I APOLOGIZE IN ADVANCE FOR THE LONG A/N. READ ONLY THE SECTIONS THAT PERTAIN TO YOU.

NEW UPDATING SCHEDULE: I'm going to try and update every other day, so I can have some time for things that come up. Unfortunately, I can't say when my next one will be, because I don't have my work schedule yet.

REVIEW REPLIES (because my reply button STILL doesn't work…curse you, FF!)

Warrior of the Flock of Music Shines: Your reviews make me happy This fic is an exercise in empathy, because the female protagonist in the original story I'm working on is being kind of bratty right now…sometimes if I leave them alone for a while my characters get jealous and start cooperating. (And people wonder why my mother thinks I need my head checked out…)

NormalityIsNonexistent: Unfortunately, leaving the dragon unhatched (It's a word, danggit, spellcheck!) would be very boring plot-wise.

Restrained Freedom: Well, what he doesn't know won't hurt him, right? :o

Luvin'-Music: Thanks! And it's fine, it took me two days to update…and two more days this time…so yeah. And he's evil like that :P

Franny Mika: Thank you! I love Thorn. CP did not write him enough. And as for your confusion, I do see how the wording isn't clear. I went back and altered it.

Booklover1398: Aren't they just precious? There will be many more.

Many kudos to you reviewers and followers!

DISCLAIMER: Cause it's been forever since I've had one. I own the storyline, Alyssa, Valbadan, Alard, Galvin, and Zain. Christopher Paolini owns everything else.

ABOUT THIS CHAPTER: This chapters takes place in the past. It's a recap on what happened from the battle of Uru'Baen (the day Nasuada swore fealty) onward. It's longer than the others (four pages by Microsoft word's count), thus why it took so long. Of course, it would have been much faster if a certain protagonist wasn't being so moody and difficult **throws rotten vegetables at Eragon**

If you think you can do a thing or think you can't do a thing, you're right

-Henry Ford

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The Varden marched alone.

Without Nasuada, the battle of Uru'Baen was next to hopeless. While the leader was recovering from her torture, Murtagh committed another act of treason.

Thorn landed with a crack atop a tall building, roaring to ward off the soldiers on the ground below. Saphira dipped, angling to land on a building across from them. Saphira, we can't fight them! We don't have time! Eragon growled.

Thorn has promised their intentions are simple. They claim to know of Nasuada. The memory of the conversation, a muddle of feelings and images, was pushed from her mind to his. If they know anything else of value, perhaps they may tell us.

Perhaps they'll be lying.

And perhaps not. Ever the optimist, Eragon sighed, abandoning his resistance to glare fiercely at his half-brother.

Murtagh looked worse than ever. The rings under his eyes were large and purple, and there was a fresh scar on his cheek. He seemed to barely be sitting straight. "Eragon."

"What is it you want?" He snapped.

"She swore this morning."

Eragon froze. She couldn't have. She wouldn't have. Not Nasuada…

"I…it's my fault." Murtagh looked down. "I'll say nothing more of it."

This doesn't change our plan. Eragon told Saphira privately.

It still changes much.

"I'm going to ask you once." Murtagh met his gaze again, dark eyes hard and black against his pale skin. "Don't make her fight her own. Try all you like, but if this begins to fail I will not fight for you."

"I never expected you too."

Murtagh sighed again, voice dropping. "I know you don't think much of me. But this is for her good. If this is doomed to fail, I will not have her die fighting those she used to fight for. We will do what we can, but we will not risk our lives more than necessary."

Murtagh's words were fateful.

When they neared the end of the hallway littered with traps, several guards brought Nasuada's limp form through the doors, sneeringg. She was unconscious.

Eragon and his dwindling party halted.

Elva screamed.

Eragon didn't know who survived.

There were shouts, screams, and coughing. Smoke billowed everywhere, the ground beneath them shook. Eragon began grabbing for nearby allies, pushing them toward the entrance.

Light from cracks in the ceiling and the sound of tumbling stone alerted them to the imminent collapse of the hall.

Someone grabbed his wrist. He couldn't tell who. It felt like every part of him was numb as he coughed and tried to find Saphira's glittering scales in the chaos. Finally, his other hand found her, and he helped the limping figure beside him onto the dragon's back. The ground cracked, and everything sloped downward.

Eragon grabbed the straps on Saphira's saddle that normally held his legs in place, and she leapt into the air, leaving him hanging beside her and attempting to climb onto her back.

Below him, he saw several figures slip into the gorge, and prayed to several Gods that they were Galbatorix's guards and not Nasuada or Elva, or the spellcasters, or…

Someone grabbed his arm and began to pull him up.

