Hey look, an update! Haha. Sorry for not responding specifically to your reviews from the last chapter. They really are wonderful inspiration! I know this doesn't have anything with Eedom in it, but trust me when I say that both his and Catira's parts are going to get quite interesting soon. ;)

Diminished

Eragon couldn't help but feel relieved and content as he parted ways with Lenora at her house and made his way to…pretty much nowhere. Yesterday, he had had to chase after to Saphira and help her recover from Glaedr's violent rejection. More than one awkward moment had passed between him and Arya, most recently that episode of him creating that fairth of her…and he was sure his heart wouldn't let it be the last.

But, despite his sorrow for Saphira and from his own rejection, he was content. His lessons with Oromis and Vanir were progressing nicely, if not as wished for, thanks to Nora. And she had become his dearest friend since Murtagh's disappearance and Arya's aloofness. She understood his trials, his flaws, and his dreams; she listened to his rants and sorrows; and, no matter how his infirmity frustrated him, her patience as a healer seemed to grant her a new perspective of compassion and understanding. She no longer seemed annoyed with him every other minute.

When they were actually training together – about every other day in the evenings – he could clearly tell after a while that she was going easy on him and letting him win just enough to not be too suspicious. At first, it had made him angry and he had pushed himself more than once to the brink of one of his crippling attacks, but then he had accepted it as a fact: she was better than him and always had been. After all, she had grown up being trained by the king's best. Even if she had gotten a little rusty since her escape, the elves had clearly taken care of that and more. Now, not only was she a competent warrior, but she was an aspiring scholar, an excellent healer, and a stunning magician. It was humiliating, but the truth.

Still, she was a dear friend and a great listener, as of late. They had spent many evenings during the past two months staying up past exhaustion, just chatting and helping each other (mostly her helping him) with spells and tactical advice. She was certainly more solemn, serious, and sad since Farthen Dur; though she kept up a light-hearted, humorous front, there was a slight loss of sparkle and resigned anger in her eyes. If and when she stood with him against Galbatorix, he wasn't sure if he would need to do anything – he could see her being the ultimate embodiment of a woman's wrath, seeking revenge for Murtagh's death, the suffering of the people, the destruction of the Riders, and her own horrors from her youth. He still hadn't forgotten about that brand on her shoulder.

As he smiled at the thought of finding a sister in the most unlikely person, the daughter of his enemy, Eragon's worries over the king and Arya seemed to fade just a little. He hoped he would never have to got without his friend. Despite going easy on him, she had helped him with both her support and her example of strength. And she seemed perfectly content to help him. Maybe, the more of a healer she became, he eventually could overcome his infirmity and be strong enough to face Galbatorix. Without her, he would fail. With her, he felt hopeful.

The lad smiled again at a group of wolves in the shadows. He no longer questioned the presence of wild animals here. They were welcome and friendly, if sometimes skittish.

He didn't notice how they seemed to be waiting for something.

Two months had passed since her arrival in Ellesmera and, true to Catira's word, she seemed to have surpassed Eragon in ability…but she never let him see quite how far ahead she really was. Thanks to Cat's excessive training, she had found several ways to at least limit and calm the poor boy's attacks. And…she had discovered that he really wasn't all that bad. His pain, knowledge, and responsibility had aged his mind beyond that of the former idiotic farm boy, though his daftness still occasionally shocked her.

According to Cat and the other elf healers, she had a rare talent for healing and would one day equal, if not surpass, their abilities. Unfortunately, that 'one day' would probably not be soon enough. In fighting and magic, she had reached a comparable, if not equal, level, as well. In the frequent duels she underwent, she was now able to at least hold her own again Arya and actually beat the young elf Vanir (who was training Eragon). Catira, however, was still able to beat her in mere minutes…not surprising since the woman was even older than Arya. For two months, all she had done was eat, sleep, and breathe this training.

