A/N: (does a little dumb jig) OMG, IT'S NOT A FILLER, GUYS

A/N: (does a little dumb jig) OMG, IT'S NOT A FILLER, GUYS!! Aren't you proud of me? Okay, here is the chappie! Plus, since it has been so long that I've updated, I'll give you an extra long chapter! (please tell me if it's TOO long) .

Btw, I suck at courtroom crap for all of you lawyer fans out there. But, remember: it shouldn't be completely like modern day. Mainly its gonna be a kinda modern day/Roman times cross of democracy. :)

Disclaimer: I do not own Eragon.

Chapter 14: The Trial

For the next week or so, all Murtagh's friends did was pray, pray, pray, and pray.

All Murtagh managed to do was lay in his hard prison bed puking. He didn't know how long this went on, but he knew one thing.

He was going to die.

Still, the friends kept their faith. Their prayers turned into pleas. Just as they were about to give up hope on their beloved friend, something happened.

Their prayers were answered.

Nasuada became accustomed to staying in Murtagh's room every other night. At first it was because his fatal condition slowly began worsening. However, after about a week of sickly yellow skin, failing kidneys, and bloody black vomit, Murtagh's health increased some. He could sit up with little pain, and he even managed to limp around his cell. Now she slept in a chair by his bedside just to give him company. She didn't mind. In fact, she enjoyed it.

Eragon visited him one day. He remembered the disbelief and happiness that consumed him when he witnessed his brother propped against the wall, plopped on the bed. "Murtagh, your…"

"Sitting up?" grinned Murtagh. "Yeah, I know. The healers say I've been improving quite a bit. I guess I'll survive long enough to attend my own trial after all!"

"That's great!" Eragon rejoiced. He hadn't been so happy since Murtagh began hallucinating two and a half weeks ago.

His brother certainly lasted longer than the healers predicted: he had persevered through nineteen days of sheer agony- five more than assumed he would live. "So," began Eragon. "What exactly did the healers say?"

Murtagh shrugged. "I don't really recall. All I remember was telling them my kidneys were functioning correctly, that I would live and…yeah, that's really it. Oh, and they claimed it was really a miracle that saved me."

Eragon nodded. He did not believe in such things-actually, he was entirely an atheist, but even he had to admit a miracle was the only thing that could have kept his brother away from a slow, painful death. "It really is amazing. Not to have given up on you or anything, but I thought you were a goner."

Murtagh chuckled. "Me, too." They two talked of nonsense for the remainder of the next few hours until duty called Eragon away from his merry visit. "Bye, Eragon."

"Bye, Murtagh. And get some more rest. You may be getting better, but your still so feeble, Murtagh."

Murtagh snorted. "Quit insulting me!" he said with mock indignation.

Eragon smirked. "Whatever you say." He dashed out of the room before Murtagh could snap back at him.

Eragon jogged through the halls. He had a sudden burst of energy. Murtagh's health lightened his day. He came to an abrupt stop when he ran into Arya. "Hello, Arya," he stated, oddly formal. Communication with them had been slightly awkward ever since her frequent denials.

Arya acknowledged his presence. "Eragon," she said curtly. "Where are you in such a hurry?"

"Nasuada has summoned me."

Arya nodded. "Yes, I assume it probably has something to do with the trial. All of Surda is buzzing about it."

Eragon sighed. "So much for keeping him a secret."

Arya face immediately turned somber. "How is he?"

"A great deal better, though I can tell he still suffers from time to time. You have no idea how worried we were. You should have seen him." He shuddered. "Murtagh was like…like…" he pondered on how to describe his brother's condition. "Living death."

"That bad?" her voice sounded concerned. "But, he is better, no?"

"Well…" Eragon knew he should have said yes, but he desperately wanted to converse with Arya. "I don't know. He is doing better. But, there is still a chance he will die. He's so tiny." Eragon pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm so worried."

Arya gazed at him sympathetically. She would have given him a hug, but she feared he would translate her friendly embrace for something much more. In the end, she decided on cupping his cheek. "He will be fine. He want to live too much to die."

Eragon nodded. "Well," he stated dramatically. "Duty calls."

Eragon entered Nasuada's dimly lit office. The Varden leader indicated for him to sit down in one of the chairs by her desk.

"Now," she said business-like. Several papers littered her desk. Scrolls were strewn on the floor and were unraveled. "About Murtagh's trial. He has already been condemned guilty. This is to prove if he truly is guilty."

