarm went first? Farthen Dûr or Ellesméra? Saphira asked as they drifted up towards the elven dock at Ceris.
Farthen Dûr … he wouldn't have wanted to get swayed to stay in Ellesméra and forget his duty … is that …? Up ahead, waiting on the docks stood two elves, one with silver hair and one with black, and Eragon felt the stirring of recognition and a bizarre certainty that this had happened all before – not in the same way perhaps – but the presence of those two elves was a welcome coincidence. He suddenly laughed.
Lifaen and Narí broke out into grins too as they saw the Rider and his dragon. They had guided Eragon, Saphira, Orik and Arya through Du Weldenvarden from Ceris to Ellesméra all those many years ago and time had not altered them; they were as they had remained in Eragon's memories and he was gladder than he realised to see them. Saphira, too, shared in his joy at reuniting with their guides for they were among the most trustworthy and loyal elves to ever serve and protect them both from harm. And – more importantly perhaps – they were friends.
Oromis wondered up beside Eragon, mild curiosity upon his features and Eragon was sure that his master was deliberately acting nonchalant on purpose. A flair for dramatics was an unfortunate side-effect of the bond between a dragon and Rider; the Riders blamed the dragons while the dragons blamed the Riders. Cries of alarm and shock and surprised echoed across the water from Lifaen and Narí and their shouts brought more elves out onto the dock to see what the matter was.
"Now you've done it," Eragon muttered.
Oromis chuckled.
An explanation was demanded almost as soon as the two Riders stepped off the ship and onto firm ground – Eragon swayed slightly as his feet and legs got used to a solid footing rather than the constant swaying of a ship. Oromis held up his hands and spoke in the ancient language, answering the elves' questions in that same mild tone.
"Du Wydra Nángorörh," he said. "I am sure you all know of the legends surrounding it?" they nodded, though Eragon frowned in confusion. "Then do you need much more of an explanation? For the truth you desire was given only to the Riders for a reason."
I never knew there were tales of Du Wydra Nángorörh, Eragon mused to Saphira.
The elves probably abandoned them when they decided that gods don't exist.
Probably. Saphira leapt lightly off the deck of the ship and landed upon the dock. At once all attention was diverted to her as the elves showered her with praises and compliments, which she lapped up accordingly and basked in the attention they gave to her. And you wonder why there is an aspect about your true name that states your vanity …
What about the part of yours that states your reckless and brash?
He grinned, stepping aside as the elves disembarked from the Talítha. Beaum rushed forwards and embraced Lifaen in a warm hug; it was a moment before Eragon remembered Blödhgarm telling him they were brothers. Then Lëyri stepped off the ship. At once the elves forgot about Saphira and instead all crowded round the pregnant elf with wonder upon their faces and awe in their eyes for a child was the most precious of gifts in their culture. Upon the request for the identity of the father, Lëyri's face fell somewhat as she realised there was no way of getting out of the truth; she didn't know.
Narí pushed through the crowd and pulled her into a warm hug. Is it me or is everyone we know related to someone else we know? Saphira asked.
Seems like it, Eragon agreed as he followed behind his master towards Ceris proper. But Lëyri and Narí are only cousins – as appose to Lifaen and Beaum being brothers.
"We are honoured to have you here, Lord Rider," a female elf said as Eragon sat beside Saphira at the base of a large pine tree.
"It's good to be back," Eragon said when he realised it was him the elf had addressed. "Though we need to reach Ellesméra as soon as we can; events are moving apace and we need to make sure the rulers of these lands are aware of them and the dangers ahead."
"Dangers?" Lifaen asked, "What dangers?"
So a brief explanation was given to the elves of Ceris and it was agreed that Eragon, Oromis and Saphira would depart directly for Ellesméra in the morning while the rest would remain in Ceris for a while before taking the Talítha up river to Sílthrim.
"Something has occurred in our capital," Lifaen warned, "though what, precisely word has not yet reached us; all we know is something has happened in Ellesméra."
Oromis frowned, "Thank you, Lifaen-vodhr, your warning is appreciated." But he still looked troubled at news of unease in the elven capital. Eragon too hoped that it was nothing more than court politics as the various families squabbled over control and power of the Knotted Throne. But he was certain Arya and Fírnen were more than a match for whatever petty schemes the lords and ladies had in mind.
Just think, a few more days and you'll see Fírnen again.
