I truly cannot be trusted when I say I will or won't update can I? Mind you, I had every intention to wait to post this when I stared writing it, but the instant gratification of being able to share it was too great. I'm sure your all broken up about it.
Also, MARRY CHRISTMAS! That was another reason for this surprise chapter.

I truly don't know what I'll do from now on when it comes to updates. I am sorry I'm so unreliable.

Special thanks to CerealReader for weeding out the mistakes in this chapter. Any further mistakes. . . blame ff for not transferring text correctly.

Lastly, in this chapter the story officially earns its M rating. Last chance to bail.

They stood there on that patch of ground for a long time, long after Murtagh was out of sight.

"I am sorry," Eragon tried to reassure Helena, when finally, he couldn't stand the silence anymore. "I know this isn't how you wanted this to end."

Helena turned to face him and in her eyes Eragon could see that Murtagh's parting words had shaken her. "Eragon," she spoke slowly, softly, "is there any truth to what Murtagh said about me? Do I force my views on others?"

"I don't think so," he answered without really thinking about it. "At least I never felt like that," he amended, though he wasn't sure he meant it; Helena had vexed him more than once over the last week. Her disappointment over his determination to see the Urgals pay for their crimes being the first thing to come to mind. Still, it wasn't like she forced him to do or think anything. She merely didn't stay quiet about her opinion. And yet. . . yes, Eragon knew what Murtagh was talking about when he mentioned Helena's disappointed look. And that wasn't even mentioning her insistence on giving away Rider secrets, though to be fair, Eragon hadn't objected as much as he could have. It was difficult for him to argue against it when all he had was doubts when she displayed nothing but certainty.

But that wasn't something that she needed to hear right now. "You care, and you care deeply, about good and evil," he continued to say and this time he didn't doubt his own words. "How can I – how can anyone – begrudge you that, when it is that very caring that drives you to fight for a world that isn't even your own."

Helena nodded slowly, considering his words. "Yes." She smiled to herself and Eragon congratulated himself for it. "Yes, there is nothing wrong with pushing someone to be better than they are."

Eragon managed to keep the frown from his face. That wasn't exactly what he had meant. There was a measure of arrogance in claiming to know what was best for someone, even better than they knew it themselves. He didn't agree with how harsh Murtagh had been with her, but he understood why his brother – and yes Eragon still somehow considered Murtagh such – hadn't been fond of his Helena these past few weeks. Wasn't it Helena herself who wanted him to respect other people's cultures? Yet when they were researching the dwarven customs, he noticed how much his fellow rider disapproved of them.

He wasn't going to mention that though, at least not now.

'You do her no favors by not sharing your observations, just to spare her feelings,' Saphira reproached him in his mind.

'Later, when things are less tense,' he promised. He looked forward to the coming days of simple traveling, with no plots, enemies, or important decisions to worry them.

But speaking of important decisions. . . "Before we return there is one more thing we need to discuss."

"Hmm?"

"Orik brought me an interesting offer yesterday. I didn't want to bring it up while the Murtagh situation was still unresolved," he said. What he didn't say was that he also wanted some time to think on it before sharing the news. Make sure that he knew what he wanted before Helena would sweep him along in whatever she wanted like with the twins. Decisive and driven woman, his little colleague.

At a look from her, Eragon continued. "Hrothgar has offered to adopt us in his clan, Dûrgrimst Ingeitum."

As Eragon expected, Helena rolled her head upwards and groaned. "Let me guess, we can't refuse without offending?"

This, this right here, was why he had told Orik he wanted to discuss it with Helena in private before the dwarf made the offer to her in person.

He raised a questioning eyebrow. "Do you want to refuse?"

Helena crossed her arms in front of chest. "I question Hrothgar's motives. I doubt he is so fond of us that he views us as family."

"That this is political move is obvious, even to me, but that doesn't mean we should refuse it out of hand. I don't think Hrothgar would have offered it, regardless of what it would gain him, if he didn't think us worthy of the honor. And it is an honor," he insisted, "no human has ever been given this chance."

"But what would be expected of us? Would it make us beholden to Hrothgar, as well as Nasuada."

"I don't know, but we are already beholden to Hrothgar. By gratitude and duty. The Riders are supposed to protect and serve everyone, including the dwarves. Even without this, we would have a hard time refusing any reasonable request that Hrothgar could make of us."

Judging by her frown, she wasn't convinced. "Then what is the point of it. We could do all that without being adopted. Making promises or swearing oaths is one thing, but you can't force, trick, or maneuver anyone into feeling like family."

"There is that," Eragon allowed. He hadn't been thrilled when he received the offer either. "But can we refuse?"

"That was my question wasn't it," Helena smiled wryly. "And should we even? I mean, will the offer stand when Hrothgar guesses at our involvement in Murtagh's escape? He specifically warned us not to do that. I can't imagine he will be pleased."

"I have thought of that," Eragon said, and he had. "To minimize damage, we will need to confess our part in this, and why we did it. I doubt he will be happy, but it is better that we are upfront about it. He can decide whether or not to retract his offer then, but we must decide what we want first."

"How public is this offer already?"

"I don't know, but even if Hrothgar is the only one who would know, we shouldn't spurn him lightly. Besides, perhaps this will help us. Attending a few family dinners would be a small price to pay to make the dwarves more friendly towards us." Eragon reflected that Helena had had a point when she said they would have to do a lot of things that they didn't like if they wanted to succeed. This didn't seem like a great sacrifice. "And who knows? If we keep an open mind, perhaps we will one day view someone like Orik as family."

"Stranger things have happened," Helena agreed and Eragon could see by her contemplative expression that she was coming around to the idea. "I guess I am just afraid that I will end up disappointing them if I agree to– what they consider a huge honor, with halfhearted resolve like that."

"That wouldn't be your fault. They offered it to you– us, while having a decent grasp of the kind of people we are."

Helena still looked a little stubborn. "We are not changing ourselves on their behalf."

"We will try to understand them and make an effort to get along," Eragon tried to sound firm. "Which is something we have been doing since this began, haven't we?"

"I guess there is some truth to that," Helena sighed. "Very well," she conceded with all the enthusiasm of a child forced to clean her bedroom.

Eragon couldn't help but give her a soft hug while patting her back. "There, there," he said soothingly. "I will protect you from all the mean in-laws."

"My hero," she gushed and pretended to swoon in his arms.

Though Eragon didn't start off with any ulterior motives when he hugged her, the way Helena felt as she was pressed against him urged him to lift her face up by her chin to face him and kiss her repeatedly. After a moment's surprise, she started to reciprocate and seemed to melt herself even closer to him.

At that moment, Eragon decided that it wasn't so bad Murtagh had left. Perhaps he really was a. . . what was expression Helena used again? Ah yes, a third wheel.

Eventually, after about a minute, Eragon forced himself to step back from Helena, holding her shoulders with his hands so she couldn't follow. It all started to get a bit much for him. Any more and he felt he wouldn't be able to control himself anymore, and he couldn't allow that.

They weren't even married yet.

"We shouldn't keep the world waiting," he said, still smiling.

'Indeed,' Saphira's said slowly, drawing out the word in teasing manner. 'Arya especially has been getting impatient. I didn't want to interrupt, however.'

They could go from Hrothgar straight to Orik and Arya. All their personal possessions had already been loaded up and attached to Godric and Saphira. There wasn't much to be honest. Eragon didn't own anything important besides, Zar'roc and Saphira's saddle. Helena kept everything magically sealed in her pouch and the dragon armor would leave with the Varden to Surda.

"I suppose," Helena sighed, and Eragon was glad that she sounded disappointed. "Grab on, then," she said, reaching out an arm for him to gab.

He resisted the urge to groan and grabbed her arm. Three seconds later, the world started spinning again and he was being squeezed through a hole that was way too small. Eragon wondered if it was just their souls that were traveling through space when Helena apparated them. Certainly, their physical bodies would never survive such abuse.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Hrothgar wasn't in his throne room. As this wasn't a scheduled visit or summons from the king, it made sense that he wasn't there. When asked, they were directed to the dwarven monarch's personal study.

According to one of the king's guards, Hrothgar was currently reading over reports of the last sightings of Urgal activity in the region. It was nothing that couldn't be delayed for a short visit, and they were let in without issue; a testament to the new respect and trust these dwarves now had for them.

Hrothgar's study took Eragon by surprise. While the young rider could understand and even respect modesty, the furniture in this room looked outright worn-out. The edges of the simple wooden table were worn away and several ink spots dotted the surface. Ajihad's study, while not overly ostentatious by any means, still gave the impression of refinement. This place. . . didn't.

Still. . . Eragon felt comfortable in this room. It had a familiar feel; not shiny perhaps, but full of history.

"It is good to see you, though this is surprise," Hrothgar greeted them, motioning towards a collection of stools that were stacked on top of each other. "I had expected that you would leave for the elves as soon as possible, thought I can guess your purpose."

Eragon pulled two chairs from the top of stack and gave one to Helena. The chairs looked as old as the table.

"I take it you are here regarding my offer of adoption into Dûrgrimst Ingeitum?" Hrothgar continued.

"It is related, your majesty," Eragon nodded, both in agreement and in deference. "And we would be honored to accept, if it will still be offered at the end of this meeting."

"That sounds ominous," Hrothgar said mildly, crossing his fingers together. "Why would it not?"

Eragon briefly looked to Helena for support and found her doing the same. "We freed Murtagh," he said.

Hrothgar's featured tightened. "I see. I feared that you would. I think I specifically warned you, not to do this exact thing not even three days hence." The king took a long breath. "Why did you take matters into your own hands? Could you not trust us to do the right thing?"

"We made a promise," Eragon said. "In order to convince Murtagh to follow us to the Varden, we promised him that we would protect him if they turned on him."

"He shouldn't have come here in the first place if he was so reluctant. Still. . . a tricky situation," Hrothgar admitted. "You chose the path that would preserve the most of your honor. I suppose I can understand, but you must be more careful with your promises. If your word means that much to you – as it should – than you should be all the more careful of when you give it."

"We didn't expect Murtagh to call us out on it, or for it to become necessary, not like this" Helena pouted unhappily.

"My point exactly," Hrothgar said and his brows furrowed. "The offer to join my clan is still open."

As Eragon wondered if he could be brazen enough to question the king's intentions, Helena went ahead and did it. "And what do you expect from us?" she asked and Eragon thought her tone was just on the wrong side of the curiosity/accusatory line.

Thankfully, Hrothgar didn't seem to mind. "I understand your suspicious, especially because it is warranted. I do have some ulterior motives. If the Riders are going to return, then I want my people to have a say and a voice in this new old power. Considering how you swore fealty to a human and will be trained by the elves, I don't think my desire to restore balance in unwarranted."

"But what do you expect?" Helena repeated, sounding more curious instead of tense now that Hrothgar was showing his hand.

"Hear, listen, and learn," the dwarf king answered cryptically. "Now go on; you have a long journey ahead of you. Give Orik your answer and he will take care of the rest."

xxxxxxxxxxx

After yet another unpleasant teleportation, they arrived at an underground road where Arya, Orik, Saphira, and Godric were waiting. Helena, being more used to the experience of her magical means of travel, managed to stay on her feet. Eragon, being unwilling to risk dragging his fellow rider to the ground in an attempt to stay upright, fell on his sides.

"I am glad you have arrived," Arya said blandly while Eragon was dragging his body from floor. It was clear she was still upset about the sharing of Rider secrets.

"Just a moment," Orik said. "Could you go on ahead Arya, we will catch up."