"Guilty! Of what?" exclaimed Eragon.

Nasuada sighed. "Really, Eragon. You can be rather stupid at times. He murdered Hrothgar, remember? That treason will no go unpunished.

"But…it wasn't his fault. We know that," rebutted Eragon, worried.

"Yes, we are aware of the fact, but that doesn't change anything. Eragon, Murtagh killed a king. A king he used to fight with. Whether he was acting on free will or not, it does not matter. The fact is, a kill is a kill. He killed the dwarven king, and the dwarves want his to pay." Nasuada enunciated every word clearly and slowly in attempts to get Eragon to understand.

Finally Eragon said, "I know, but…"

"…But?"

"But they just don't get it! Sometimes I just wish I could implant my memories into every individual person's mind. You know that feeling? Where you know the truth that no one believes?"

Nasuada pushed out her chair. A squeaking sound resounded throughout the quiet office. She glided over to Eragon gracefully and put a compassionate hand on his shoulder. "Yes. I know that feeling. I think we all do sometimes. Even if it's something not life changing, like a beloved friends trial, but even if it is merely smaller. We all feel that people don't understand the truth, especially right now." She took a deep breath and plopped down next to Eragon, exhausted. She buried he face in her slim hands. "We are all so stressed right now, Eragon."

Eragon rubbed her back. "You really need a vacation," he said sympathetically.

A knock on the door halted Nasuada from replying.

"Come in," projected Nasuada's voice.

A short, stubby, muscular man with an accent and long beard entered through the wooden door.

"Orik," commented Eragon. He was happy to see his dwarf friend, though he was rather irritated with him right now. He was irritated with the whole damn dwarf race. "Good to see you."

Orik greeted his two comrades a little too politely. Obviously, he was pondering the same thing they were.

"We were just discussing the Red Rider's trial," said Nasuada emotionlessly.

Orik nodded. "We want a dwarven judge."

Eragon jumped up. "What! That's hardly impartial!"

"Eragon!" scolded Nasuada. "Sit down!" She turned her attention to Orik. "Now, I do not think- and Eragon agrees with me- that a dwarf judge would be a rather prejudiced trial. We want everything to be equal and fair and justified. I feel that the best option would be to get a human judge."

Orik growled. "And that's fair, is it? As far as I know, the rider is a human."

"What about an elf? We could get an elf who has no relations with the Red Rider or the dwarves to be the Honor."

Nasuada and Orik chewed on his words.

"It could work," stated the Varden leader. She turned to the short man. "What say you?"

Orik was silent for a long, agonizing moment. "Well…I suppose that could work. But we need at least two dwarves on the jury."

Eragon growled. "You just want to see the Red Rider executed."

Orik smiled. "Yes, I suppose so. You swore you'd kill him for me, remember? But you haven't lived up to your promise. Why is that?"

Eragon was silent.

Orik's smirk faded. "Well? Why won't you answer? You soft on this Red Rider?"

"Okay," cut in Nasuada. She could tell the tension was about to get rather high.

Orik glared at his good companion Eragon. "Really, why didn't you kill him? I just want to know! You swore you would kill him!"

Nasuada looked at Eragon, surprised, but she did not comment. Instead, she turned her attention to Orik. "Eragon did not kill him for many a reason. Mainly because he has information vital to the Varden. We can not let him doe until we break past his mental barriers."

Eragon addressed Nasuada. "And umm…how exactly are we going to do that?"

Nasuada glanced in his direction. "We'll figure out a way."

Orik continued to glare. "I still think there is more that just the fact he has vital information."

Nasuada sighed. "How about this. If the Red Rider is condemned to death, Eragon will be the executioner."

Eragon choked on his spit. "Nasuada!"

"Eragon, I am you liege lord and you do as I say!"

Eragon's eyes were oddly shiny. "Nasuada," he pleaded quietly.

Orik clapped his hands together. "That would work! I knew you would stay with the dwarves in the end, Eragon!" Then, as an after thought, he asked, "Who is the Red Rider, anyway?"

Nasuada sighed. "You will find out in a few days, Orik. But for now, I wish you good luck with the election."

Eragon raised his eyebrows. "Election?"

"Yes," said Orik. "For the new king. I've been nominated."

