Hello again, all! Thank you, ALWAYS, for reading and commenting~ You guys are amazing, and I appreciate you so much~!

Now for today's ramble! So a fan recently asked CP on Twitter if Murtagh learned the arts (dancing, singing, drawing, etc.) growing up as a nobleman's child, and CP confirmed that YES, Murtagh is a very good dancer! I just can't even. When someone responded to that comment that they needed a scene of Murtagh dancing, CP simply said "ok." So I fully anticipate a dancing scene in an upcoming short story or Book V, hahaha…

Murtagh just keeps getting better and better. Like my goodness.

Chapter 20

Ellesméra had changed little in the time Eragon was away. Enormous trees weaved themselves into elven dwellings, and elf and nature coexisted in perfect harmony. A great feast was prepared to celebrate the return of Eragon—and also Brom—and the entire capital filled with ancient song. The elves told tales with their music, and no matter if the song was mournful or merry, it stirred in Eragon a sense of peace that would not depart.

The faelnirv probably helped.

Nearly everyone in the city had gathered together in a wide open area, and the roots of enormous trees reached out of the soil and created for them tables on which their food sat. In the center of the area were elves who sang in perfect unison stories of times long past. They had no need of instruments, for anything else would have detracted from the music's beauty.

Eragon sat near Brom and Selena. Arya was not far from them and was at an angle which allowed him to look at her from time to time. In the flurry of activity that followed their entrance to the city, he had not had an opportunity to speak with her in private. For now, he was content to eat, drink, and rest.

Brom drank his liquor and started brooding about recent events, his head down and his fingers tapping along the bark of the tree. He had learned of Oromis and Glaedr's deaths during the war, but no one—possibly by order of Arya—divulged Murtagh's part in it. Nevertheless, Brom was in a foul mood.

Beside him, Selena drank a great deal and became loud and energized. For a while she chattered with Brom who, for the most part, avoided her gaze, and then she leaned backwards and tried to strike up a conversation with Eragon instead. Finally his mother changed seats and sat directly beside him, and as she spoke, she fixed a curl of his hair that was out of place.

Eragon melted.

For most of his life, he only had memories of living with Garrow and Roran. His aunt Marian had passed early on. A mother's love and touch were not familiar to him, and every time Selena went out of her way to touch his back, squeeze his shoulder, or show affection in any other way, it filled him with warmth. Her hands were always kind and supportive, always lending strength, and he wondered how he went through most of his life without it. It was clear immediately that she loved him more than anything in the world, and whenever he stopped to really think about it, tears came to his eyes. It was a powerful thing, a parent's love.

As his mother waved her hand for another drink and Brom suggested she stop, Eragon noticed Thorn scowling at his untouched meal. The child sat apart from them, though not far, and refused to acknowledge anyone. On several occasions, when the words of a song became particularly somber, he would bite his lower lip and rub his eyes. It was during one such song that Eragon slipped out of his place and went to join him.

"Your empty belly will do Murtagh no good," Eragon said, sitting in a seat beside him.

Thorn did not move away from him as he did with anyone else, but the child cast his eyes away and to the ground. "I will not gorge myself while my Rider sits outside hungry."

Eragon blinked at the tray of food in front of Thorn, the berries and vegetables a colorful and artful display. The child had even refused water. Eragon doubted Murtagh was as poor off as he thought, but a rabbit was not quite a feast like this. Nevertheless, he said, "Murtagh wanted you to recover your strength. It would hurt him if he saw you like this."

A familiar blaze erupted in Thorn's eyes, and his hands squeezed into white fists upon his thighs. His words were sharp as knives. "Do not act as though you know how he feels."

With a sigh, Eragon sat straight and held his tongue. Selena slid off her perch and staggered from drink. Completely ignoring the fact that Thorn was a dragon of ancient wisdom and power, she clapped a hand on each of his cheeks and squeezed his face until his lips puckered. Eragon and Brom stared with wide eyes, and many of the elves who were eating and singing stopped what they were doing. Arya's lips curled into a smile, but she abruptly concealed it behind her drink. Meanwhile, Thorn lost every ounce of hostility in him and sat with his jaw hanging.

"Would it make you feel better," began Selena, and she released him, "if I brought Murtagh something to eat?"

"Y-you would do that?" Thorn asked, and the surprise in his voice was almost painful.

"Of course." Touching the tip of his nose with her finger, she said, "But in exchange you must also eat and stay healthy."

"Do you promise?"