There was an uncomfortably long pause. Long enough for Eragon to pat his pants to remove the dirt. "Very well," the elf conceded. "I will go get Nasuada so we may properly say goodbye." She angled a surprisingly non-hostile look at Helena and Eragon; it was amazing how fast that women could switch between moods. "Don't feel too bad, Hrothgar did not leave you much choice." And with that, Arya started walking through the tunnel.

As soon as she was out of sight, though whether it was far enough to escape the elf's hearing was questionable, Orik addressed them. "I assume you have had some time to think about Hrothgar's offer. Contrary what Arya thinks, you do have a choice."

"Yes, and we have made it," Eragon said and shot a look at Helena, urging her to answer for them.

"We graciously accept joining Dûrgrimst Ingeitum," she said, and even managed to sound sincere. Eragon had always doubted Helena whenever she claimed she wasn't a good liar.

Orik nodded with approval and handed them a stone. "Whenever we dwarves – which you will now count as – wish to make a binding oath. We do it by wetting a Knurlnien, a heart of stone, with our blood and speaking the words."

Eragon really hoped no magic was involved here. It wasn't like they could turn back now without giving even more insult than if they had just refused from the beginning.

"What will this oath entail?" Eragon asked.

Orik started to list a bunch of obligations, none of which sounded too arduous, and many of them boiled down to helping their new kin whenever they needed help. Helping people in need was what they were supposed to do regardless.

Orik recited the words they needed to say in dwarvish, followed by their translation. Both Helena and Eragon cut their blood without objections, neither being very squeamish by this point. Both Riders immediately healed the small cut on their hands themselves. Eragon knew that Helena thought that it was better that she takes care of such small magics, since it didn't cost her any energy, but Eragon didn't want to grow too dependent on her.

At the end, Orik presented Eragon with a helm with the heraldry of the Dûrgrimst Ingeitum, a hammer surrounded by twelve stars and Helena received a necklace with the same symbol. Both also received a ring. "Ha! Whatever the other clans may have to say about it, we are foster brother and sister now. How does it feel?"

"Are the other clans likely to object?" Eragon asked, not answering Orik's own question. He agreed and managed to convince Helena to agree specifically to avoid troubles.

"Some might," Orik shrugged. "But only Hrothgar has a say in who gets adopted into our clan. Anyway, you have both acted admirably and with respect, not even counting your service in defending our city. You are worthy, and we will defend you and your honor now as we would our own."

"I confess that it wasn't an easy decision for me," Helena said carefully, "but I will try to make sure none of us come to regret this."

"Just keep doing as you have been, and all will be fine," Orik reassured. "Normally we would have a feast to commemorate this grand occasion, but events move too swiftly for us to tarry. Celebrations will come later, but I assure you, they will come. Honor demands it."

"Honor demands we have a party," Helena commented wryly.

"Of course! Something to recognize the significance of this occasion; this has never happened before, after all."

That sounded good to Eragon, and judging by her smile, Helena agreed. "Well I will look forward to it. I missed the last feast, after all."

Nasuada must have been waiting for a notice since it didn't take long for Arya to bring the black skinned woman to them. Judging by how labored her breathing was, the human must have run part of the way to keep up with the impatient elf.

Eragon wasn't worried about his liege's reaction to their handling of the dwarves. He had discussed the matter with Nasuada before he had even told Helena. Though it looked as if it pained her to admit it, Nasuada said that it was a good idea to accept, though the final decision was, of course, his. His and Helena's.

"I suppose I should reintroduce myself now," Helena grinned as she moved toward Nasuada. "Hello, my name Helena Potter Ingeitum."

"I guessed as much," Nasuada said, returning the grin. Those two had gotten along surprisingly quickly, Eragon reflected. He respected Nasuada a great deal, but he wasn't sure he could call her a friend yet; Helena did.

"It doesn't work like that," Orik interjected before both women could talk more. "A clan's name is not the same as a human family name or honor-name. You must not use it as such when introducing yourselves. You are Helena Potter of Dûrgrimst Ingeitum if you want to announce your association with us."

"Why?" Eragon asked. Considering Orik's firmness in corrected the small error, there must be more to it.

Orik seemed glad that he had asked. "Ingeitum was the honor name of the one who founded the clan. If you use it like Spell-master did, you would falsely claim yourself his descendant."

Eragon was about to ask who this first Ingeitum was, but Nasuada cut him off.

"As interesting as this is, we can't dally long." Her gaze seemed to focus on Helena. "Did your last mission go well?"

Helena hesitated a moment before replying. "We succeeded."

"What mission?" Orik asked curiously.

"A secret one," Nasuada answered the dwarf before either Eragon or Helena had a chance. She looked from Helena to Eragon. "The fewer people who know of it the better. Do not speak of it unless there is no choice."

Eragon was sure that Orik would be able to reason it out himself once he learned of Murtagh's escape, but Nasuada was probably right. The fewer people who knew, the better. Most would suspect, of course, but nobody would have proof so long as they, and Hrothgar, kept their mouths shut.

Orik huffed. "Great, now I will spend the next few months pulling my beard out, trying to guess at it instead."

"You have my sympathies," Nasuada said with a perfectly straight face. "Now, I have one more task for you," Nasuada pulled all scroll from the sleeves of her dress and presented it to Helena. "This is a missive for queen Islanzadi. It details all of my plans and a plea to reinitiate diplomatic contact. Arya has agreed to press our case, but I would like you to deliver this personally."

"Sounds easy enough." Helena took the scroll and sealed it in her magic pouch.

"Then all that is left is for me to wish you all well on your journey. Eragon, Helena, Saphira, Godric. Remember that you carry all our hopes with you, so acquit yourself well."

"We will do our best." "I always try to," Helena and Eragon replied respectively.

Satisfied that the goodbyes were over, Arya escorted Nasuada back towards wherever she came from. The elf assured them that shouldn't wait for her and that she would catch up to them soon enough.

And so began their journey through the mountain. Eragon was thankful it would only be for a short afternoon. If they were to travel solely over land, it would have made sense for them to traverse more of the underground passages, as that was shortest route through the Beor Mountains. However, because they were such a small group, it was decided that Saphira and Godric could fly them towards their destination, and so it made sense to reach the outside as soon as possible.

They walked in silence and Eragon was glad of it. The last few weeks had been hectic, moving from one problem to the next, and he welcomed the reprieve. A part of him couldn't help but see this new journey to the elves, and even the coming days of training, as a period of rest. Yes, he knew that it would be difficult, but they were unlikely to find any life threatening encounters within the isolated realm of the elves.

Of course, when he said they traveled in silence, that didn't mean there was no talking. Saphira was eager to share her excitement at feeling the wind again and he felt the same. They had flown in the empty void that surrounded Tronjheim, but that was different. Eragon's own enthusiasm was dimmed only by the knowledge that Arya would be flying with them.

Not that he had anything against Ayra, but flying with Saphira felt like a very intimate experience between Dragon and Rider and thinking of anyone accompanying them somehow lessened the experience.

It also gave him the chance to discuss something else that had been bothering him.

'What do you make of Helena giving away her fortune?'

'What do I make of it?' Saphira repeated and if she were human, Eragon imagined she'd be lifting an eyebrow. 'It seems sensible. As she mentioned herself, if we lose, she won't be able to enjoy it anyway.'

'Yes, but I was referring to what she said about not deserving it.'

'I believe what she said was that she hadn't earned it, which is true. Not that I don't think she doesn't deserve it, but earning and deserving are different things.'

'It's the same thing,' he replied sourly. 'Does that mean you agree with her?'

'This is about more than Helena's gold. This is you asking whether the concept of an inheritance is fair or not. Am I right?'

'I just don't get how she can be so callous about it.'

A short silence ensued as Saphira waited for him to answer her question. 'Yes, I suppose that is what I am asking.'

'Than the answer is no, it is not fair. A human child born into nobility is better off than that of a beggar. It is not fair, but few things are. Is it fair for the deer that I decide to eat it? Off course not, and I don't care. I find you humans' fixation on fairness odd, but I do not think it bad either.'

'It's just that inheritance is one of the oldest human traditions in the world. It was all but considered a sacred right in Carvahall.'

'Keep in mind that in this blood war Helena told us about, she was fighting against wizards who all thought they were better than everyone because of who their parents were. Maybe that has soured her on the subject?'

That set Eragon thinking. He hadn't connected Helena's dismissal of her own legacy with the conflicts in her past, but it seemed obvious in retrospect.

They left the mountains' dark halls when the sun was only a few hours away from setting, arriving at a small open plain, their shadows making long silhouettes on the grass more than twice their owners lengths. Arya took a long savoring breath from the outside air. Eragon understood; he had done the same not long ago when taking Murtagh outside. Tronjheim was magnificent, but it was also very strange without any wind or sun and the air tasted differently.

"We can rest here," Arya announced. "Tomorrow we can leave early and easily reach the edge of Du Weldenvarden within the third day."

"We should at least make brief stop in Tarnac," Orik chimed in. "There are things that my new kin need to know and see."

"Can't it wait?" It was clear from her tone that Arya already knew and dreaded the answer.

"I'm afraid I must insist."

"Very well," Ayra conceded reluctantly. "But we will stay no longer than two days, if that."

"I know that their training is more important," Orik said calmly. "That is why I can accept their induction in Ingeitum being such a rushed affair."

Seemingly as satisfied as she was going to be, Arya moved a little further away from their group to set up her tent.

"She is acting really strangely," Orik pondered out loud. Eragon would have asked why if it didn't look like Orik would elaborate on his own. "Elves aren't normally like this. They are one of the most patient beings in Alagaësia."

"She knows what's at stake and that time is both limited and valuable," Helena reasoned.

"And she has spent a large time away from her people. Perhaps she is simply eager to be home," Eragon pointed out. Homesickness he understood.

"She has been gone for a long time," Orik agreed, but he didn't sound sure.

Saphira let out an attention seeking growl. Eragon understood and smiled. "I think Saphira and I will go out and enjoy the last rays of sunlight together."

"Best idea I've heard all day," Helena enthused and ran towards Godric. She pointed her finger and levitating what few supplies had been secured to his saddle towards the ground.

"Just make sure that you can find your way back to this spot when it's dark," Orik warned.

"Will do," Eragon assured the dwarf, though he knew that would be more Saphira's job. She could see better in the dark, and her sense of direction was better than his.

After he had removed all but the saddle from Saphira's back he climbed on and found that Godric and Helena were already waiting for them. Saphira's excitement grew further; it had been too long since she had outflow her red counterpart.

No further talk was necessary as both Godric and Saphira fired themselves up into the air. They were rising so rapidly that Eragon had to swallow his spit in order to release the pressure in his ears. He also used a quick brisingr to shield himself from the cold. There were safer ways to warm oneself than with the magical word for 'fire', but Eragon found that any spell he used that included that word became easier for him.

Without talking about, it seemed the dragons had decided to play what Eragon liked to call 'back tag'. Both dragons would try to maneuver themselves so that they were close, above, and behind the other; the perfect space for a dragon to attack another dragon in the air. As the sun was low and red, they couldn't rely on the blinding light to hinder the opponent. There were a lot of clouds to hide in though.

Eragon used magic to make himself more waterproof. The first time Saphira had flown into a cloud, she had to hurry back down before her rider died of hypothermia. Eragon couldn't wait for winter to finally relinquish its hold on the land.

The view was, as always, spectacular. The dying rays of the sun fell on Saphira and Godric's scales, and even when there were no clouds behind them, the shadow of their silhouettes were outlined in orange light in the air. Eragon wished he could take a perfect memory of the sight and preserve it for all eternity.