The night before his trial, Nasuada walked into Murtagh's cell like she did almost every other night. "Hey."

Murtagh smiled. He lay in his bed dozing. "Hey," he whispered with his eyes still shut. His voice had almost completely returned, but Eragon had told him to save his strength for the trial.

"You and I both know you're innocent."

Murtagh made a face. "Nas, I'm guilty."

"But at the same time you're innocent. You are…"

"Guilty Innocence?"

"Yeah," she chuckled. "I guess so."

He gave her a childish crooked grin.

"You nervous for tomorrow?" she said.

Murtagh shrugged under the covers. "Not really."

Nasuada grinned weakly. "That's always my Murtagh." She kissed his cheek, said into his ear, "Good luck tomorrow," and resumed her usual position in the chair.

"The Honorable Judge Oromis Dragon Rider enters."

Oromis strutted into the courtroom. His billowing black robe trailed behind him dramatically. He held his nose up high in a vain, elven kind of way. As he gently sat down in he chair with grace only an elf could contain, he started the introduction, typical court stuff. "We are gathered here today…" After some time he said, "The court call upon this trail for Murtagh Morzansson, better know as the Red Rider."

Whispers shrouded the courtroom for a while until the large doors opened and Murtagh walked forward.

Despite the fact he was incredibly stiff, Murtagh made it to the his chair beside Nasuada, who knew much about law and agreed to help him out. Growing up in Uru'baen, he knew about court, too, but the courts in Uru'baen were rarely used. Galbatorix usually just threw the offender in the dungeons. Murtagh's brown hair was light and fluffly, he had bathed, but there was still a sickly look about him. An unusually skinny, yellow appearance.

The room was merely a portion of the palace set aside for however long for the trial. People gathered just to catch a glimpse of their enemy, but there were no seats for them to sit. Light filtered through numerous windows. People in the streets surrounded the building to find out the fate of the Red Rider.

Oromis shouted to the crowd, "You are to remain silent through the proceeding. Anyone who speaks will be abruptly thrown out. Understand?"

Nods and murmured agreements radiated from the crowd for a moment.

Oromis glanced at Orik, who represented the dwarves on the prosecuting side, and Nasuada, who was with Murtagh. He couldn't help but notice the evil glares Murtagh was receiving from the civilians. Not to mention the dwarves. "Does the prosecution have an opening statement?"

"I do, but it would take to long to list the traitor's wrong doings. Thus, I won't give it," replied Orik curtly.

"The defendant?"

"No, Your Honor," said Nasuada simply.

Oromis cleared his throat. "Murtagh," he boomed. "You are charged with murdering King Hrothgar, treason, and handing valuable information to Galbatorix. Do you deny it?"

"No," stated Murtagh strongly.

xxxxx

"The court calls Eragon Shadeslayer to the stand."

Nasuada paced in front of Eragon thoughtfully. The silence made the anxiety raise to an unbearable amount. Finally, Nasuada stared seriously into the Blue rider's eyes. "Eragon, did you or did you not talk to Murtagh on the Burning Plains?"

"…I did."

"Please relay the details of the conversation."

Murtagh gulped. Eragon's eye witness accounts could be good for him or bad.

Eragon told everything that happened at the Burning Plains since he tore of Murtagh's helm. Everything. Except his heritage.

"So, Galbatorix learnt Murtagh's true name?" Nasuada clarified.

"Yes."

More gasps through the crowd. Many didn't know what that meant, but they knew it must have been important.

"Objection, Your Honor!" barked Orik.

Oromis listened as Orik complained.

"He was proud of his ways! He claimed to be more powerful than Morzan happily, didn't he?"

Oromis's eyes flickered to Murtagh.

Murtagh sighed. "It was an act. I was really…angry at the time."

Nasuada gave Murtagh a glare, and he instantly shut up.

xxxxx

Katrina was planted in a chair, nervous.

Murtagh gave her an encouraging smile.

"Katrina, is it true Murtagh visited your cell in Helgrind?"

"Yes."

"Please tell us all that happened during your time together in Helgrind."

Katrina explained in vivid detail what had happened. "He was very nice," she concluded. A gentleman. He healed me, though he kept my modesty. He gave me food, and treated me with the only kindness I had received since I was kidnapped."

"Objection, Your Honor!" shouted Orik.

"Sustained."

Orik growled.

After some questioning, Oromis said, "Do you care to cross examine the witness?"