"Yes."

Thorn scrutinized her and then turned back to his meal. It took a moment, but then he plucked a berry off the tray and popped it into his mouth. After only one bite, his eyes lit up and he attacked the rest of the food as though not having eaten for days.

Selena stood tall and set her hands on her hips. Tipping her head in Arya's direction, she asked, "Would it be acceptable to prepare something for Murtagh?"

Arya set her drink down, and her eyes shone like starlight. "Of course."

"Thank you."

Brom held his cup in both hands and swirled the liquid inside. With a tinge of hostility, he said, "That is not necessary. Leave him be, for he cannot be trusted."

At this, Selena and a few elves gave him their full attention. Thorn stopped eating and rolled a bright red berry between his thumb and forefinger. Eragon traced the gaps in the tree bark with his eyes and then stared hard at an ant as it crawled out of hiding.

"And I am of the opinion that he can be, for he has done nothing to convince us otherwise." As Selena spoke, everyone around them silenced. Even the singers ceased their melodies. If she was bothered about having an audience, she did not make it known. "Or have you forgotten how he rescued us in the valley? There was no way he could have known who we were before he engaged the enemy, and his surprise upon seeing us for the first time suggested he helped us first only because we were people in need." Leaning forward, she pressed her hands flat on the table. "Furthermore, he was looking for Eragon all that time, and he brought him back to us! We owe him a great deal for that."

"You do not understand!" Brom rose and slammed his hands over the bark of the tree. Both Eragon and Thorn jumped, and everyone was staring. "He is Morzan's son and a wanted criminal!"

Selena huffed and straightened, her feet steady despite the liquor in her. She and Brom stared at each other as if waging war with their eyes, and neither wavered.

Arya took a drink and then set her cup down. It was her calm voice that next broke the silence and prevented them from speaking more heated words. "Perhaps it will not convince you one way or another, but allow me to share something with you." Her piercing gaze fell upon Brom. "It was a former knight of the Empire who first alerted King Orrin of Murtagh's presence in Surda. The man claimed Murtagh used magic to rescue a group of humans from slave traders and then raided a Ra'zac lair to rescue a group of children. The second account of Murtagh's presence came from several sailors who claimed a magic user boarded their ship and used his mind to save them from a sea serpent." At this, the corners of her lips twitched upward. "Murtagh was not reported for causing harm. Rather, the people expressed gratitude for his use of magic and for saving their lives."

Brom did not react, and his hard expression did not change.

Eragon continued to stare down at the bark on the tree while drowning in a flood of emotions that he successfully contained but failed at truly understanding. For his parents he felt a dull ache in his chest and hoped that they would see eye to eye again soon. Appreciation for Arya welled up in him and nearly brought tears to his eyes. Her tact at handling the situation was commendable, and she spoke with the wisdom and elegance of a queen.

Yet he was overwhelmed by her statements and those of Selena as well. It was new information to him that Murtagh had been searching for him. He woke up in Alagaësia with Murtagh at his side, but he had made a quick assumption that somehow chance brought them together. Never did he expect the other Rider to seek him out short of a command from Galbatorix. And to learn that Murtagh had been traveling throughout Alagaësia aiding everyone in need was equally as confusing, for it did not suit his character—or at least that is how Eragon thought.

With a sigh, Selena turned to Arya and said, "About food for him…"

Brom plucked his staff from alongside the tree and spun on his heels, storming down the path and towards his borrowed residence in the city. Barely noticeable, Selena watched him out of the corner of her eye.

Arya closed her eyes a moment and then nodded at Selena. "I will have a meal brought to Murtagh. You need not be concerned."

"Thank you."

And that was the end of it. Meals were finished, the music faded, and everyone departed to their own places.

Selena touched Eragon's shoulder before he could leave, and she kissed his cheek. Brushing his hair back across his head, she said, "Rest well, my love. A great challenge awaits you tomorrow."

Heat rose to Eragon's cheeks, and he grinned from ear to ear. Every touch and every word from her elicited from him immeasurable joy and strength, as if he was a small child being told by his mother that he could conquer the world—and believing it. "Thank you, Mother," he whispered. "Rest well."

Her brown hair twirled as she spun and disappeared down the path. Eragon watched her until she was completely out of view. In the meeting space, a few elves lingered and cleaned away all traces of the festivities and made the area look exactly as it really was: a forest with gnarled roots that leapt out of the dirt. As before, small lights flitted around and left trails of sparkling dust in their wake like enchanted fireflies.