The difference in skill between the two dragons had closed over time, but Saphira was still the better flyer. A fact that Eragon couldn't help but feel smug about.

The rules changed however when Helena, for the first time in these games, decided to take a more direct role in the contest. A sudden unexpected gusts of wind started to blow Saphira slightly off course and Godric seemed to enjoy a sudden updraft whenever he needed it most. It hadn't taken Saphira and Eragon long to notice what the other rider was doing.

'They are cheating!' Eragon shared his scandalized observation.

'Indeed!' Saphira sounded more excited than upset. 'This means I have finally won, if Godric admits to being outclassed without help.'

That was one way to look at it, Eragon reflected.

'And to be fair, in a real fight, there would be no question that Helena would be supporting Godric wherever and whenever she can. In a way, you could say that they have finally stopped holding back.'

'Do you want me to start using magic as well?' Eragon offered. He knew that Helena could use her powers more freely than him, but that didn't mean he shouldn't try. That and he could use the practice.

'No. I want to see if I can win like this. If it turns out I can't, I might ask for your help.'

From that moment on, the win rate between the two dragons reversed. Saphira was talented and had an instinctual understanding of the air currents, but those could now change at the 'enemy's' command. It was during this time that Eragon realized that there was a lot more to a dragon's ability to fly than the wind or the wings. It should have been obvious in retrospect, but somehow it wasn't. As a hunter, Eragon had shot more than a few birds out of the sky to carry back to his family in Carvahall, and he knew how light they were. A dragon should be far too heavy to fly. It was when Saphira was stubbornly trying to fly against a current of wind that had been sent against them like a fish swimming up a current and still move forward that it became glaringly obvious that magic had to be involved somehow. Yes, Eragon had seen birds fly against the wind before, but this was ridiculous. That particular feat of strength had been the cause of one of Saphira's very few wins from the moment that Godric and Helena upped their game.

Eragon was both impressed and envious of the speed and precision with which Helena was able to manipulate the wind. That dimmed, however, when the dragons landed and Eragon saw the slitted pupils in Helena's green eyes.

"It was Godric, wasn't it?" He guessed.

"He knows the winds and how they should and can move better than I ever will," Helena shrugged as the shape of her pupils returned to normal. "I had the power, but Godric decided how to use it. He acted through me."

The sun had set bellow the horizon and sky was now a very dark blue and only getting darker. The dragons had landed near a small river. The water flowed fast over several small rocky waterfalls. Both dragons left to give their humans the illusion of privacy. As they were always deeply connected with their partner, true privacy was rare for them. Eragon summoned a blue fire into existence, both for heat and light. Helena did the same with red flame. Together they casted the area in an eerie light of red, blue and purple.

"I am glad I came here," Helena said suddenly as she looked around herself, looking dazed.

"to Alagaësia you mean," Eragon guessed. "It is quite beautiful."

"I suppose," Helena mumbled and Eragon suspected his guess was of the mark.

A second reason soon presented itself and it sent a thrill through him as thought of it. "And you met me here," he said smugly.

"That too," Helena smirked wryly.

So not that either. "Why else are you glad to be here?"

"Godric for one," Helena answered immediately.

"Of course," Eragon agreed. That should have been the most obvious answer.

"And–" Helena tried to continue, but the words seemed to get stuck in her throat. "I don't know. I guess the flying must have been particularly awesome this time."

"I see. . ." They were alone, had no pressing matters to attend to, Helena seemed to be in a contemplative mood, and it was just late enough that they were relaxed instead of tired. Eragon didn't think he would get a better chance than this.

"Helena, do you really think you didn't deserve your inheritance?"

Helena acknowledged his question with 'huh?' and thought it over for a few seconds. "I have never really thought about it much. But it has never meant much to me."

"Isn't it– I don't know – a valuable memento of some kind?"

"I had mementos. My invisibility cloak, for one. And I had pictures. The money. . . " A sigh. "It was never important. I didn't grow up wealthy and I kept my frugal habits for the most part. It wasn't that useful in solving most of my important problems, so why care?"

"So, it was just the money you didn't care for? You don't have anything against inheritance in general."

"You read a lot into my gesture of charity, didn't you?" Helena smiled at him. "I suppose I don't. It is more. . . entitlement that I have a problem with. But maybe. . .? It does seem a little unfair, doesn't it? That some are better off because their parents were rich?"

"Unfair to whom?" Eragon asked rhetorically. "The right of inheritance is as much for, if not more so, for the parent as for the child. A person deserves to have a say in what happens with their wealth after they are gone. It is natural to use that wealth to make sure their kin are taken care off."

"I suppose I can't argue with that," Helena conceded. "But I have seen a lot of people think they are better than anyone else because of whom their parents are. It is a danger."

Eragon had prepared another question to ask and he hoped that his fellow Rider wouldn't be upset at this line of questioning. "Helena, do you think that, perhaps, you are still fighting the last war?"

Black eyebrows rose into her brow and she looked at him with wide surprised eyes. "What brought this on?" A short pause; too short for Eragon to think of an answer before Helena continued. "Only in the broadest of strokes. If you squint a lot. There is still a big immortal evil villain that needs to be defeated."

"I think that, maybe, you are still fighting against the ideals that your enemies stood for?"

"I'll never believe that someone is better or worse based on who their parents are and will argue fiercely against anyone who thinks so." She looked at him challengingly. "You don't think so, do you?"

"No," he was quick to answer, taking a step back and raising a calming hand. "But I do think there is some value in looking to where we come from and taking pride in it."

"A slippery slope that."

"Perhaps, but one I believe in. You and I have unwittingly inherited the legacy of a several millennia old order who safeguarded the world for all of that time."

"Is this still about my giving away Rider secrets?" Helena asked, luckily sounding more puzzled than hostile.

"In part," Eragon admitted. "Their traditions kept the world safe for countless generation. I just think that is worth respecting."

"So we shouldn't question?"

"Is that a serious question?" Eragon asked wryly. "Remember who you are talking to." And he was rewarded with a chuckle. "All I am saying is that there is no need to throw it all away and start over from nothing. There is no need to reach for the sky by ourselves when we stand on the shoulders of giants."

Helena looked to be weighing his words in her mind, rubbing the bottom of her lips thoughtfully before grimacing. "Your words ring true, but. . . I am sorry. I spend my teenage years fighting against the outdated traditions of the entitled and the cruel. It has never been my friend."

"Yet we are fighting Galbatorix so we can restore what once was."

"Is that why we are fighting? I thought it was to free Alagaësia from Galbatorix."

"And what do you think they we will do once Alagaësia is free? The old royal line will be restored or a new line will be established. It's how we have always done things and it is how it will be again. Are you okay with that?"

"Do I have a choice," Helena grumbled. "I am not about to enforce my will by force, if that is what you are implying."

"I didn't think you would," he was quick to assured.

"You better not. That doesn't mean I will keep quiet if my opinion is asked."

"Fair enough. Just be prepared when it doesn't go according your wishes. We are our own people."

"Lovely," she bristled, coolly sarcastic. "I don't want to talk about this anymore."

That was probably for the best, Eragon reflected. It was high time to change the subject to something less tense. He looked around himself at the still magically illuminated forest. "The night has an eerie beauty to it."

"It is certainly peaceful," Helena agreed, "and a welcome reprieve."

After a moment, Helena sat herself down on the ground, unconcerned about dirtying the long robes she was wearing. She held a hand into the stream of water that flowing down the rocks. Her hand started to glow softly.

"What are you doing?"

"Just seeing if I can warm the water." Her featured pulled into a concentrated frown. "That it is flowing so fast makes it harder."

Eragon moved himself to the other side of the stream, careful not to slip on the wet rocks. He squatted down on the ground and felt the water a little downstream from where Helena's hand was glowing. Despite the night's cold, the water felt lukewarm and getting warmer, with translucent white vapor slowly rising upwards.

Helena removed her large leather boots and socks and dipped her bare feet in the now warm stream. The contented look on her face convinced Eragon to do the same.

This was the true wonder of magic, Eragon reflected. Not the curses, the flinging of lightning and fire. But the simple freedom of being able to do what would otherwise be impossible. Flying was one such activity and this was another. Here they were, tipping their naked feet in a river in the beginning of March. If they had been two normal humans, their stupidity would have seen them bedridden for days. Nature had always been man's best friend and worst enemy combined, and there was a joy being able to enjoy it now without fear of consequence.

They sat there in comfortable silence. Simply enjoying the feel of warm water beating against their skin and listening to the sounds of the forest. The chirping of crickets were the most prevalent sound along with the rustling of leaves in the wind, but occasionally they heard an owl and even a few wolves howl in the distance. Wolves were yet another used-to-be-dangerous to him. Even if he couldn't call upon a protective dragon, a simple burst of fire would see them running in fear.

Eventually they did start talking. Helena shared some of her experience directly after arriving in Teirm. Eragon already knew most of it, but this time she shared more of her personal feelings and opinions about the events.

"I am surprised you and Helen got along. Joed's wife seemed like the entitled sort, and you hate that."

"I dislike that sort of entitlement, true, but that doesn't mean I hate all who feel it. Nasuada for example felt entitled to her father's position after his death, and she and I get along just fine. It's not their fault they grew up with such values. As to me and Helen. . . she needed someone to talk to and I was desperate for conversation with another human."

"Teirm was the busiest place I had ever been to. With so many people, how could you be starving for conversation."

"You can be surrounded by people, and still feel lonely, but I see your point. I could have gone to the tavern or the market and found plenty willing to talk, and sometimes I did just that, but they were. . ." She looked away, embarrassed.

"They were what?"

Helena bit the corner of lip. "Promise you won't get angry?"

"I promise."

Helena spoke quietly as if imparting some scandalous secret. "They looked and smelled dirty."

Eragon understood why she was worried about him getting upset. All peasants – which he was and still felt like – were less concerned about personal hygiene than the likes of Jeod, Nasuada, or any other that grew up amongst the upper class. Helena was a special case since her world held to a different norm. He himself had only started to bathe more after Helena had joined him and Brom. The new addition to their group had soon started to drop some subtle hints that he should take better care of himself. Eragon, desperate at the time to do anything to please their new female companion, had been quick to comply, especially after Brom complemented him on the new habit.

Eragon couldn't muster any annoyance at her grievance with his own class of people. The way Helena was staring at the ground in obvious shame and embarrassment prevented any such thing. The red light still coming from her hand made her blushing all the more noticeable.

"I know it's unfair of me," Helena excused herself without prompting. "I just can't help it."

"It's alright, I am not upset," Eragon reassured, more amused than anything. The way she was so obviously mortification at her own poshishness was endearing.

Visibly relieved, Helena went back to her earlier point. "There was also the fact that Helen liked to talk more about herself than ask me question about myself. It saved me trying to find excuses not to answer questions or come up with a believable story."

"What was it again? You fled from a forced marriage in Reavstone, stowing away on ship after you escaped a dungeon?" Eragon asked, still feeling rather amused. "Did you try that on other people too?"

"No, that one was especially for you sweetie," she teased. "Mostly I kept quiet and allowed people to make up their own theories. Theories that I deliberately never corrected. Most people did guess that I was from Surda, so I made an effort to read the basics about that land so I could play the part."

