Alright the meeting with Oromis! Now when you read the chapter, before you exit, please read the author's note on the bottom! I shall have some things to explain to you all! And yes, I've been thinking and thinking and thinking, and I'm sure that I won't be able to have Eragon and Arya to come together at the Agaetí Blödhren. I want to explore every aspect of their relationship. But I'll have something special for that event so no need to worry.
Tiredly sitting up in her new bed, she rubbed a hand slowly over her face. She felt uneasy being at home. It would take time for her to reacquaint herself to being around other älfya. Glancing out of the teardrop hole in her tree that was given to her by her mother; she took in the early morning view. As a Dragon Rider, it would be unfit for Eridor to live in Tialdarí Hall; he was going to grow far larger than her chambers. Murtagh had an identical tree, which Riders had stayed in during their stays in Ellesméra, as they had in her own. Only Eragon was yet to be given one. He was confined in the dark hut isolated far from Ellesméra's center. Even so, Saphira had reluctantly stayed in Arya's tree for the night; refusing Murtagh's offer, after the incident with Thorn during Dagshelgr.
Arya's thoughts traveled to a topic she knew other elves had thought of as well; which Rider would stay in Vrael's personal tree? It was a symbol of authority, and as such would grant as much to whoever was given the tree.
The sapphire dragon was curled in upon herself, sleeping on the dais next to Eridor, who did not mind sharing his space with her. Thinking back to their journey was oddly comforting, though tiring. She had not shown it, but the close proximity of the two brothers had made her skin itch. Even though Arya had yet to see either one of them lose their temper, she was not sure which would make for the uglier scene. However, she knew for certain which would cause the most damage.
Her thoughts drifted to Eragon. Last night when she had gone to visit him, for some reason, he looked…lonely. His face was ashen and appeared tired beyond his years, as if he concealed a great pain. The urge to inquire was beaten down by her more natural habits. It was not her business to divine another's. Nor did her relationship with him seem strong enough to delve into such personal matters. But what was her relationship to Eragon? Arya thought of this as she washed herself, pleased to get rid of the dirt and filth from her body. She may not abide to wearing dresses, but hygiene was something she made sure to prioritize.
He was strange; she never knew what he would do or what he would say. Everyone in her eyes was predictable. It never took much time for her to divulge the nature of someone who was not of her race. But Eragon surprised her greatly. The only person I see you as, is Arya. The statement had shocked her to the core. Everyone wanted something from her, her mother wanted her love and loyalty, Murtagh wanted information and support, the Varden wanted her strength. Eragon had never asked anything of her, which only heightened her intrigue. It was a strange feeling—to not be relied on. He did not see her as a Rider or princess like her people and Mother, or as someone of great knowledge and strength like Murtagh, or as the elven ambassador like the Varden.
The only person I see you as, is Arya.
It was a relief beyond imagination—to speak to someone who expected nothing of her, who asked nothing of her. The joy that single statement had brought her made her ponder the situation. Was it because he was the only person who had ever said such a thing to her? Or was it another matter altogether? So many possibilities. Sighing, she pulled a pale tunic over her head, clinching it at the waist, slipping her sword onto her hip.
You have been deep in thought this morning. The deep voice rumbled in her head. Her green eyes darted to Eridor, who was getting to his feet; shaking his body to rouse himself. Having been accustomed to nigh on one hundred and four years of mental privacy, Arya still had to acquaint herself to having another presence in her mind. Good morning, she replied, tying her boots. Eridor had a calming influence on her. Unlike the wild minds of animals that she spoke to, his mind was tranquil and soothing, and it helped settle her nerves.
That it is, Arya Svit-kona. Arya offered the sapphire dragon a rare smile as she watched her stretch her neck, letting out a loose roar. No doubt her people would be rejoicing at hearing such a long forgotten sound in their forest.
Isn't she beautiful? Eridor praised. That was another thing to worry about. Saphira, being the only female dragon, was going to have to divide her attentions between Thorn and Eridor and it was clear to her that the emerald green dragon had taken a great liking to her.