With the elf's help, he managed to seat himself in the saddle, turning to his companion with sad eyes. It was one of the spellcasters, a particularly silent man by the name of Valbadan. "I saw several escape." He said. "Surely, Arya Drottning was among them." Ah. An elf who attempted comfort – which wasn't as strange when Eragon remembered Valbadan was one of the younger elves, having been in the Varden almost all of his life.

So they tried to regroup.

They retreated for days, with no contact or more than brief pauses, Galbatorix's army on their tails. Finally, they, too, retreated, back into the depths of Uru'Baen, leaving the Varden to rest and count their dead and missing for the first time in three days.

Eragon landed, slipping off Saphira after Valbadan. The elf had been surprisingly pleasant company, rational and with a simple view of things. He was very open – for what had he to hide, he shrugged his shoulders and continued their conversation – and was willing to talk about nothing to soothe the dragon and rider's restlessness.

Valbadan frowned as he landed on the ground, straightening his shoulders and attempting to keep upright on the ankle he'd injured in the collapse. Both he and Eragon had cast minor healing spells, but they were both so exhausted the majority of the damage remained. "It has been far too long since I have walked on land." He placed a hand on Saphira's flank. "And a much harder flight for you, Bjartskular. Thank you."

Saphira snorted, attempting to sound tired and frustrated but unable to cover up her liking for the elf – like all elves, he held her in extremely high standards. I do not wish to leave the ground for several days. And I will eat anyone who asks me to do otherwise.

Valbadan offered her a small smile. "Then I will see to it that you are left alone."

Thank you. You are very kind.

Eragon offered the spellcaster his shoulder, but the elf shook his head. "I am fine. We must set up a command tent so you may assess the damage."

At least someone had their priorities in order.

Eragon found that Jormundur had already set up the tent and was attempting to reign in the crowds.

"The possibility of reaching the tent with all our faculties looks to be slim."

Eragon arched an eyebrow at Valbadan.

He looked slightly sheepish. "Is that not sarcasm?"

Eragon blinked, still a little stunned. "No, that's sarcasm."

"Did I misplace a word? Your expression is quite strange."

"…No, I'm just…not used to elves using…sarcasm."

"I was attempting to lighten your mood. You will need much endurance to repair the damage sustained at Uru'Baen."

Eragon took a deep breath. "Thanks." And then he plunged into the crowd, somehow managing to reach Jormundur within seconds. The commander looked relieved. "Shadeslayer, you've arrived. The most pressing matters are men and food. We have not catalogued the missing, nor do we have enough supplies to see us to even the week's end."

Eragon nodded. "Let's get to work then, shall we?"

Hearing reports of the dead and missing was both a great strain and a great relief to Eragon. Every name of the fallen brought him closer to despair, and every name of the survivors lifted some of the burden off his shoulders. He hadn't failed everyone.

The person he feared failing most was Roran.

Orik and Nar Garzhvog arrived at the command tent, and a messenger reported that Orrin was badly injured, but would survive. Trianna arrived, and Eragon felt like bursting when one of the spellcasters guarding him – another serious man, an older elf named Alard – made his way to the tent, injured but well.

And still, Roran was nowhere to be found.

Arya, Blodgharm, and Elva were missing, and the last time Baldor saw his brother and father, they were with Roran. Aside from Alard, all the spellcasters were missing.

Valbaden cheered up in the slightest when Alard appeared, speaking in the quick, quiet way elves do when speaking to each other, but nothing could lift the veil of sorrow hanging over their race, evident in their subdued manners and solemn expressions.

Queen Islanzadi was dead.

Eragon heard several colorful recounts of the event, and all said the same thing: the Queen fought bravely, the Varden lost a trusted ally, and the Elves a beloved Queen. Valbaden and Alard stayed by Eragon's side, despite this, but it was clear they were disturbed by her death, and the missing princess certainly didn't help their moods.

Only once did Eragon feel reduced to tears, and that was two days after they made camp, when a guard's voice rang out in the early morning.

Eragon jumped up and threw a shirt over his head, grabbing Brisingr and jumping out of his tent.

He froze.

Roran laughed. "Did we wake you, sleeping beauty?"

Eragon was too happy to see him to scowl. "You idiot. You look like you've been through hell and back."

Roran shrugged. "The next time someone tells me to take a trip, I can tell them where to get the best ale."

Eragon laughed and practically tackled his cousin, and the two embraced for a long moment. "You're an idiot." Eragon repeated.