At that point, Saphira informed him that Arya wanted them to return. They did so without complaint, drying their skins with magic. Eragon didn't mind leaving this spot, it was better to cut these moments of peace short than allow them to become boring on their own.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

They prepared to leave at the first sign of dawn the next day. Arya would ride with him on Saphira while Orik would ride with Helena and Godric. The poor dwarf already looked green at the prospect.

"I know it seems daunting, but it is an amazing experience," Helena tried to assure him.

"Barzul! You do not need to coddle me, women. I am not afraid of a little height." Orik snapped back at her, but, contrary to his words, there was more fear in his voice than anger.

"Of course you're not," Helena indulged him, while smiling mischievously. "Why would you ever be afraid of flying. Nothing solid to grab onto for miles in either direction."

Godric continued. 'Looking down and imagining yourself plummeting the immense distance in seconds as the earth grows larger and larger to welcome you back into its embrace.'

Saphira decided to join in. 'Being carried and shaken by the wind like a leaf. Like an earthquake without end.'

We are all terrible people, Eragon concluded and decided to contribute. "And looking up into sky around, you notice endless clouds and stars, swirling around you. The dizziness making your grip on the saddle grow lax as you slowly lose yourself into the endless–"

"Enough!" Orik bellowed in an embarrassingly high pitched voice. He had grabbed his axe and was waving it about threateningly. "I'll gut all of you if you don't shut it!."

They all had a chuckle at the dwarf's expense. Even Arya cracked a smile.

Helena tried to school her features with limited results. "Seriously though, you have nothing to worry about. Even if you fall, which you won't, I could catch you before you reach the ground. You couldn't kill yourself even if you tried."

"Let's just get this over with," Orik said, mostly managing to sound firm and stoic. It would have been more effective if it wasn't for his earlier outburst.

Nobody was calling him out on it, however, and Helena helped the dwarf climb unto Godric.

Unlike Orik, Arya seemed eager to fly. In the periphery of his mind, Eragon was aware of Arya thanking Saphira for the privilege. He wasn't deeply connected with Saphira at the moment, but in these calm moments, he could still get a general feel of her.

After Eragon had seated himself, Arya climbed the rough scales of Saphira's hide as easy as if she were climbing some stairs and sat herself behind him. She placed her hands on his shoulders for extra support.

The saddle wasn't built for two, however, and it took some time for her to safely secure herself. "Often I have dreamed about one day soaring through the air on a dragon; like many of my people I expect."

"Were you hoping that Saphira would choose you when you carried her for all those years?" Eragon asked.

"In the beginning, yes," Arya admitted. "After a few months however, it became obvious that she was searching for someone else. Once I realized that, I simply wanted to make sure we found that someone."

'And I am grateful for your efforts,' Saphira chimed in. 'There lies great potential within Eragon, though even he doesn't realize it yet.'

There was some chastisement in Saphira's tone. It was true that Eragon still had trouble believing that out of all the people in Alagaësia, he was the one most fit to carry this duty and honor. Especially in comparison to someone like Helena, to whom magic seemed as easy as breathing. The battle of Farthen Dûr hadn't done anything to dissuade him of this notion. He hadn't shamed himself, but he hadn't excelled either. He tried not to dwell on it too much, though. Saphira seemed to take his doubting of himself as a personal insult.

But now that Saphira had brought it up, he had no choice but to acknowledge it.

'I will realize it as soon as I prove it.'

'My word isn't enough?'

'Not in this Saphira, I am sorry,' His mental voice was both fond and sad. 'But I am grateful for it all the same.'

'Then I will wait.'

And with those words, Saphira took two large leaps over the ground before jumping into the air. As Eragon was surprised to hear the elf behind him suddenly bursting into delighted laughter. It was a beautiful sound, he had to admit.

Soon the trees of the forest were nothing more than green dots like individual strands of a carpet. It wouldn't be a long flight, Eragon knew. Tarnac was less than two days walking from their position, which meant that a dragon could reach it in less than an hour.

"So how angry are you about Trianna?" Eragon asked after a few minutes.

It took a long time for Arya to answer. Eragon was about to ask again when she finally did. "It was anger born of disappointment; I try not to dwell on it. But it is not I that you will need to answer to."

"Queen Islanzadi?" Eragon guessed.

"No." There was a definite hint of amusement in her tone. "You will learn all in good time, don't worry."

With some effort, Eragon managed to restrain himself from asking about this mysterious person. He knew he wouldn't get a straight answer anyway.

"When we reach Tarnag, you have to be careful," Arya warned him suddenly. "Word of our victory over Durza will have reached these dwarves, but they weren't there. Not only that, but these dwarves who prefer to live in outdoor cities suffered the most under the Forswarn's depredations."

"So we shouldn't land in the middle of the market without warning?"

"No. Definitely not."

"Have you ever been to Tarnag?"

"It is on the way between Tronjheim and Ellesméra. So yes, I visited often, unfortunately."

"Unfortunately?"

"You will understand once you visited Celbediel, the great cathedral of the dwarven people. At least I hope you will understand."

"More vagueness," Eragon complained before he could stop himself.

Fortunately, Arya didn't seem annoyed. "Just don't accept everything they tell you without question."

Emboldened by the elves willingness to talk, he pressed his luck. "Is there anything else you can tell me about Tarnag?"

"There is not much I can say that you won't see for yourself once we arrive. It used to be the most populous city of the dwarven cities before it was abandoned and most dwarves fled underground. Once word of Morzan's death spread, however, the people returned quickly."

"I thought that Tronjheim needed supplies from the outside if it was to survive. How did they last if all the dwarves fled underground?"

"I said that most dwarves fled underground," Arya pointed out, and explained further. "One of their clans in particular, Dûrgrimst Feldûnost, never fled the surface. They risked being hunted by the forsworn to plant crops and tend the herds so their people could survive. To their credit, the dwarven people give them the respect they deserve for their courage and sacrifice. One does not need to swing a sword to be a hero, Eragon. Remember that."

Eragon didn't have much more opportunity to question the elf. The sun was still low on the horizons when they found Tarnag. Tronjheim had inured him to other marvels of engineering since none could ever compete, yet Eragon still found himself enjoying the sight. Several large terraces had been carved out of the mountain's surface, the lowest of which bordered a lake that was as wide as Leona lake, if not as long. The small buildings and streets were built of different colors of rock, giving the city a very lively look. Eragon was reminded of Tierm and how each level of buildings grew taller the deeper you went into the city, allowing defenders to shoot from the rooms without fear of friendly fire. Tarnag could do the same with its terraces and had even better natural defenses. One could only approach the city from two roads that ran close to the lake on either side.

Unless you were on a dragon, of course. In the event of an attack from the air, the dwarves would likely flee into the mountain. Eragon was sure the dwarves had prepared for such an event. If they could make something like Tronjheim, then Eragon didn't doubt they would have at least built some escape tunnels here.

Unlike Tierm, however, Tarnag didn't feel as. . . martial was the right word. Perhaps it were the bright colors or perhaps it was the lack of large walls surrounding the city. The only walls were at the uppermost terrace, surrounding what Eragon was sure had to be Celbediel. As impressive as the domed building was, Eragon had grown used to those and the sight of the precious metals adoring its walls. His sight was instead drawn to the large gardens that surrounded it almost like a maze and the fields of grain that belted the cities outer layer that reminded him of home.

It was good to be outside again.

Helena contacted him. 'Orik asks us to land near the lakeshore. It will give the city time to respond to our arrival.'

They did so. Godric had clearly missed cleaning himself in water, judging by the way he landed with his paws submerged in the lake. Once Helena and Orik dismounted – the dwarf complaining about getting wet – Godric decided to go deeper into the lake.

"I am surprised he is willing to leave you alone at this time," Eragon said once Helena and Orik got close enough.

"Orik convinced him it would be better to warn everyone first. Godric apparently bears a remarkable resemblance to Morzan's dragon who hunted them and drove them from their homes."

"Ah," was all Eragon had to say to that.

"He also really likes to eat fish, and this is his chance to go hunting for them."

'I can't say I have ever tried them. They seem too small to be filling and are faster in the water than I am. Seems like too much trouble for little gain,' Saphira commented, looking over the lake and the ripples Godric was causing on its surface with his diving.

"He used to be able to sate himself with fish for a while when he was small, but now I think he sees them more like candy than an actual meal."

They could already see their welcoming party approaching from the city. A group of dwarves in small enough numbers to be unthreatening. They were riding an animal that Eragon had never seen before; some strange mix between a horse and a goat with horns that could make a Kull envious and legs that were unusually short for a such large beasts. Eragon doubted they could run very fast with those.

It took the mounted dwarves long enough to travel the distance that Orik had time to explain that the strange beasts were called Feldûnost, one of five animals unique to the Beor Mountains and the beast the Feldûnost clan was of course named after. Orik briefly described the other unique animals that roamed the mountain valley, like giant wolves and bears. Eragon wasn't so sure anymore that he could have protected himself from the wolves that were howling last night with a simple fire spell.

One of the mounted dwarfs separated from the rest and rode out to meet them. Eragon was impressed by the Feldûnost's lack of cowering in the face of Saphira; only staring at the apex predator with an unblinking gaze. Even Snowfire had needed time to get used to her.

'More foolishness than courage if you ask me,' Saphira scoffed within his mind, obviously irritated at the lack of fear that was coming from the domesticated animals.

Orik and the new arrival exchanged what Eragon assumed were greetings. Since they spoke dwarvish, he understood nothing of it. I really should learn that language, he decided. According to Helena, the language of the dwarves sounded similar to another language from her homeland called 'German'. He tried to pay more attention to the conversation when he heard his and Helena's name being dropped. Despite not knowing the words, the mention of the Ingeitum clan alongside their names allowed Eragon to guess what they were talking about.

Considering the other dwarf's frown, he wasn't happy with the arrangement. A string of more dwarvish words followed. By watching Orik's stubborn expression and the messenger's worried one, Eragon once again guessed at the general meaning of the conversation.

'I hope accepting Hrothgar's offer won't create more problems than it prevents,' Eragon shared his worry with Saphira.

'Then make sure we don't stay here longer than necessary,' Saphira advice.

That was probably a good idea, and what they had planned beforehand, but Eragon was disappointed he wouldn't be able to explore this new location. He suspected that Tronjheim wasn't a good representation of what the dwarven people were like as a whole. Tarnag might be.

It seemed that Orik and the messenger had finally finished their discussion. The mounted dwarf now turned to address the rest of their party in the common tongue. As polite and formal as possible, the dwarf - Thorv, son of Brokk – welcomed them into the city on behalf of its leaders; Ûndin and Gannel.

"I have been made aware of your unique situation," Thorv said once they had all formally accepted the offer of hospitality. "And must ask that you do not advertise your membership of Dûrgrimst Ingeitum."

"That is not something that could, or indeed should, be hidden," Orik grumbled.

"There are. . . elements within Tarnag that would not accept such a– unprecedented event. Some would challenge its legality," Thorv offered delicately.

"Then we will meet such challenges head on," Orik declared boldly.

Well that just wouldn't do. "We did not come here to start a fight," Eragon objected. "I will defend myself from any challenge, but I see no reason why we should provoke one if it can so easily be avoided."

"I agree," Helena said, removing the necklace that Orik had given her yesterday.

"I don't like this," Orik groused. "They should see you as who you are now, one of us."

If only it were so easy my friend. "Your opinion and that of Hrothgar is the one that matters here. Regardless of what others think or know, we are brothers now." Saying the words now somehow made it more real than his oath back in Tronjheim. "I don't need to prove that to anyone else."

"Aye," Orik sighed, but he couldn't hide the smile under his beard. "Maybe you have a point. But we must inform Ûndin and Gannel. It would be grave insult to keep this from them."