A knock on her door startled them. Regaining her composure, she called in the ancient language for the person to enter, knowing it was her mother. She was wary of the confrontation that may occur. Last night, her mother had shown disapproval towards Eragon, despite the fact that he had saved her life. She particularly disliked her mother's control over whom she associated herself with. "Mother." Arya inclined her head.
"Good morning," Islanzadí greeted, inclining her head towards Eridor and Saphira, who acknowledged her in return, though the blue dragon nodded her head rather stiffly. "I hope the day finds you well, my daughter."
"It does… I did not expect you to arrive so early."
She did not answer, but instead turned. Her velvet cape billowed behind her, her right hand motioning. "Come." Without a word she followed her mother. Saphira and Eridor followed them from their descent out of the teardrop. Her course took them to the edge of Ellesméra, where the paths were faint and the buildings few.
Islanzadí stopped them at a wooded knoll and within moments, Murtagh and Orik appeared. Not far behind was Eragon, led by two elves that were holding his arms in place, their swords pressed against his neck. Dark bags were prominent under his eyes. He has seemed to be excessively tired in recent days. She could not remember a time seeing him rising from a peaceful sleep recently.
Islanzadí spoke, "Before we go any further, the five of you must swear in the ancient language that you will never speak to outsiders of what you are about to see, not without permission from me, my daughter, or whomever may succeed us to the throne."
"I thought you did not put trust in mere words," Eragon said, as Murtagh and Orik hesitantly gave their oaths followed by Thorn and Eridor.
Her mother's eyes narrowed. "In this case, I have no other choice but to do so." After a brief pause, Eragon gave it and so did Saphira.
"Thank you," said Islanzadí. "Now we may proceed."
The moved to the top of the knoll, which looked down on the forest of Ellesméra, as if it were the edge of the world and she stood on the brink of it. Arya saw a flash of recognition in Murtagh's eyes.
Loud thuds met their ears, so loud that her eardrums soon felt as if they were on the verge of bleeding, though she resisted the urge to cover her ears. Then from the edge of the cliff rose a huge gold dragon with a Rider on its back; Glaedr and Oromis. She watched her companions' reactions closely; Murtagh fell to his knees while Eragon watched on, unsurprised.
Oromis carefully descended from his dragon's back, his hands clasped before him as he approached Murtagh. "The Mourning Sage…as you asked, I have come." Remembering his manners, he hastily placed his fingers to his lips. "Atra esterní ono thelduin."
Arya frowned, he had known of Oromis? Her Mother, however, bypassed shock and turned to anger. "You knew?" she whispered. "You knew of their existence and yet you did not tell me? Why have you betrayed me, Shur'tugal?"
Oromis smiled sadly. "I kept my peace because it was uncertain if the Shur'tugal would live long enough to come here; I had no wish to give you a fragile hope that might have been torn away at any moment." Islanzadí spun about, her cape billowing about her.
"You had no right to withhold such information from me! I could have sent guards to protect them!"
"I hid nothing from you, Islanzadí, but what you had already chosen not to see. If you had scryed the land, as is your duty, you would have discerned the source of the chaos that has swept Alagaësia and learned the truth of their existence. That you might forget the Varden and the dwarves in your grief is understandable, but your own daughter? You have been blind to the world, Islanzadí, and lax upon your throne. I could not risk driving you further away by subjecting you to another loss."
Her mother's anger drained from her face, leaving her pale and her shoulders slumped. "I am diminished." Arya watched as Oromis and Glaedr took notice of Murtagh and Thorn before moving onto herself.
"It was a pleasant surprise when I saw you, Arya, a Rider," Oromis said, smiling kindly at her. She nodded.