She was beyond anything she had reached during her time under Durza and Galbatorix. She could perform magic without uttering a single word or making any mistakes; once or twice, she had been able to look into a person's soul (called the 'healer's window') to see what was wrong both physically and mentally (though Catira considered this a last minute resort since you could accidentally stumble upon the individual's True Name); and, best of all, she had been able to sing herself a new tree home that was only ten feet off the ground. All in two months.

Exhausted from an entire day of physical training, Nora collapsed on the foot of her down mattress, ready to fall asleep in an instant. Just then, however, she noticed Catira standing in front of the window on the other side of the room with her back facing the trainee. The elf was wearing sleek black trousers, a dark green tunic, black boots, and a thick gray cloak, with an elven sword and dagger at her belt, a bow and quiver at her back, and a satchel at her feet – all as if she was about to embark on a long journey. Her not very elvish brown hair was held back by a black leather band.

"I knew that you left Uru'baen," Cat said thoughtfully, turning to face a now-upright Nora. "I created a spell that alerted me of when you left. But I didn't come to help you because I thought you would come here or that I would hear of your escape through other means. I didn't even imagine your plot. For that, I apologize."

"My plan was meant to be unpredictable. Why bring this up now, Cat?"

"I left because I was afraid that I would be recognized and that you would be punished for my lengthy presence…as if a child could have known. Now, I think that it may have been worth it to risk waiting until both of us could leave and I could bring you here."

"It would have been foolish. The elves wouldn't have trusted me then. Besides, I only left because I thought that Murtagh would join me a year later. Now, my brain is so muddled by his death…I don't know what I was thinking."

Yes, she had said 'death'. After all that time of trusting her instincts to tell her that Murtagh was captured but alive – even that dream – Lenora had given into the opinion of her peers. She thought she had been really falling in love with the boy. But he was gone and she had so many things to worry about with her training and deciphering a way to defeat Galbatorix that he had become nothing more than a fond memory and a motivation for revenge against the king. Catira probably noticed, but, instead of reacting, she remained in that faraway, thoughtful state. Her blue-grey eyes, normally alight with joy and hope, were sad and focused.

"I was merely eighty-two years old when I last participated in the Agaetí Blödhren celebration…too bad I'll miss it…and it's in less than a week. Hopefully, we'll all be alive for the next one."

"You're leaving? When?"

"Tonight." Nora was speechless. Hearing this news made her stomach drop, as if she would no longer be safe in this haven of elves. "I just wanted to say goodbye and tell you that I am very proud of the warrior and healer you've become."

"Cat, you're acting as if I'm not going to see you again. Where are you going?"

"There have been rumors of a new guerrilla faction 'somewhere in the middle of the Empire'. They're claiming to have ties to the Varden, but the Varden denies such a connection; however, one of the their village contacts, Tygrid, happens to be part of it. It seems that they are beginning to be quite a nuisance for the Empire."

"Potential allies. But why you?"

"I've been going back and forth about going on a mission again ever since I returned from Uru'baen the last time and this was a chance that allowed for some…freedom of movement."

"Why did you hesitate before now?"

This question significantly disturbed the elf.

"There are…reasons behind my acute hatred for Galbatorix. It was only the desire to find the last egg in his possession that drove me to finally attempt that mission as your maid, despite everyone's hesitance. This is my chance to return to active service for my people. I have been treated as a home commodity for many years, both as Arya's caretaker in her youth (when I was too worthless to do anything else) and as Oromis' healer. I have trained you enough for you to discover your own path – that was Oromis' excuse when I went on my first mission during the Fall, for he had seen me in battle already. You are your greatest critic, Lenora Garmdautr. Keep yourself safe."

"Catira, why do the elves keep calling me 'wolf daughter'?"

She didn't even blink.

"Because that is what the wolves call you."