And you Arya.
Neither tried to hide the overwhelming joy, anticipation, and slight uncertainty at that prospect; it had been sixteen years … anything could've happened in the interim to change them beyond recognition.
An elf emerged from one of the huts, followed by a female with silver hair down to her waist. He recoiled in shock when he saw Eragon and Saphira among the group round the fire. Eragon sprang to his feet. "Blödhgarm!"
The furry elf bowed his head, avoiding his friend's eyes. "Shadeslayer," he murmured touching the first two fingers of his left hand to his lips and beginning the traditional greeting.
A sudden suspicion formed in Eragon's mind then. "You haven't even gotten started on finding if all is well yet have you?" he accused.
Blödhgarm thought about it for a long moment before shaking his head in defeat. "Forgive me … I – I've been … distracted …" he glanced at the female elf at his side and Eragon suddenly burst out laughing at his friend's predicament.
Sobering slightly, Eragon said; "Luckily for you, your task is no longer necessary; I know exactly what is amiss and what is wrong."
"Which is why you are here?"
"Exactly."
The elf nodded and looked round at the others, his eyes widening as he saw Oromis.
"Aren't you going to introduce us?" Eragon teased. He'd had sixteen years of Blödhgarm winding him up first over Arya, then over Lëyri and then over Arya and Lëyri. Revenge could be sweet at times.
She stepped forwards, "I am Delsá of Ília Fëon. Forgive me, Lord Rider … but you cannot deny the heart when it calls, can you?" Blödhgarm had said the same thing to him once.
Eragon decided not to answer that one.
Oromis was hiding his smile behind his hand as he pretended to cough.
Elves. Eragon fumed; They'll either be so formal and stiff like they've got a pole shoved up their behinds or relaxed and laid back like a river – just flowing through without a care in the world. There is no middle ground with them!
Not to mention that they're all hopeless romantics at heart … so long as you have the patience to take about a century to court them first. Saphira added.
"Where will you go from Ellesméra? Will you wait there or go directly to Ilirea?" Blödhgarm asked as he sat beside the fire with Delsá at his side.
Eragon scratched his jaw, noticing absently that he needed a shave, and looked at his master, who rolled his eyes at Eragon's habit of seeking advice and palming off responsibility to someone else. When Oromis didn't, Eragon answered; "Time is off the essence; we'll inform Ellesméra of the situation and go directly to Ilirea, then to Aberon and from there to Farthen Dûr. Once we've let everyone know, then we can work out where to base ourselves and what we can do next."
Blödhgarm nodded, thinking fast. "It's about five days as the crow flys from here to Ellesméra – sorry as the dragon flys – and then six from Ellesméra to Ilirea. Assuming you linger in Du Weldenvarden's capital for a couple of days, and if the elves of Ceris are agreeable; on elven horseback I can meet you in Ilirea three days after you arrive."
"We can meet them you mean," Delsá corrected.
Lifaen and Narí exchanged a look before Narí nodded, "We have about a dozen or so horses with us here in Ceris: you can leave as Eragon Shadeslayer does in the morning."
"Why do you want to come to Ilirea?" Eragon asked curiously.
Blödhgarm shifted uncomfortably – as if embarrassed about explaining his reasons, but it was Oromis who answered. The old Rider had been staring absently into the flames appearing not to listen to a word that was being said. "Because his duty is to protect you and serve you; when Islanzadí charged him with his task during the war, it wasn't just for the duration of our campaign against Galbatorix. Blödhgarm will go wherever you can and protect you and serve you as best he can for as long as he can. He is onr skölir edoc'sil."
Eragon looked at his friend in a new light, stunned that the elf had agreed to a lifelong servitude to someone who had barely proven himself a man at the time.
"Why … why?" Eragon asked, now rather embarrassed himself that Blödhgarm had chosen to obey and serve him.
The elf shrugged, still avoiding the Rider's eye.
"My father was Vrael's skölir edoc'sil and since you were the last best hope we had …" he shrugged, and gave Eragon a cryptic smile. "I'll admit at first I did begin to regret my decision – until Belatona that is."
Unconquerable shield … the elves have rather strange terms for things don't they? Saphira said to Eragon as she lifted her head up off the ground and stretched her long neck.