"I, too, was surprised, if not a little overwhelmed." Eridor, who stood still at Glaedr's inspection, was waiting patiently for his evaluation. We are well met, Eridor. I am Glaedr. She smiled when Eridor's joy at passing under the great dragon's eyes reached her. Then it was time for the moment they had been waiting for; Oromis slowly approached Eragon. His expression was the kindest she had ever seen. It must be a connection he felt for him, as he too had been captured and tortured by Galbatorix's orders.
But Eragon refused to look Oromis in the eye. "Eragon Shadeslayer, I apologize for your situation," Oromis began softly. He motioned to the elves and they hesitantly backed away, though still close enough to react if need be. "It is an honor to meet Brom's son."
If anything, the comment only served to further distance Eragon from Oromis. As she stared at the two figures, it was as if watching a brilliant light colliding with a dark abyss. The more Oromis tried to extend his kindness towards Eragon, the more he withdrew from the Rider. It was as if he had forgotten long ago how to act in the presence of kindness. The thought made a strange warmth pass through her. "There is no need to recoil so, Eragon." Oromis spoke softly clasping his shoulders, turning so Eragon to face him. "I've seen it in your travels, in your eyes, your heart is pure."
"Then you are blind." Eragon murmured stubbornly. The two elves bristled at this, but Arya stayed calm. She knew enough of Eragon to know that he was cold to strangers. Oromis did not seem fazed by his attitude, but instead nodded.
"By your leave, Islanzadí Dröttning?"
"Go," she said, "Go and be done with you."
Oromis motioned for the three of them to follow. Eridor was still too young for her weight. Swiftly mounting Saphira, she gave no mind to her mother's stare. That could wait for later. Within moments, Eragon was settled behind her, his hands come to rest on her waist. Together the four dragons flew northward for several miles to land in a clearing situated near the edge of a cliff. A low hut was grown between the trunks of the trees.
"Welcome to my home," said Oromis as his feet touched the ground. Sliding from Saphira's back, she watched Eragon's back as he approached the edge of the cliff, his tall figure stark against the bright sky in which the sun was raised overhead. Whatever he was thinking was hidden by his detached expression, in which nothing seemed to interest him. "I live here, on the brink of the Crags of Tel'naeír. It provides me the opportunity to think and study in peace. My mind works better away from Ellesméra and the distraction of other people."
He disappeared inside his hut, returning with stools in his hands. As they took their seats, he made another trip to retrieve four flagons of clear, cold water for them. As they sat and waited for what felt like hours, Arya was surprised that Murtagh could sit still. Usually he was bursting with questions. But he waited patiently, sipping his cool water. Eragon had his eyes closed for the entire time so it looked as if he were sleeping, though she knew better.
After some time, Oromis spoke, "You have learned the value of patience well. That is good."
"You can't stalk a deer if you are in a hurry," Murtagh replied. She watched as Oromis lowered his flagon and nodded, before asking to see Murtagh's hand. It was easy to depict the nature of a person by studying their palms, but it was a practice that eluded her. Only those with the experience required could hope to divine a person through their hands. "Correct me if I am wrong. You have wielded a scythe and plow more often than a sword, though you are accustomed to a bow."
"Aye."
"And you have done little writing or drawing, maybe none at all."
"Brom taught me my letters in Teirm." The corners of Eragon's mouth curved downward. And so on it went until Oromis turned to her. Arya had to admit, it felt unusual to consider Oromis was her teacher now. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined this moment, until Eridor had hatched for her.
"You are very accustomed to a sword, a master even, and talented with a bow." Oromis observed with a slight smile, as if expecting what he saw. "You write with elegant script and beautiful lines. And I must say; there is not a single scar on your hands. With what you have experienced, I am quite surprised it is so."
Just a small tinge of pride colored her emotions. Oromis then turned to Eragon. She could see the interest that was piqued in Murtagh, as he watched and she did as well. He said nothing when Oromis took hold of his hands with a soft expression. "You are very talented with the sword, very talented indeed. Are you ambidextrous?"
Eragon nodded his head. "It's easier to kill with two hands instead of one," he replied quietly.