"Excellent," Thorv nodded in approval.

'That was well done, little one,' Saphira complemented.

"Before we continue there is one other matter," Helena interjected delicately, tilting her head so she looked over the lake. On cue, Godric jumped out of the water in all his scary red scaled glory. Even from over twenty yards away, Eragon still felt a few drops of water landing on his skin from to splash he made. The Feldûnosts that the dwarves were riding all jerked in dismay, but their riders managed to calm them remarkably quickly.

Godric landed on Helena's side, sending a shock through the earths as dragons most often did when landing. Godric's rider casually pointed to him as if he hadn't just deliberately made a dramatic entrance. "Will this be a problem?"

'Show offs, the both of them,' Saphira huffed. Eragon managed to refrain from snorting in amusement at his dragon's hypocrisy.

"I hope it won't be, Rider, but our people have long memories," Thorv said, sounding apologetic about it.

"They do realize that Godric has never done anything to them right? They just look similar. Would they also hate everyone that has heterochromia?"

Heterochromia, Eragon knew from the legends surrounding Morzan, was a word that referred to a person having two different eye colors like Morzan was reputed to have had.

"Probably yes; it is considered a bad omen," Throv said dryly.

By her pinched expression, it was obvious that Helena was trying very hard to not to say anything about just how stupid she thought they were being.

"You will be fine," Thorv tried to reassure her. "Even if some won't be pleased, none will be fool enough to try anything. If they do, they will have to answer to us."

'And me,' Godric's voice rumbled through all their minds, the threat in it obvious.

Eragon felt exasperated by the whole situation. They were trying to stay out of trouble!

'True though that may be, I agree with Godric in this. If they are both hateful and fool enough to attack us they only have themselves to blame,' Saphira commented.

Eragon didn't argue with that. He just hoped it wouldn't come to that.

Remembering how well their first introduction to the people of Tronjheim went, Eragon decided he wanted to ride into Tarnag on top of Saphira. In the small chance that something went wrong, it would make it easier to get away. He was glad that Helena did the same with Godric. The red dragon had already proven once that he was willing to flee if it meant keeping his rider safe. Granted, in this instance his concern was for the people of Tarnag and not Helena or her dragon.

Spirits, was this what their life would be like from now on? Always on their guard, never feeling completely safe? For a short moment he could understand why he might one day leave Alagaësia as Angela predicted. An image of just taking Helena and leave all this trouble to live in peace somewhere else entered his mind, but he dismissed it as soon as it appeared. It was a pleasant thought, but as Brom said, Galbatorix would find them eventually. Besides, Alagaësia was home.

Thankfully, for once it seemed their paranoia was unfounded. While some dwarves they passed on their march through the streets of Tarnag seemed nervous, most bowed respectfully. Or at least politely ignored them. The children they passed gaped at them and pulled at their mother's skirts, speaking rapidly in dwarvish. Soon Eragon's trepidation of possible trouble evaporated and he found himself once again regretting that he wouldn't have the chance to go exploring.

His expectation that Tarnag would give him a better feel for the dwarven people had been correct. Tronjheim had been as much a more a work of art as it had been a city. It was how the dwarves wanted to be seen, but Tarnag showed what they really were.

Tarnag wasn't all that different from Teirm or Dras-Leona, not counting the outer slums. It surprised him how similar it all was, but in hindsight he shouldn't have been. Both humans and dwarves worked towards optimization, if only so they didn't have to do more work than they had too. So it was natural that they arrived at the same conclusions. There were only a few noticeable differences. The most obvious one was the size of everything. Tronjheim had been built as if the dwarves were compensating for something. The buildings of Tarnac on the other hand were built to the size of its inhabitants, almost half as short as their human equivalent. It made Eragon feel distinctly out of place like he hadn't been in Tronjheim.

The second difference was that Tarnac felt a lot more. . . healthy than even Teirm did, which was the best human city Eragon could think of. The streets were better kept and the air smelled less like refuse. There was more space dedicated to works of art. Even the most humble of abodes had at least a few carvings of something or other, or a small sculpture near their doorstep. It gave the impression of a people who had more time to devote to leisure, rather than pure survival.

It reassured Eragon to see such prosperity in the lands outside of Galbatorix's control. It hinted that Murtagh had been wrong when he declared the Varden's war against Galbatorix meaningless and that nothing would really change even if they were successful.

'We cannot be sure that Galbatorix is the reason for Teirm's limitations in comparison to Tarnag.' It was clear that Saphira made argument only with great reluctance.

'Even if that is so, this still gives me hope for my own people.' Perhaps when this was done he could return here and learn what Tarnag and the dwarves were doing better than the humans?

Thorv and his other mounted dwarves herded them deeper and higher up into the city. Eragon was glad he was sitting on Saphira's back as he didn't relish climbing that high a distance on his feet. Arya was the only one on foot. She had politely refused the offer of a Feldûnost mount. Of course she didn't show a hint of tiredness. Eragon had stopped being surprised at the elf's unnatural fitness after the battle of Farthen Dûr.

They arrived at a grand walled courtyard filled with three large empty banquet tables. Eragon suspected that whomever was in charge had chosen to meet them in a courtyard since few of the buildings – save Celebediel – looked large enough to comfortably hold the humans and elf, let alone dragons.

Standing in the center of the group, obviously waiting for their arrival, stood dozens of dwarves. Two of them stood slightly in front of the rest and looked more important than their fellows. One was a grey-beard in a wolvesskin so large it draped over the floor and the other was a younger man with sharp hooded eyes and a warriors build. Eragon only took a moment to guess at their identity and it was proven correct the next moment when the grey-beard stepped forward.

At first glance he looked genuinely pleased to see them. "I, Ûndin son of Derûnd and clan chief, welcome you to Tarnag, home of Dûrgrimst Ragni Hefthyn. We have heard only good things said about you, Helena Spell-master, Arya Shadeslayer, and Eragon the Second." Eragon blinked at his own moniker. "Your achievements in Farthen dûr are known and we are pleased to see you here."

The other more youthful dwarf's eyebrows seemed to twitch and his eyes shot in Arya's direction before settling back on the Riders. Eragon wanted to look at his companions to see if something was wrong, but he was too tense and too worried about being rude to look away from his hosts.

"And I am Gannel, son of Orm Blood-ax and clan chief of Dûrgrimst Quan." The younger dwarf said. Young being relative as he still looked older than Orik.

"I am glad to be here, clan chief," Helena smiled. "I would like to introduce you to my bonded, Godric." The red dragon growled in greeting. Eragon hoped that the dwarves hadn't spent enough time around dragon's to realize that this was a 'dismissive' growl instead of an acknowledging one.

Still, Eragon shared Helena's wish that their dragons not be ignored and was happy to play along. "We are both honored to be your guests. This is Saphira, I am her human."

That earned him a short snicker from Helena and a chuckle from most of the others. Saphira moved her head next to his body in greeting.

"Of course," Gannel smiled in good humor. "They are magnificent creatures."

Eragon didn't like the wording but didn't say anything. He almost wished Gannel had used 'beasts' instead of 'creatures', since it would have given him a chance to object. As it was, 'creature' was just ambiguous enough to refer to anything, even though he doubted Gannel saw them as being as intelligent as people.

'As intelligent as people? I do believe I am insulted.' Saphira commented drolly, but Eragon knew she was pleased at his annoyance on her behalf.

Orik stepped forward and greeted Ûndin with a surprisingly familiar handshake. "I have a missive from Hrothgar." He produced a sealed scroll from his sleeves and presented it.

Ûndin's eyes scanned over the paper, his face betraying no emotion, before giving the letter to Gannel to read.

"Interesting," Gannel mused, eyes still on the paper.

"And potentially dangerous," Ûndin cautioned his fellow dwarf before turning to his quests. "What do you know of Az Sweldn rak Anhûin."

"Never heard of it," Helena said. She looked at Eragon and he shook his head.

"Not it, them. And it is a sad thing that you have never heard the name. They were once one of our oldest and richest clans. Their wealth came from their association and trade with humans and elves. They were staunch allies of the Riders. If a human knew of any clan, it was this one, though they went by a different name then."

"What happened?" Eragon asked.

"When Galbatorix started his war, they threw their support behind Vrael, both in wealth and manpower. When Galbatorix killed Vrael on top of Utgard mountain, the forsworn were sent to hunt down any of his remaining supporters. Most of the soldiers that Vrael had been able to rally to his cause were slaughtered. Az Sweldn rak Anhûin lived on the western side of the Beor Mountains, close to the human settlements, and so they were easy to find. When the dust settled, only a handful of them were left. Anhûin, the wife of the previous Grimstborith, who had lost both her husband and all her children to the fighting, was driven mad by grief. She blamed both Galbatorix and Vrael in equal measure. She soon died of grief and her guards swore revenge, taking the name Az Sweldn rak Anhûin – the tears of Anhûin – to remind themselves of their purpose.

"Why would they blame Vrael?" Helena asked incredulously. "Shouldn't they want to help us against Gablatorix? He is responsible."

"They question Vrael's leadership, and blame their loss on his incompetence. I don't know if you are aware of this, but he actually defeated Galbatorix when they first fought in Doru Araeba, home of the Riders. Yet for some reason, whether through mercy or weakness, Vrael couldn't bring himself to slay Gablatorix. They hate Galbatorix, make no mistake, but they see Vrael's hesitance on that crucial moment as an insult to all those who died fighting against the oath-breaker and his minions."

Eragon was glad Murtagh wasn't here to hear this. The young rider could imagine Murtagh scoffing in cynical amusement at Vrael's weakness and the very concept of showing mercy to one's enemies.

"But aren't we trying to avenge them?" Helena wondered.

"You didn't so much as know they existed until a few minutes ago," Ûndin reminded her. "Your actions may avenge them, but you are not doing it for them."

"We may now," Eragon said. "Whatever their feelings now, we, the riders, own them a debt for past service and sacrifice. Is there any way we would prove ourselves to them."

"I like to think it isn't impossible, but it would take years. . . and perhaps a different Grimstborg to take over that clan. For now, it is best if you avoid provoking them by minimizing contact. They don't have the resources anymore to really help us, even if they were willing."

Eragon didn't like it, but he also couldn't disagree. They had more important things to do. He wouldn't forget though.

"Above all else, they can't learn of your induction in Dûrgrimst Ingeitum. They wouldn't see it as being earned by your achievements, but as Hrothgar showering you with undeserved honors and rewards so he can court your support."

Which might not be that far from the truth. "I doubt we can keep it a secret forever."

"And it shouldn't be a secret for long," Orik said sharply. "It is something to be proud of. I know they will do us proud."

"But let us wait until you and your group have entered Ellesméra before we announce it. It will give tempers time to cool down."

"Or they would act out their attacks with more cunning and care," Arya pointed out. "There are advantages in calling out one's enemies. Few would dare associate with them if they openly set themselves against the last hope for Alagaësia."

"If there is a way to avoid a fight, we will take it," Eragon asserted. "They were friends to the Riders once, and their current animosity is partly our responsibility. Perhaps we can make amends somehow, once we have the time."

By the odd way Helena looked at him with a raised eyebrow it was clear that she was skeptical about his reasoning. But after a moment she hummed thoughtfully. "I suppose if we can save them from themselves, we should."

Ûndin grunted. "Well, whatever you decide, it is best you leave tomorrow evening or the morning after that."

Eragon opened his mouth, to answer but someone beat him to it.