It's all that excessive literature – the metaphors and so forth have leaked through into everyday life and now they much prefer to use cryptic terms to describe someone than straight forward words like normal people. I wonder why Blödhgarm never mentioned this before.
Probably because he's embarrassed to be seen as a willing subordinate to you. I mean you don't look all that impressive – for someone who's saved the world.
Ah that's because I don't want to show you up! Eragon grinned, It would hardly do now for the Rider to outlook the dragon now would it?
Saphira seemed pleased with his answer and hummed deep in her throat as they settled down for the night; Eragon lay on his back, staring through the pineneedles at the stars as they blinked into existence far above him. Finally the black night faded into deep blue and then to the dull lifeless grey of predawn and Eragon stirred, sat up and looked around. Most of the elves that had accompanied him east had returned to the Talítha last night, and the elves of Ceris had all taken to their huts. Oromis, however, remained as Eragon had last seen him; staring absently into the now dead fire with an expression of deep thought upon his timeless face.
Not wanting to disturb him, Eragon paced lightly to the ship and into his cabin where he located his belongings, shoving them all hastily back into his pack, the chest where the eldunarí were stored and Saphira's saddle. With difficulty he stepped back onshore and treaded his way through the pines to the campfire where Saphira was stirring. Oromis had stoked up the fire in his absence and an older elf had emerged from one of the huts to prepare breakfast.
The elf glanced curiously at the chest but at the look from both Riders and the low growl from Saphira, he asked no questions despite the curiosity that was no doubt eating him alive. Eragon was thankful Oromis had had the foresight to swear all the elves aboard the Talítha to secrecy regarding the eldunarí. It was a secret he didn't like the world to know about.
Do with this chest as you would normally do when transporting us, Glaedr told him. Eragon waited for the elf to step out of sight before quickly murmuring the many phrases in the ancient language that would deposit the chest full of eldunarí in its own personal pocket of space and time. When the elf returned with a large bowl of bright berries, he frowned at the disappearance of the chest he wasn't allowed to know about but said nothing. Oromis disappeared to the ship for his own things and returned a good ten minutes later with his pack over his shoulder.
Eager to be off, the two Riders quickly saddled Saphira and tied their packs in place before turning down breakfast and clambering up her scaly hide to settle in place on her back. Ready? She asked as Eragon gripped the neck spike in front of him, absently remembering how small it had once been, while his master shifted behind him.
"Let us be off, Bjartskular," he said and Saphira leapt into the air, clearing the tops of the pines and heading steadily north-west towards the elven capital, Ellesméra. As Blödhgarm predicted, it took them five days to get there; flying over vast expanses of green pines below them broken by the occasional glade or lake or the lone hill. On the fifth day, Oromis said loudly over the wind; "Most of the wards have been disabled … and I cannot sense the presence of Gilderien the Wise. Either something is amiss here and we are too late, or his presence guarding Ellesméra is no longer required. Though I cannot see a why he would abandon his post when he has guarded the city since Du Fyren Skulblaka."
"He wields the White Flame of Vándil, doesn't he? Which is why he was chosen … can another take his place?" Eragon called back.
He glanced over his shoulder to see Oromis shaking his head. "Not unless they are chosen by the Flame."
That makes no sense whatsoever, Saphira remarked.
There is much I did not get the chance to teach you, Oromis agreed gently. "If there is time, I shall, of course, rectify that problem." He promised as Saphira settled upon the ground on the outskirts of the city. The two Riders dismounted and Eragon gripped the hilt of his sword while Oromis reached for the bow Eragon had let him borrow. They exchanged a look before turning to the dragon behind them.
I'll wait for you at the Crags of Tel'naeír. She said, jumping into the air, But let me know what is happening here.
Of course – and be careful!
I'm always careful.
Eragon watched her disappear into the sky and forced himself to let go of Brisingr's hilt. He followed Oromis into the city, taking slow deliberate steps as they stuck to the lesser paths and the shadows, wondering where everyone was and why no one was around to welcome them or deny the entry into the pinewood city.
"Let's go find Rhunön," Oromis suggested in a low whisper. "Whatever is going on here, she will have naught to do with it."
"Unless Murtagh and Thorn have been and gone."
Oromis shook his head. "The forest would be burning if that's the case. No this has everything to do with court politics; something has stirred up the court and the common folk are staying indoors until it dies down."
"I hope you're right."
"I'm always right … except for when I'm wrong."