Orik grunted in agreement and hoisted his stubby body out of the chair. Gazing up at Katrina he asked, "You say he was sweet to you, no?"

"Yes. Very kind."

"You also say he asked you for information on Eragon Shadeslayer and your fiancee, Roran Stronghammer?"

Katrina appeared hesitant. "…Yes?"

"Perhaps he was only acting kind to you on his behalf to find valuable facts about the Varden and their members?" Orik's eyes glinted maliciously towards the Red Rider.
Murtagh's face remained impassive, but secretly his blood was boiling to strangle the tiny man.

"No! I only told him a little information. He remained nice; all I said was stuff he already knew, but he did not pester me for information!"

"Perhaps he wanted to gain your trust so he could ravage your memories later," rebutted Orik smugly.

"Perhaps I wanted to stay out of the torture chambers for a few days," Murtagh said so quietly not even an elf could have heard him.

"No, he wouldn't do that!" said a flabbergasted Katrina. Why would anyone hate Murtagh enough to execute him?!

Orik and Katrina exchanged icy, sinister glares. "You'd be surprise what Morzan's son would do," he spat.

Murtagh's fists clenched. He was so close to beating the bloody daylights out of that dwarf…

xxxxxx

The trial ensued for hours. The sun was clear in the sky, and you could see the heat swarming the room. Many of the civilians were fanning themselves; oil perspired on their faces.

xxxxxx

"The court calls Murtagh Morzansson to the stand."

Murtagh blinked. "Are you aloud to be a witness at your own trial?" he asked as he stumbled to the podium.

"Hun," said Nasuada quietly. "There hasn't been a trial in Surda for two hundred years. Needless to say, this is nothing like a full blown government trial."

Murtagh gazed deep into Nasuada's eyes from the opposite side of the stand. He felt something stirring inside him. The sensation was rather odd. He never felt it before.

But, whatever the bubbly, warm feeling was, he liked it.

"Murtagh," began Nasuada, snapping the Red Rider to reality. "Do you believe you are a slave?"

"Yes."

"We understand that Galbatorix has certain…accessories slaves must wear. Are you wearing one?"

Murtagh remained silent. Well, obviously he was wearing one!

"Are you wearing one?" Nasuada's tone told him to answer.

"…Yes."

Nasuada smiled. "What is it?"

"It's an ankle chain. It marks us that we are Galbatorix's property in case we escape."

"How does it affect freewill?"

"What?" Murtagh looked at her, confused. "Repeat the question."

Nasuada pinched the bridge of her nose. "Murtagh. You are a slave."

"Yes?"

"The king knows your true name?"

"Yes."

"He made you swear an oath in the ancient language or else you and Thorn would die."

"…Yes."

"Against your will."

"Yes."

"And you repeatedly disobeyed and defied him?"

"Yes."

"And you stole the third dragon egg?"

"Yes."

"And he stuck the ankle chain on you."

"Yes."

"How does all of that affect your free will?"

"Oh!" said Murtagh, comprehending. "Well…everyday of my life I feel these heavy iron chains weighing me down. I always feel twenty pounds heavier than I am. When I asked Galbatorix why this was he said, 'They are your invisible prisoner chains.' I was so miserable I couldn't eat. I couldn't sleep." He thought he should point out the butcher knife cuts on his body, but decided not to. "He tried to get me to swear to capture Eragon in the ancient language and murder King Hrothgar. When I refused, he tackled and pinned me to the ground and smashed my head against a rock until I felt a warm liquid running down my neck and I saw white lights in my eyes. He then attacked my mental barriers and, I guess you could say, possessed me. I blacked out, and the next thing I remember was waking up the following morning on the throne room floor and feeling the weight of another oath upon my chest." Murtagh's eyes were glassy. He hated reliving these moments, but if it got to the judge, it would be worth it.

The audience, jury, judge, and even Trianna were hanging on his every word.