"We would not intrude upon your hospitality any longer than necessary," Arya answered for them with an empty smile.

"You are not intruding," Ûndin said sharply. "If circumstances were different. . ." he shook his head. "It's pointless to dwell. I hope you will return once the war is over so we may properly show you the wonders of Tarnag."

"I would love that," Eragon said before Arya had a chance to answer for them again. Eragon hoped she was just really eager to return home and didn't really dislike this place that much.

Gannel took the word. "Then tomorrow I will take you to Celbediel to teach you as much of our history and customs as I can in a single day. It won't be enough, but it will have to do."

"Why not just start today?" Helena wondered. "It is not like we have anything better to do."

Ûndin bellowed a laugh. "Because today we celebrate and give you a proper welcome. You are heroes after all."

"Great," Helena breathed out, smiling. "I wish I could have attended the one back in Tronjheim."

"How formal of an affair will this be?" Arya asked.

"Many important citizens are eager to meet you."

Helena's smile dropped like a stone.

"Won't Az Sweldn rak Anhûin use this as an opportunity to get the measure of the Riders?" Arya asked.

"They won't be able to issue any challenge when they are guests under my invitation. They will have naught but insults as their weapons. So long as you do no more than greet any of their members with a polite smile, I doubt anything will go amiss. If we don't introduce you under controlled conditions, Az Sweldn rak Anhûin might seek you out for themselves. You can't avoid them entirely as they have no doubt heard of your arrival."

'And here I thought we would be able to visit a city without you running the risk of getting stabbed,' Saphira murmured within Eragon's mind. 'How silly of me.'

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

This really isn't that bad, Eragon reflected as he shook hands and exchanged pleasantries with yet another merchant dwarf who wanted to make sure that Eragon knew just how much his supplies and wealth had supported the Varden over the years. Granted, it wasn't fun exactly, but he had expected worse from Helena's reaction. Some of it was even interesting. It gave him a better idea of how the Varden had survived without lands of their own and a better appreciation of how much they owned the dwarven people for sheltering them all these years.

And Ûndin didn't just throw him to the wolves without help. The dwarven clan leader always made sure he was nearby in case Eragon encountered a situation he couldn't handle.

The food was magnificent, and if the parade of well-wishers and sycophants became too tiresome he was allowed to excuse himself and retreat to the dining table and talk to Helena or Orik. He had only tried to talk to Arya once this evening and she didn't drop the obviously fake smile she had been wearing since the party started, even for him. She had already managed to disappear from the festivities, somehow, though Eragon had been told it was rude for a guest to leave too early.

Seeing that Helena was currently seated at the corner of the table, absently poking a salad and looking a little lonely, he decided to join her. Ûndin, through some social convention that Eragon didn't understand, had made sure that only the guests were allowed within four seats of that spot on the table. Excepting Gannel and Ûndin themselves, of course.

"Are you alright?" he asked as he sat himself next to her. The smell of the giant half-eaten roasted boar assaulted his senses as soon as he came within three yards of it. Eragon found himself wishing that he hadn't already stuffed himself so that he could do it again.

"I'm fine. Just talking to Godric," her expression brightened slightly at his company, though she still looked a little forlorn. Godric and Saphira weren't at the party proper, but they were resting only two streets away and could arrive in seconds if there was trouble.

"Anything in particular?"

She smiled wryly "Talking was perhaps giving it too much credit. I was complaining and he is listening patiently, and occasionally offering to set fire to everything and just spirit me away so we can continue on our journey."

"It's not that bad," he argued. "I don't think I have ever tasted something as delicious as this."

That was only partly true. This was undoubtedly the best food he had ever eaten, but noting could compare to a first decent meal after a winter of going hungry.

"It's not bad," she admitted without much enthusiasm, and Eragon was again reminded that she had lived an incredibly wealthy lifestyle by his standards. "Just ignore me, I don't want to spoil your evening. It is good that you are capable of enjoying this; one of us should."

"What exactly is wrong with this? I get that they aren't friends, but they aren't malicious either. A lot of these dwarves have done a lot of good for the Varden's cause. The least we can do is hear them out."

A sigh. "I guess I am just being childish."

"I doubt that," Eragon said "And you still haven't told me why."

"We are on display again, and I don't like that. It reminds me of politics."

"And what is wrong with that?" Gannel asked from across the table. He had somehow joined them at the table across from the riders without noticing.

"Are you asking me why I don't like politicking?" Helena asked the clan chief.

Gannel nodded.

"I know what needs to be done, right from wrong, good and evil," Helena features contorted into a disgusted expression. "Why don't they? Do they expect a reward for doing what they should have done in the first place? I know that everyone tends to look after themselves and theirs fist, I'd be lying if I said I didn't occasionally do the same. But it's all just so frustrating."

"I suppose that's understandable," Gannel nodded. "You don't have to like it, I know I don't, but I hope you see that the alternative is worse."

"And what's that?" Eragon inserted himself into the conversation.

"Tyranny. As frustrating as other people are, with their own pesky problems that are of course less important than our own bigger picture, it is a willingness to listen to them, nay, being forced to listen to them, that separates tyrants from politicians."

"Are those really the only options," Helena groaned, rubbing her forehead tiredly.

"Of course not," Gannel chuckled. "You could also become neither, but then you won't be able to change anything. Tell me, when you look at the world, are you happy with it? Or do you think things could be better? If you think it can, and want to make it so, you better get used to all this," he mimicked Helena's own disgusted expression from before. "politicking."

"I doubt that is how we will defeat Galbatorix."

"It is why there even is a struggle against Galbatorix in the first place," Gannel retorted.

"Yea, but in the end it will still come down to him versus the four of us."

"Sadly, yes." Gannel turned his gaze on Eragon. "And what of you, Eragon, do you share Spell-master's view?"

Eragon was immediately put on the back food. "I, ehm. .. Well talking to these people is no great hardship, if that is what you are asking?"

"I am glad to hear," Gannel smiled. "But I was talking more broadly; you were listening, weren't you?"

"I don't know. I know I would prefer to leave these matters to likes of Nasuada. I trust them more with big decisions than I would myself."

"A stance that possess more wisdom and courage than it implies." He turned back to Helena. "Think on it girl. This war won't last forever." He left their table.

Helena turned a narrow-eyed gaze on him. "This is ridiculous! This has to be the fourth time since I met the Varden that someone implies that I am just two steps away from wanting to take over the world."

"They just don't know you very well," he tried to reassure her.

Helena wasn't listening however and continued. "As if my willingness to speak my mind is the same as Galbatorix's ambitions of world domination. I may have called Murtagh out on his bullshit, but I never took the choice away from him."

Helena needed to come up for breath and Eragon decided it was best to just nod and let her rant.

"I am helping them out of the goodness of my heart, so why do they all feel the need to lecture me on everything. Why can't they just be glad I am on their side and leave it at that."

"They are afraid what you will do afterwards." A pause. "For that matter, what you do after all this?"

"Focus on getting word to my friends back home, if I haven't done it by then."

"And after that?"

Helena didn't have a ready answer and after a few seconds, gave a tiny shrug. "I haven't given it much thought. We have mostly spent the last month going from one crisis to the next."

Eragon knew what he hoped she would do after the war was over but knew that that was still premature to mention. "Anyway, I am sure you will prove all your detractors wrong." He stood up and offered her a hand. "Shall we return to the celebrations?"

Not bothering to hide her smile, she grabbed his hand. Eragon didn't let go, even when it became clear that she would follow of her own volition.

Ûndin saw them, of course, and introduced a group of dwarven hunters to them. They weren't wealthy like most of guests here, but were well-regarded none the less. Seeing that these dwarves shared a profession with him, Eragon was actually able to talk instead of simply listen. Helena didn't open her mouth after giving her name, and Eragon hoped they weren't boring her. He knew she hadn't been able to contribute much to his and Murtagh's discussions on the subject while they were traveling to Gil'ead.

As in with most of the chats of the evening, Ûndin was the one who had to cut it short in order to make sure no one group was able to monopolies their time.

"You're doing great, son," the elder dwarf complemented him. "You're not what they expected."

"What were they expecting?" Eragon asked.

"Someone more aloof, and not someone that actually listened to what they had to say."

"Not hard to beat your expectations then."

"They expect what they know. Don't sell yourself short. Few can pull of humble without also showing weakness or uncertainty like you can."

Humility. . . Eragon knew that it wasn't meant as a backhanded compliment but it felt like one.

Helena made a 'humming' noise to draw attention to herself.

"You are not doing terribly," Ûndin told her cautiously. "But you would rather be somewhere else and it shows."

Helena looked briefly at Eragon before answering Ûndin in a strained voice. "I'll try to do better."

"Just one more hour and you will be able to retire to your quarters, one of the few build for your human size," Ûndin encourage her, "though I am sad to see a celebration held in your honor burden you so."

Helena looked pained. "And now I feel guilty. Look, the party is lovely and the fault lies solely with me. This just isn't my thing."

Ûndin nodded and Helena continued speaking, opening the palms of her hands in an imploring gesture. "I can't really relax because I am afraid I will say the wrong thing, and I don't want to interact because I don't want them to know how ill at ease I am. Really, I am honored by all the effort you're going through."

Ûndin raised a calming hand. "Relax, I am not offended." He reached up to put a hand on her shoulder and smiled encouragingly. "Just try your best for the short time remaining, and remember." The dwarf gave Eragon a sly look, "you are not alone." And with those words, the clan chief left them, though as always, he stayed nearby.

And for a not-unpleasant fifteen minutes Eragon introduced Helena to a few of the people he had met this evening. Once again Eragon wondered why Helena found this so difficult. All you had to do was stand there and allow these dwarves to talk about themselves; something they all loved to do.

Eragon had just been listening to the dwarven equivalent of a town mayor of a small settlement to the west of Tarnag when the constant murmur of voices fell silent. The chirping of crickets and the rustling of leaves in the wind rung in his ears as his senses suddenly came alert for whatever caused the disturbance.

Eragon followed the gazes of the guests to three dwarves with purple veils, the symbol of the clan that had sworn vengeance on the Riders, so Ûndin had told them beforehand. All eyes were on them and the Riders, and Eragon found the anxiety that had slowly ebbed away as the night wore on return with a vengeance. Az Sweldn rak Anhûin had decided to show up.

Ûndin didn't move from his spot, making it clear that the Riders had to deal with this themselves for the time being. Eragon felt Saphira paying attention to his mind and the situation, ready to literally crash the party if anyone threated to do him bodily harm.

One of the three veiled dwarves stepped in front of the others to, hopefully, greet and not attack them. "Vralst lif Rikst rak bolgend," he said.

While Eragon noticed that nearly all dwarves spoke their own language when talking to each other, they all made an effort to speak the common tongue when speaking to him, or near him.

"We are pleased to meet you," Eragon returned cautiously, guessing and hoping that the dwarves had spoken a simple greeting.

The veils they wore were just translucent enough to see the sneers on their faces.. ""Jok etas kythum dur gastram, etas dur."

It was obvious that they wanted to draw attention to fact that he couldn't speak their language.

"If you do not know our language, I am sure that we can find a translator," Helena suggested innocently, drawing a chortle of laughter from the onlookers.

Eragon found himself smiling despite himself. Despite not wanting to antagonize these dwarves, neither he nor Helena were good at letting insults and challenges go.

The leading veiled dwarf hissed. "I am Grimstborith Vêrmund, of Az Sweldn rak Anhûin. Do you know who we are?"