Thorn remained seated and stared at the dirt, his eyelids heavy and lips pulled down. A few of the lights danced over his head, but he did not acknowledge them.

Eragon inhaled slowly and dared to take a seat beside him. "Do you want to come with me?"

"Why?" asked the child, unmoving.

"Because I miss Saphira," he answered, "and you miss Murtagh. We will make fine company for each other."

Thorn turned his head and blinked tears out of his eyes. It was hard to accept that this child was a noble dragon. "This body is troublesome. Humans are such emotional creatures."

"Exhaustion will have that effect on us," Eragon laughed. Standing, he offered his hand to Thorn. At first the child scrunched his forehead at the gesture, and then he slapped his little hand into Eragon's with enough speed to make it sting. Eragon only laughed harder and held Thorn's hand in his own. "You make a terrible human, Thorn."

"Of course. I am a dragon."

Eragon kept hold of the boy's hand and pulled him off his seat. Together they started down a winding path of twirling lights and creeping vines. Halfway down the walkway, Eragon halted and held his breath, for Arya was waiting amidst the shadows. A light spun across her face and illuminated her eyes like polished emeralds in blazing daylight. Her braid was undone and her raven hair cascaded over her shoulders.

"May I walk with you?" she asked.

Without thinking, he nodded.

Together they crept through the city towards Eragon's former dwelling, and they spoke of everything they had on their mind. Eragon told Arya of the current situation as far as he knew, and Arya did likewise. Most of the information was not new to either of them, but it lifted a heavy weight off his shoulders to speak it aloud.

As they neared their destination, Eragon squeezed Thorn's hand and said to Arya, "Murtagh is keeping something a secret, something important." In response, Thorn only rubbed his crimson eyes and opened his mouth in a wide yawn. His lack of reaction did not make Eragon think otherwise.

"You think he is planning something?" Arya folded her arms across her abdomen, her shoulders back.

"I honestly have no idea," Eragon admitted, and once more he peeked at Thorn out of the corner of his eye in the hopes of catching some sort of unintended reaction. The little boy wobbled on his feet and nearly toppled over, his eyelids falling before abruptly shooting open again. "But as long as he keeps secrets during a time like this, it troubles me. He knows what it means to me, especially regarding Saphira, and yet conceals information." Perhaps he was tired, but his words sounded rather too childish even to his own ears.

Once again, faelnirv likely did not help.

Arya supported her chin with one hand, and for a moment she said nothing. Eragon's hands started to perspire to the point that Thorn wrinkled his nose and broke their connection. The child then went on to wipe his hand on his brown leggings. Eragon's face burned.

"So you are fully aware," began Arya slowly, "Murtagh is not restricted from Ellesméra due to his affiliation with Morzan or Galbatorix. Rather, it is on account of Oromis and Glaedr that we cannot permit him entrance now. It is too soon for my people to accept him." Then her face softened and her eyelids lowered. Her thick, black eyelashes stood in stark contrast to her eyes. "However, you should remember that Murtagh did not choose Morzan and did not choose Galbatorix. Yet, when given the choice, Eragon, he chose you."

Every last bit of remaining anger and frustration in Eragon crumbled, and her words took his breath away. As he tried to remember how to breathe, tears welled up and threatened to fall down his face. In all of his time spent traveling—in all of his experiences with Murtagh—he had failed to see it.

On their flight to Farthen Dûr, despite their scuffles, Murtagh had not abandoned him despite the fate he knew awaited him at the Varden. On the Burning Plains, during their ill-fated reunion, Murtagh had risked the wrath of Galbatorix in order to allow him to escape. In the castle of Urû'baen, Murtagh had broken free from his oaths to Galbatorix and spoke the Name that stripped Galbatorix of his defenses. Even now, though Eragon did not understand completely, Murtagh was helping him—searching for him when he was lost, rescuing him from the nightmares in his mind, and aiding him in his quest to rescue the dragons.

Familiar feelings of affection for Murtagh stirred in him that he often thought better to bury, but now he accepted them. The other was not without his shortcomings, but he was genuinely trying and had been from the start. Eragon wondered why it was so painfully easy for him and for everyone to ignore the good Murtagh did and accept only that he was Morzan's son and nothing else.

A single tear escaped down his cheek, and he struggled to blink the rest back as he met Arya's gaze. "Thank you." From the bottom of his heart, he meant it.

Arya nodded. "Rest well, Eragon." Then, she departed.