Eragon didn't respond. Instead he drew his blade and took the lead, thanking the skills he'd honed as a boy in Carvahall tracking game deep into the Spine; the patience and stealth required were serving him well now. Twice the two Riders ducked behind bushes and tree trunks as various elves of differing importance hurried through the city. At the dogwood tunnel entrance to Rhunön's forge, they sheathed their weapons and hurried along it, emerging through the other side to find the blacksmith tinkering away with a fine file as she crafted something with diminutive detail. Eragon and Oromis knew better than to interrupt her while she worked and so they sat down and waited patiently for her to finish.
A good hour and a half passed before the elf laid aside her tool and looked up at them. She showed no indication of surprised at their appearance in her workshop; one of them was supposed to be dead while the other far away in the east.
"About time you showed up," she grunted.
"I take it then, that things are bad?" Oromis said mildly.
She grunted again. "Fiolr tried to usurp Arya, so she abdicated instead. Now that fool Däthedr is on the throne and his House's warriors are patrolling the city keeping Fiolr's from taking over. Däthedr took Fiolr with him when he went to Ilirea so the slimy git wouldn't try and usurp him. For a fool Däthedr seems to be handling kingship quite well."
Eragon frowned at that bit of news as he relayed it to Saphira. It explained a lot. "Arya was forced to abdicate?"
Oromis glanced at him before shrugging as if it was no big deal, "Islanzadí never wanted her burdened by the crown anyway. She just never figured out a way to actually tell her daughter that before Arya went back to the Varden; she died before she got the chance to talk to Arya about it properly."
Rhunön rolled her eyes, "Speaking of the dead, aren't you supposed to be one of them?"
Oromis smiled. "Du Wydra Nángorörh, Rhunön-elda."
She snorted, "Those bedtime stories! Ha! Well I suppose you'll be wanting this back then won't you?"
Rhunön stormed to the other side of her workshop and rummaged around in a cupboard before straightening up with a cloth wrapped bundle in her arms. She plonked it down carefully on her workbench and proceeded to unwrap the thing. Oromis got to his feet in wonder as his blade, Naegling, was revealed. He shrugged out of the bow Islanzadí had made for Eragon and thrust it into the other Rider's arms as he stepped up to the bench.
"When you fell, Islanzadí had divers retrieve this from the bottom of Isenstar Lake. Since I made it, my claim to it was the soundest and so Arya gave it me." She gave Oromis a long hard look, "But I suppose I could let you have it back … that's if you think you'll be needing it of course."
"I'm afraid so," Oromis said gravely. "For the murderer Morzan walked the path before me and has joined his son against us. Also the fiend Durza is once more abroad in the world. I fear I will have need of my blade before this is done."
The blacksmith nodded. "I assume you want all your previous wards upon it? Those to defend you when you have your episodes?"
Both Eragon and Oromis frowned at that and shared another look. "Ebrithil," Eragon said then even as his master thought the words himself, "In all the time you have been back – I have not seen you suffer once from your malady."
He was staring out of the window. "No," he said softly, "I have not have I?" Then he spun on his heel and said to Eragon; "Stop me," and before Eragon had a chance to work out what he meant, Oromis had uttered deeply in the ancient language three words of power and Eragon's legs were bound in place with an invisible force.
He was reminded wryly of one of his first lessons with Oromis when he had tested the elf's patience too much only for the elf's power to be denied him. Gritting his teeth, Eragon dug into his own flow of energy and said, "brakka du vanyalí se huildar eka," and felt the power leave him. He stared at his master as it came down to a battle of wills between them as Oromis strove to test himself and push himself into one of the episodes that was the result of being broken by the Forsworn. Sweat formed on Eragon's brow as he struggled with maintaining the spell to counteract Oromis's and he refused aid from Saphira when she offered it for that would only be unfair to their master since Glaedr was steadfast ignoring him.
Finally, Eragon had to give up the magic lest it consume him and with a gasp he severed the flow and stood there, held in place by Oromis's spell, panting. They'd been battling it out for a good half hour and Rhunön had gotten bored for she was busy with the sculpture she'd been working on earlier when Eragon and Oromis had arrived. With a gasp Oromis stopped the spell and staggered to the chair, as Eragon – not prepared for the sudden release – collapsed onto the floor.
I think he won. Saphira remarked smugly.
I think he is cured.
Well … that too.