Eragon had previously thought what he would say in this exact scenario and was ready. "You were once one of our closest allies, before most of you died due to our own failings."

His words sent a save of whispered conversation through the porch, and even seemed to startle Vêrmund. It took him a long time to respond, long enough for the whispers to die down again.

"Then you must also know why we are not as elated to see you as Ûndin and these," he sneered, "sycophants."

Eragon looked towards the mentioned clan chief and found his face contorted in outrage.

'I suspect that the best way to deal with these dwarves is allow them to hang themselves with their careless insults,' Saphira remarked.

Eragon ignored her. "They are simply glad they do not need to face Galbatorix alone."

Vêrmund scoffed. "I question the necessity of your cooperation with us. Having Riders on our side didn't help the last time. Why would two rookies do better where your predecessors have failed. It wasn't even you that defeated Durza, was it? It was the elven lady."

Eragon couldn't think of a reply. Vêrmund raised several points that Eragon had asked himself numerous times. What hope did they– or at least he have where an order of more experienced Riders failed?

"By all reports, they were instrumental in the battle of Tronjheim," Ûndin came to his rescue.

The dragons were instrumental, as was Helena. All I did was stall Durza for a few seconds.

Vêrmund wasn't finished. "As I see it, our own ancestors rose up to defend us in our time of greatest need, after the Riders tried and failed."

'They clearly want a fight. Why exactly can't we give them one again?' Saphira sounded annoyed.

'We're busy,' Eragon returned tersely, and returned to the problem in front of him. "I understand why you can't have any faith in us after what happened, but we will try to prove you wrong and honor your kin who fell in our defense."

Vêrmund was momentary speechless. Eragon could see his mouth hanging open through the thin veil, before he also saw Vêrmund's eyes narrowed with a calculating glint. "You say you owe us much, to your credit I have to admit. Would you be willing to act on that debt?"

'It's a trap!' Saphira yelled in his mind and Eragon frowned. He wasn't a complete idiot.

"Within reason, of course," He replied cautiously.

Vêrmund grunted dismissively. "And what does your woman have to say about all this?"

Eragon turned and found Helena frowning at the situation. She looked at him with an unreadable expression before turning to Vêrmund. "I have nothing to say." She again shot him a brief glance that seemed to say, 'we will talk about this later.'

"I rather doubt that." Eragon saw Vêrmund smiling nastily under his veil. He looked back to Eragon and this time he sounded almost respectful. "For what it's worth, I hope you succeed in killing Galbatorix."

'And that we die in the attempt, no doubt,' Saphira commented again, but she sounded less tense now that the conversation appeared to be over.

Indeed, Vêrmund and his two hanger-ons turned on their heels and left as sudden as they had come.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"He's a dick," Helena said to him bluntly once they were safely back in their chambers.

Eragon's features contorted at the uncharacteristic vulgarity. "Crude, but not untrue."

"Why are bending over backwards for that slimy little man. I feel like we just agreed to apprentice ourselves to the twins as they once suggested."

"Like I said, we owe them a debt."

"Why?"

The questioned startled him due to the shear obviousness of the answer. "Oh, I don't know," Eragon began sarcastically. "Perhaps it's because nearly all of them died trying to save the Riders – which we are in case you had forgotten – from total annellation?"

"Alright, first of all, the fact these dwarves are alive right now means that they weren't among those trying to help the Riders."

Eragon couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You hold them being alive against them?"

"No, I don't," she snapped. "but it means that the ones who are left are no more or less brave than every other dwarf who stayed behind. Do we owe all of them a debt for doing nothing?"

That at least made an ounce of sense, but it was still more callous than he had come to expect from her. "Their loved ones died to protect us," he tried.

To Eragon's immense relief, Helena deflated a little. "Alright, I'll give you that one." The admission made Eragon halt his own rising emotions.

Unfortunately, Helena wasn't done. "But I have another issue."

Eragon took a breath and braced himself. "What is it?"

She shook her head slowly, "They never tried to save us. They tried to help this Vrael person, and I am not he. Whatever debts the Riders of old still have are no concern of mine."

What? "What about the debt you owe the Riders? Our bonded dragons, all we have become, we owe to them."

"I am who I am. Becoming a Rider hasn't changed my personality that much. And who I truly have to thank for Godric is still a mystery. And you have Arya to thank for Saphira; Arya, Brom, and Jeod. Not counting Brom, all the Riders of old died nearly a century before we were born. If anything, we now have to clean up their mess."

"You really blame the riders for that?" he accused.

"Well, ehmm, okay, maybe not," she took a metaphorical steps back. "But I don't see why I owe them anything either."

"You feel no connection to the Riders at all do you?" Eragon more realized than asked.

"The old order? Not particularly. They are gone, and we have to act how we see fit, not how the old guard did things. And I don't see why I should help someone like Vêrmund."

"You said you wanted to save them," he reminded her.

Helena lifted her gaze in an exasperated movement. "I didn't realize how easy they would be to dislike. They dishonor the ones who did die for the Riders by their actions."

Eragon felt himself growing tired with the argument. "We can prevent needless bloodshed."

"We can do that well enough by staying far away from them, which was our plan from the beginning, wasn't it?"

Eragon took a deep breath that seemed to have trouble going through a forming lump in his throat. "It would just make me feel a lot better, okay?"

"Now that is a reason I can get behind," she said, giving him a concerned look. "Are you okay?"

"Yea, I'm fine," waving her off. "It's been a long night."

"That it has," she turned towards her assigned bedchamber, but paused midturn, looking back at him. "Eragon. We're good, right?"

"Yes, of course we are." He turned and went to his own room with a heavy heart.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Eragon was walking over smooth polished stone of gold and black, surrounding by a grey fog that made it impossible to see more than four feet in any direction. He was also dreaming and knew it. It was like his dreams about Arya when she was held prisoner. It was all too lucid to be a true dream.

The fog seemed to be slightly less in a single direction, which was why he was walking that way. His footsteps resounded with a clear echo, making him suspect that he was inside of a large room of some sort. He felt nervous about what he might find, but not afraid. It was doubtful anything could hurt him in his own dreams.

A silhouette appeared in the distance. Considering its small stature, Eragon suspected a woman, and even started to get an idea about her identity. He had been arguing with her just recently after all.

The shadow in the mist was also moving erratically with small trembling motions, making feel like something was wrong.

As soon as he was close enough to see her through the mist, it parted entirely, leaving a small clearing around them with perfect visibility.

Eragon saw her and found himself frozen in horror.

Helena's hands were clutching a pulling at her hair. Tears were streaming down her face. Wild eyes were darting about in a panic, looking for escape for a problem that he didn't know but understood was beyond her somehow. Her mouth was open wide into a soundless wail of despair.

Then it got worse.

For a small moment, the trembling of Helena's body stopped, leaving her standing still as a statue. Her red rimmed eyes now looked dazed, staring at nothing.

Then a sudden explosion of power came from her body and knocked Eragon to the ground. Helena body grew stiff with her arms and head jerked backwards, fingers stretched apart, the tips of her shoes floating five inches above the ground.

That was also the moment she started screaming.

That finally brought home the fact that he needed to stop staring and do something! Eragon tried to crawl towards her but the waves of power coming from Helena hadn't stopped and made every inch a struggle like he was facing a powerful wind.

An angry red light started to glow from Helena's body and the waves of power increased in intensity, stopping whatever progress Eragon was making in reaching her. Now all he could do was prevent himself from being blown away.

Eragon found himself unable to breath. Like standing too close to roaring flame, that strange sense that allowed people to sense the pain of others called empathy threatened to overwhelm his mind due to the shear amount of pain he was knew Helena to be in. This pain went beyond the physical, like having your very soul flayed from your body.

Cracks started to appear on her skin, the angry red light shining through like rays of the sun through a small opening in a dark room. The mist had completely dissipated, but Eragon couldn't draw his gaze away from the horror in front of him to take it all in.

Eragon realized, with all the certainty of dreams, that this nightmare would only end once Helena was gone.

The tortured scream slowly lowered in volume, though it wasn't any less horrifying to listen to. Eragon suspected she must have partly destroyed her vocal cords by that point.

The cracks on her skin continued to spread until it covered her entire body, somehow managing to shine through her clothes. In one last explosion of hot light that forced Eragon to look away it was over. Where Helena had just been floating now lay a corpse that existed out of nothing but scar tissue. The corpse slowly moved upright and stared at him with familiar yet lifeless green eyes. . . and Eragon again heard screaming, though this time it came from his mouth.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Eragon returned to the physical world to the feeling of being shaken. When he opened his eyes, he saw the object of his fears above him, dressed in light sky-blue nightgown, alive and well. When Helena noticed that he was awake, she stopped shaking him and looked at him with concerned. "Saphira woke me when she noticed something was wrong and couldn't wake you. I found you trashing in your–"

Eragon didn't allow her to finish and pulled her down into an embrace, burying her head into the crook of his neck.

Eragon kept Helena there for several long seconds with one arm wrapped around her back and the other holding the back of her head, simply reassuring himself that she was there and nothing was wrong with her. Saphira also did his best to sooth whatever worry he held.

"Nightmare?" Helena asked softly. Her mouth was so close to his neck that her voice sent a pleasant shiver through his skin.

"It was more than that," he said, removing his hand and allowing Helena to roll of him. She was now resting on the edge of the matrass and stared at him. "I had a vision; like with Arya."

With some difficulty, he managed to describe what he had seen. It isn't real, he told himself when the emotions threatened to overtake him. I won't let it be.

Helena seemed appropriately disturbed. "Well, obviously I am still alive."

"I must have seen the future." Only once he had said it, did Eragon fear he might sound crazy.

"Your visions from Arya were all in the present, weren't they?" Helena said more than asked.

"It was different, somehow. In those visions I just saw her lying injured in a cell. This time I felt like I could interact, somehow."

"Are absolutely sure, you weren't just dreaming?" she wondered, though it sounded more like actually making sure and not outright dismissive of his claim of fortune telling. "I knew I sometimes dreamt of my friends dying. Our lives are dangerous and dreams can reflect our deepest fears."

Eragon thought about and began to hope that she might be right. He really didn't want that to have been a true prophetic dream.

Saphira dashed his hopes. 'If it had been a normal dream I would have been able to wake you. I don't know if what you saw was some sort of prophecy, but I do know that there was something strange about it.'

Eragon relayed Saphira's words.

Helena's eyes grew dull and she sat herself strait on the edge of the bed, staring at the wall. "I wish you didn't have this ability."

"But now that we know we can prepare," Eragon suggested, still lying on the bed but elevating himself by his elbows so he was closer to her level. "My vision of Arya allowed us to save her."

Helena snorted, not turning around to face him. "Your vision was too vague to really help us. It said nothing except that I would die painfully in the future, somehow. It didn't even tell us were the threat to my life would come from." She rubbed her hands down her face and cursed. "I thought I was done with being fated to die."

"You are not dying," Eragon promised her.

"What are we supposed to do? Be careful? We always try to be careful, and danger finds us anyway."

"To be fair, we do put ourselves in dangerous situations. We went to Dras-Leona, Gil'aed, and the Varden out of our volition."

"And we are unlikely to stop."

"I can't but you can. You wanted to search for a way to return hope, didn't you? Perhaps you should focus on that."

That suggestion did make her turn around to look at him. "You would have me leave?"

"Considering the alternative, yes," he said, though it pained him to say it.

"That's the stupid thing about prophecy," Helena said with bitter humor. "Even when they give more specifics than what yours did, you never know how they will turn out. Often the actions you take to avoid it end up causing it instead. What if whatever spell I find or discover to return me ends up killing me instead? It's a moot point, anyway. I am not leaving."