"You don't understand what it's like-the agony us slaves deal with. Live with. The absolute numbing pain. It eats away at your emotions until you just don't care about life anymore. I considered suicide, poisoning myself, poisoning the king-which I would've done if I didn't swear in the ancient language not to- and much more terrible things you couldn't imagine." He smiled sadistically. "I could walk down to his dungeon right now and point out all the torture devices, what they do, and how painful they are. You know why? Because I've been the guinea pig on at least seventy percent of them. The first prisoner to try them out. You just don't understand what us slaves suffer! Galbatorix stabs our hearts until…until…" He took a shaky breathe. "Until your heart dies. Than all that is left is a black void. And once the black void hits, you start talking to yourself. Thankfully, I'm not that far gone. But I've met other slaves who are phobic maniacs that do nothing but sit in a corner, fingering their ankle chains, and singing soft songs about freedom. Because, you see, that is what we all hope for. It's our only goal in life-to escape. But, it is so hard with the ankle chains. It's against the law to house someone with an ankle chain on, so maybe one out of one hundred of us run away each year. Out of that, maybe one percent escapes. As for the other ninety-nine percent of the runaways? Well…" He trailed of. "Let's not go there."

The audience was speechless. Nasuada, his family, the judge, even the dwarves stared at him, flabbergasted.

"So, you see, every time I inspect my ankle I feel…I can't even describe what they misery feels like. You try everything to avoid the depression, but it just build and builds and builds until you crash under the pressure. The ankle chain is so basic. But it reminds every one of us what we are, that in peoples eyes we are scum, and that-even without the oaths-is enough to break a man beyond return. You feel like you have no reason to live other than to be beaten.

"That is why the ankle chain kills my willpower. Every time I see it I am reminded of the pain I've suffered. The loved ones I've lost, and the dirt I've become."

For a few long minutes, the whole world seemed quiet and still. Murtagh's words flooded through the mind of each individual in the courtroom. They were caught up in the moment. A new found soft spot hit their hearts for the rider. Even Orik couldn't think of anything to say against Murtagh's testimony.

Trianna watched Murtagh intently. It was absolutely amazing. Just stunning the way the man could snatch peoples' emotions and twist them the way he wanted. She had to admit, his testimony touched her slightly, but she was too heartless, so the moment of sympathy for the handsome rider vanished quickly.

After all, she was not there to pity the boy. She was there to make sure he stayed alive long enough for Galbatorix to spirit him back to Uru'baen. But that would be a long time from now.

But she did know that as soon as that boy returned to the capital of Alagaesia, he was in for the worst punishment of his little life.

Murtagh rubbed his eyes and yawned like a toddler. All the woman in the crowd cooed over his baby-like gesture, something the would not have done ten minutes prior.

"Poor Murtagh!" cried one of the ladies on the jury. "Are you tired? We should take a break from the trial. Your Honor, look at him! He's exhausted and deathly skinny!"

"I'm aware of how malnourished he is, Geneva, now shut up."

"How can you prove your telling the truth?" questioned Orik quietly.

Murtagh sighed.

The woman in the courtroom glared at the dwarf malignantly.

"Show them, Murtagh," whispered Nasuada.

Murtagh sighed and nodded. She stepped down from the podium, puled off his boot, and lifted up his pant leg.

On his skinny, pale ankle lay a massive iron chain. The crowd gasped and the voices rose.

"ORDER!" bellowed Oromis. "Defendant, prosecution, do you have any closing statements?"

"Think about Murtagh's story."

"Think about how he betrayed us."

Silence flared in the room, compensated with tension. Oromis reentered the courtroom with a few papers. He planted himself in his large chair and inhaled deeply. Then, he said:

"I, the Honorable Judge Oromis Dragon Rider, find the defendant not guilty. However, he must consent to having his mind searched in order to roam freely, other wise he will be sent to the dungeons anyway." He pounded on the table.

Murtagh nodded warily. "Only if Eragon is the one to search my mind." He has a mother I'm sure he would like to lay yes on. The only way he can do that is search my mind, I suppose.

"Of course. Tommorrow Eragon will sift through your mind. You will need a witness of the event. People will know you are clean if you are seen wandering about in Surda."

Once hostile humans and elves began rejoicing while dwarves huffed. "Case closed!"

Oromis grinned as he watched his apprentice fling at his brother. He had never seen Eragon so happy.

Murtagh lit up his baby brother's world.

A/N: Finally done! 9 pages, new record!! (does tap dance) Omg, I know I suck at court stuff!! I don't think I've ever known less about a subject in my life! PLEASE tell me what you though about it! I'M BEGGING YOU WITH ALL OF MY HEART! I need to know what you thought of it. Was it to long? Did it suck? Do I suck? I NEEDA KNOW, MAN! (puppy dog eyes)