"You have written much, though I cannot say the same for drawing. Very little use of a bow as well," Oromis concluded. He released Eragon's hands and turned to them. "Every day an hour after dawn starting tomorrow, the six of you shall come here to train with Glaedr and I."
"Yes, Master Oromis," the three intoned, Arya and Murtagh answering quickly, Eragon hesitating slightly before responding as well, albeit with a slight hint of disdain. "Though," he turned his eyes to Arya and Eragon, "I am unsure how much training the two of you will require. I know the extent of your learning, Arya, and I have the letter from Brom explaining your training, Murtagh, but I know nothing of yours, Eragon."
He took a seat again on his stool, "From your hands I can tell that you both are well experienced with the sword. But I would like to see the extent of your skill for myself." Glancing from Arya to Eragon. "I would see you spar with one another."
Arya nodded, but Eragon shook his head. "I do not have a weapon. Queen Islanzadí has not returned my swords yet." As an answer to this, Murtagh held out Zar'roc and she could see in his eyes the curiosity of whether or not his younger brother could contend with her. She too was curious, Arya thought as she drew her blade, dulling it. Eragon did the same, after accepting Zar'roc from Murtagh with a nod. He looked apprehensive to fight, which only served to anger her. If he thought that being a woman was a disadvantage for her, she would correct his poor judgment.
They stood facing one another, their blades drawn to their sides. He blinked and she returned the gesture and within seconds, they charged, with blades raised. When her blade met Zar'roc, she was not surprised when a strong resistance met her strength. But what did surprise her was when he brought his foot up to meet her face. Jumping back slightly, she frowned. Running forward, she made a cut for his side, watching as he easily jumped over her blade, his body twisting in air as he righted himself meeting her blade as she aimed another swipe for him, watching when he landed easily on the ground.
Eragon's fighting style was unusual. She had never seen such a fight form like his before. Even though they fought with swords, he used his free hand or his feet to draw out her openings, bringing her onto the defense. Then there were times when she would ferociously charge him, only to have him dodge and jump out of the way. His control over such agile movements was exceptional. He would dance around her blade; never show her the same angle to attack from.
Time seemed to stand still for them as they fought, always dancing together, to let the flow of the moment push their bodies away. Eventually, she began to tire; even an elf could not continue fighting forever. Observing his languid movements and calm demeanor, frustration clouded her mind. How could Eragon, someone who had not eaten or rested well the previous night, continue fighting without his limbs tiring? Even when it was well over half an hour that they began sparring, his breathing was regular and his movements' fluid as if they had first begun. Arya pulled back, watching as Eragon ran forward, she stretched her arms, as if to cut her sword horizontally across his body.
He had anticipated the movement. With a fluid jump, he gripped her wrist as he flew into the air, his eyes leveled with hers. And as fast as he was there, he was gone, she heard him land lightly on the grass behind her. Swinging her sword to the side, she attempted to hide her frown when Eragon gripped her wrist, his strength holding her sword hand in place. She felt his other arm twist around her, Zar'roc meeting her throat, the cool blade resting there.
She froze at the close but intimate proximity; there was no space between their bodies as he held her there. She could feel his smooth breathing on the back of her neck. One emotion that she had thought she had grown out of came back to her, which raised the hair on the back of her head. A sudden nervousness. Arya felt it rise when she heard him murmur softly by her ear. "Dead."
Now for some explaining to do. This chapter is not the confrontation between Oromis and Eragon. No, that would be the next chapter. For them to have a confrontation, I need them to both be alone and they will be. This probably isn't my best chapter, but I'll be perfecting my writing skills soon enough. Questions and suggestions are always welcome to me, so don't forget to review. And I hope you like the sparring, that won't be the only time they will be fighting one another. And I think I'm going to have Vanir introduced into the story a little earlier. I'm not sure how, but I shall be working on that. :) See you next chapter everyone, and I hope I won't be too late on updating it.