Lenora awoke with a start, sweat dripping down her face…again. But this time, instead of some horror about Murtagh and Galbatorix, she dreamt about her mother. Nora had been sitting on her mother's knee as her six-year-old self, listening to the elf woman's beautiful voice croon a lullaby; but then, Ivanyel had turned into a wolf, jumped out the window, and disappeared into the night, leaving the child alone and frightened. Why did the wolves have to reenter her thoughts now?

Shaking away the chilled feeling that had descended, Nora reached for the cup of water on her nightstand and barely noted how much her night vision had improved with the elves. But, upon replacing the cup, she knocked something off of the table that she didn't recognize. As the thing had rolled under her bed, she crawled onto the floor and groped around until she grabbed it and brought it to the window for the moonlight. As soon as she saw what it was, the girl dropped it as if it was hot iron…but too late.

Like clockwork, half a dozen wolves howled towards the moonlight nearby and Nora hugged herself as goose-bumps covered her bare arms. Then she looked down at the hand that had held the ring – there was a glowing red mark that, while stinging before, had gone numb.

Was the room spinning? She couldn't feel her feet. And were those eyes there glowing in the dark?

She was on a cliff. And she was falling. Right into Shruikan's gaping maw.

"We are sorry, Garmdautr."

Catira let her mind wander as she let her feet lead her in the right direction. She was sad to leave Lenora now, but she was safe in Ellesmera and the elf needed to mend her own past of horror…not run away from it, but just to move on in her life. She couldn't sit around thinking about it anymore, the suffering she had endured after the Fall…it was too much. If she allowed herself to sit and think about it anymore…no, she needed her revenge on that filthy, trigger-happy, cruel…it was a good thing none of his little Forsworn minions were still alive for her to get her hands on…

She was born before the fall of the Riders and trained by them (mostly by Oromis) in the art of magic, though she excelled especially in healing among the elves. Still under Oromis' teaching, she fought against Galbatoroix and Forsworn after they had arisen. In fact, she and several other elves had been honored with a special mission: to recapture the Eldunari already in Galbatorix's possession. But her companions were killed and she herself had been…captured.

For a moment, Catira just stood in the darkness of the trees, shivering at the memory of that time. She was nothing compared to what she could have been. If not for Brom coming to rescue her…

This was why she needed to move on.

Eragon was carefully going to through the first stages of the Ragamar, very much looking forward to Nora's usual relieving visit so he could get some actual work done. But, instead of Lenora, it was a young elf who raced into Oromis' clearing with wide eyes and rather rushed sentences.

"Oromis-elda, some of us feared that there was something strange in the air…Islanzadi sent me...Lenora Ivanyelsdaughter has disappeared…we had thought that the wolf pack was harmless, but…" The elf gulped and took a moment to compose himself while Eragon just stared in horror, not believing his ears. "We don't know how, but Lenora and the wolves have disappeared; they took her in the night. Queen Islanzadi already sent out search parties, but I fear that Galbatorix or one of his servants has found a way through our nets."

Oromis quietly contemplated this news for moment, his eyes clouded with distress.

"I had hoped that it was only a false concern in the night. I thought I felt a surge of magic, but it was so faint that I thought… I believe the wolves have something to do with this, as you suspected – what exactly, I know not. We can only hope that this was a fluke and Galbatorix has not truly found a weakness in our only real defense against him. And if she has not been found yet…"

"Master," Eragon stuttered, "does this mean…" He couldn't say it.

"Eragon, I'm afraid that Lenora may be lost to us. Let us try scrying for her, but I fear that it may be for naught."

It wasn't exactly reassuring. He couldn't understand how a bunch of wolves could have just snatched the half-elf out of Ellesmera in the middle of night and not been caught yet, even traveling through the elf forest. Had he truly lost his friend and the only person who had helped him not become a crippled mess? The thought made his heart sink. Without her healing help, he could never possibly have the strength to go off and rescue her. He was helpless to help the woman who had done more for him than he ever deserved. He realized more than ever...he was diminished.