"And so are you." Roran pushed him away. Eragon noticed he was favoring his right side.

"Let me heal that."

Roran shook his head. "Your energies are needed elsewhere." He stepped back, gesturing to a tent surrounded by people. Someone was yelling. "The trip took a heavy toll on Elva. She isn't well. The rest of us are more or less fine, but I was worried she would lose her mind before we reached you."

Eragon slipped through the crowd and into the tent, unsure of Roran was following.

Angela and Trianna were standing over the writhing girl, held to a cot by several sets of determined hands. "Keep her still!" Trianna snapped.

Albriech grunted, attempting to keep her arm from connecting with his bruised face. "Easier said that done."

"Here," Eragon pressed against the side of the cot, throwing his whole mind into Trianna and Angela's spells. Her madness was great, a cacophony of pain and suffering, blurred into one massive tangle of fear and hate.

Eventually, they managed to calm her into sleep, chasing the horrors into the far corner of her mind. Trianna slumped, exhausted, against the cot, sitting beside the girl and thanking the woman who had brought them water.

Angela waved the glass away and huffed, wiping a hand across the back of her forehead. "Where did you go, back in to Uru'Baen?" Angela demanded, arching an eyebrow at Albriech.

He looked a little flustered under the herbalist's gaze; he was just as bruised and weary as Roran, though, like the commander, seemed to be mostly intact. "We got caught between some walls, me, Roran, and father, and then the others found us and we escaped. We were caught in the bulk of his army, so we had to go wide, through the forest, instead of following you directly." He paused. "That's the short version. I'm rather glad to be back, honestly."

Eragon nodded. "I'm sure you are. Why don't you all go rest? You can tell us about it after you've slept."

Albriech nodded and stood straight, wincing at the cracking of his bones. "That's one order I'll be glad to follow. I'll tell the others."

Eragon looked to Trianna and Angela, both obviously tired from bringing the now sleeping Elva back from the brink of insanity. "Roran said they don't have any serious wounds, but I'm not inclined to take him entirely at his word. Would you assist me?"

Angela nodded, rolling up her sleeves. "I've heard too many stories of your cousin walking around with severe injuries. He's not getting away from me." Eragon smiled. If anyone could get his cousin to sit still, it would be Angela.

Trianna stood, nodding as well. "I am tired, but I can stand to heal a few more wounds. Between your two guards and Du Vrangr Gata, surely most of them have been healed or sent away."

As she had said, when they exited the tent, only Roran and Albriech remained, looking up at the trio's approach. "Everyone else has already retired." Albriech explained. "Two of your guard and a member of Du Vrangr Gata healed the worst of it."

Suddenly, Angela's hand shot out from behind Eragon, grabbing Roran's wrist and pulling him closer to her. He struggled briefly, but then her other hand was on his bruised rib and he froze. "Stop being so noble, Roran Stronghammer. You have a family to look after too."

He sighed as she let go of him. "Thank you."

She nodded briskly. "Go to your wife, and then go to sleep."

He flashed Eragon a bright grin before doing so, and then Albriech dipped his head and left too. Trianna sighed. "If you don't mind, I'll be retiring too."

As she left, Angela turned to Eragon. "You'd best be off as well."

He nodded, rubbing the back of his neck where a throbbing pain had settled. "I have to go tell Saphira the news."

He made his way back to his tent, and behind it sat Saphira, alert and waiting for him. Have you been told? He asked, letting her examine his memories.

Some. Our guard was kind enough to indulge me before retiring. Many of them have returned.

Good. Eragon felt better knowing they were safe. Or, at least, most of them. Which ones?

Blodgharm, Yaela, Galvin, and Zain. Invidia was the only other to escape Uru'Baen with them, but she was lost on the journey here. She hesitated, obviously wanting to say more.

So Blodgharm, Yaela, Galvin, Zain, Roran, Albriech, and Elva. Eragon counted. That's good to recover so many. What else did they tell you?

The villager Horst survived with them. She began. And Arya.

Eragon let out a breath he'd been holding for days. Did you speak to her?

I did not see her. Saphira sounded rather disappointed. Or Zain. Galvin said the two of them had overtaxed themselves healing your cousin. It was quite a serious injury.

Eragon sighed. Roran…

But they are safe.

He nodded, sighing again, this time in relief instead of mild frustration. Yes. We are all safe.

For the time being.

Saphira didn't bother to respond to the dismal thought.

Whew…finally finished. Eragon is so moody. More Varden in the next chapter! Anyway, I love you readers, keep reading and being awesome!