"But we can't just do nothing," he protested.

"Yet that's exactly what we are going to do." She emphasized the point with a pointed finger. "Even if this war is likely to kill me, I'd still go on. I didn't have much chance the last time either. It didn't stop me then and it won't stop me now." She tapped his bare chest. "And don't tell me you wouldn't feel the same in my shoes."

Eragon knew that was true, but still. . . "I can't lose you too," he said softly, not managing to meet her eyes as he said it.

Helena seemed taken aback for some reason. Eragon didn't understand why; he had made it clear how much she meant to him, hadn't he? Then her eyebrows scrunched together and she started to give him a considering look.

Eragon leaned back, uncertain. He could tell by the intensity of her gaze that she must be considering something important, but he didn't know what.

The silence dragged on for nearly half a minute, and Eragon started feeling self-conscience at the way her eyes sometimes strayed from his face to his naked torso. He only wore some loose pants tonight, having wanted to feel the soft blankets and mattress on his skin while he slept.

Helena's breathing seemed to grow more labored as time dragged on and a blush spread over her cheek.

Then she moved on top of him, placing her hands to either side of his shoulders, and started to violently kiss his mouth, assaulting his tongue with her own. She didn't bother to support her weight with her arms and Eragon fell back down on his back. Surprised, but not frozen or feeling at all objectionable, working entirely on instinct, his arms wrapped around the young woman and pressed her closer to his torso. Feeling the soft mounts of her breasts pressing against him through her nightgown. His hands started to trace the smooth curves of her body through the soft blue fabric of her clothes.

Things escalated further when Helena began to rub her body against his. Their mouths separated in the process as Helena's mouth ran over his cheeks, chin and neck, tasting whatever parts of his body she could reach at any given moment. Hot breath brushed and tickled against his skin along with the wetness of her tongue.

This is really happening, was Eragon's first truly lucid thought as Helena pulled her blouse above her breasts, allowing him to feel her skin directly. Both still had their lower bodies covered but that didn't stop him from slipping his hands under her pants and feeling her thighs and bottom for the first time.

Helena didn't seem to mind, smiling lasciviously at him with flushed cheeks, and after what felt like only a short time of feeling each other up some more, slipped her legs under the crumpled bedsheets that still covered his own lower body. She then pulled the sheets over both their bodies up to his shoulders, leaving only the top of her head visible, though he still felt all of her.

Their legs entangled themselves and Helena, after some clumsy finagling, managed to trap the loose ends of his pants between her ankles and pull on them just enough for his arousal to slip free. Her legs spread apart after that.

The wanderings of his own hands had loosened her own breaches enough that they had slipped to bellow her thighs, and Eragon now felt their sexes rubbing against each other. . .

Eragon's eyes opened wide, and his mind shocked itself into rationality as if he had been drenched in ice cold water.

He pulled himself up to a sitting position, pushing Helena off of himself in the process. He kept one outstretched hand on her shoulder to force distance between them.

Helena blinked at him open mouthed. "Wha?"

"We can't do this." A loud part of his brain was calling him a fool for stopping this, but he managed to ignore it.

She bit her lip nervously. "Was it too soon?"

"Yes."

"Oh," was all she said, but Eragon could hear a lot of emotion in it; both sadness, embarrassment, and even shame. She pulled and adjusted her clothes so they covered her again, and even pulled the bedsheets to her body for extra protection, showing remarkable shyness considering the last few minutes.

"We're not married, nor even engaged," he elaborated lest Helena think she was somehow the problem.

The myriad of emotions on her face were replaced by genuine puzzlement. "Whut?"

Eragon stared back and returned her confusion with his own. There was absolutely no way she couldn't not know!

"If we continued like that," he said slowly, baffled that he needed to explain this. "I might have gotten a bastard on you."

"You feared you would get me pregnant?" she asked for confirmation.

"Well, yes and no. . . not in that way," he said. "We need to be married first or it would be great shame to us both."

It appeared everything either of them would say would end up surprising the other.

Helena recoiled and held up a hand. "Woah, woah, woah, let's slow down a moment. Are you saying you actually want to get a child on me, but only after you marry me?"

"Ehm. . ." was his eloquent response. He had thought and dreamed about that, but something warned him that just saying so now would be a bad idea. Not that his hesitance didn't speak for itself.

Helena's jaw dropped. "Merlin's balls. And I here I was, fearing I went too fast, and here you are, thinking about marriage and children." Incredulity dripped from every word.

"Were else did you think this was going?" he asked, still confused but also worried.

She opened her mouth, but no words came out, as if she never actually considered the question herself before.

"Are we not courting?" he continued to ask.

She blinked and looked at nothing for a moment, seemingly needing to actually think about the question.

"Is this just a passing fancy for you?" he asked, shocked at the possibility.

"No!" she denied quickly.

"Then what are we doing?"

"We're. . ." she looked about herself helplessly. "We're dating. Seeing each other. Boyfriend and girlfriend." She repeatedly entangled her fingers together as if that gesture was supposed to make things clearer.

"I have heard you use those words before," he said, feeling like they were about to make progress in untangling this mess. "Is there a difference?"

"It's all a lot less. . . formal?"

"You sound unsure," he pointed out.

"It's not like I'm an expert on the subject," she said defensively. "Does it have to be more complicated than two people liking each other and spending time together?"

"We're doing a lot more than simply spending time together," he said dryly.

"You know what I mean!" she exclaimed, cheeks blushing again.

"Your parents were married weren't they? Why does my bringing up the subject scare you?"

"If this is you asking me to marry you, then I am very sorry Eragon, but the answer is no."

"I am not asking you to marry me!" Eragon exclaimed back at her, making a short wild gesture with his hand. "Not yet anyway. I know that's premature. That's why we are courting. So I get a chance to convince you. That's how it works, doesn't?"

"Okay. . ," she still seemed taken aback everything, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "I think I just didn't put nearly as much thought into this as you did."

"Obviously," he said, feeling a lot more confident now that it looked like the fault didn't lie with him.

"Anyway," she spoke, drawing out the word in a way that indicated she wanted to move away from this topic. "You don't need to worry about me getting pregnant. We witches know of a potion that can renders us infertile until we drink the antidote, no side effects. Ends our monthlies too. Magic is convenient like that."

A part him felt disquieted at what she told me. To him, sex was one of the most intimate things you could do with another person. The act had an almost mythical aspect to it by the way people spoke of it; or didn't speak of it more like. By the time you were willing to share yourself so completely with another person, it was normal that marriage and children wouldn't be far off. The thought that sex could become so casual and free of consequence made him feel uneasy. That uneasiness warred with the desire to simply resume what they had been doing before now that he didn't need to fear dishonoring her and was soundly defeated. "So you don't mind if we continue. . ." Oh, blast it! Why is this still so hard to talk about even after they had nearly done it. "Even though you have no plans to marry anyone yet?"

"Was I not obvious enough when I threw myself at you?" she smiled wryly

"So. . ." he drawled, and eyed her suggestively. She had stopped trying to hide herself behind the blanket about halfway through their talks, and she sat on straight on her knees with her hands on either side. He could still vividly recall how her body had felt in his hands. The new possibilities that could now be explored without consequence started to revive his arousal.

Helena's smile grew wide and teasing. "Nah, huh. You have thoroughly ruined the moment, love." The dismay on his face seemed to only widen her grin. "I expect something property romantic next time. Don't wait too long," she teasingly padded his cheeks. "You never know how much time you have."

Those words brought back the vision that started this event, and they both grew somber. "That was in poor taste," she admitted.

"I'll say," he agreed.

"Try not to let it bother you," she said, obviously trying to reassure him with a kind smile. "I have beaten all the odds before, and might do it again. And prophecies don't always mean what you think they mean. We truly don't know anything."

"I don't think I can just ignore what I saw," he admitted.

"The best thing any of us can do right now is get some sleep," she gave him a chaste kiss on the lips and pushed herself off the mattress.

Eragon briefly entertained the thought of pulling her back into bed with him, but the moment pasted. "Goodnight," he called after her.

"Goodnight," she returned with a soft smile, and then she was gone.

Eragon sat on the bed, knowing it was going to be very hard to get any sleep in. Even more then the vision, he couldn't banish the memories Helena in his arms as they explored each other with all the fervor and gracelessness of two virgins, and that brief moment when his member touched that moist area between her legs. Nor did he want to forget to be honest, but it did present a problem as he felt himself stirring even more.

Exhaling an audible heavy breath, he realized he needed to care of this before he had any chance of sleeping. He was grateful Saphira had put as many barriers between their minds as possible once his encounter with Helena began. All of this was embarrassing enough with only himself as a witness to his thoughts.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The next morning as the riders met each other in the dining hall was an awkward affair. Both looked like they didn't get much sleep. Even after relieving himself, Eragon couldn't get the words from last night out of his head and what it all meant.

After some prodding, Eragon had shared last night's events with Saphira. The blue dragon had been utterly baffled by both their behaviors and declared the entire human race mentally ill. It looks like she was washing her claws of their romantic problems.

The riders set themselves at the table, waiting for servants to bring them their breakfast, neither being able to hold the others gaze for long

Eragon tried to search for some topic of conversation, but his thoughts kept being pulled back to Helena's strange behavior. Or perhaps it wasn't strange at all. A memory had come to him as lay in bed, unable to sleep. 'You want me to act demure, obedient and act like my greatest wish in life is marry a good husband so I can pop out babies?'

He knew that she was different than other women, but when she agreed to be courted, he thought everything was going to progress as expected. But she didn't really agree to that did she? 'I will be your girlfriend' and 'yes, I want to see where this goes', were her exact words. He thought that being boyfriend and girlfriend was the same as courting, but maybe it was the same as. . . what? Being a mistress or paramour? Courting without any of the future prospects? Shit, he didn't understand her at all.

'Does it have to be more complicated than two people liking each other and spending time together?'

Could he do as she had suggested and simply not think about it? Maybe, but words had been spoken and he couldn't take them back. She knew his mind now and, honestly, it was probably better this way. He wouldn't apologize for his hopes and dreams. If Helena was so close minded that she believed being part of a family would turn her into a 'demure, obedient wife who's greatest wish is to pop out babies' then that was her failing. If that was so, it was better that he knew so now.

The more he thought about it, and with his libido no longer distracting his thoughts, the more he found himself shifting the blame for their current problems on Helena. "What do you want from me?" he finally asked her after the servants had brought their meals and left.

Her shoulders slumped at the question. "I don't know."

"Then how am I supposed to know?"

"You are doing fine."

"Clearly not, considering last night."

Helena sighed tiredly. "You ask me what I want from you?" Her voice and face grew wistful. "I want to be held and be loved. Have you show your concern for me, be kind and unashamedly romantic and sing me horrendously bad poetry. Like I said, you're doing fine." Her expression became subdued. "The problem isn't what I want from you. The problem is what you want from me."

"I love you," he said, and found his words true despite his current annoyance. "That is why I want to keep you with me."

"I love you too." And Eragon braced himself for the 'but' that he knew was coming. "But the future is uncertain. I can't promise you anything, not marriage nor future children. Even if I were to stay in Alagaësia." She rubbed her temples tiredly. "Blimey, you are only sixteen."

Eragon was suddenly reminded of all the girls in Carvahall who were warned by their mothers, and fathers, and the elder women to be careful of men who wouldn't commit to anything. He had never expected that warning to work in the opposite direction. The comparison almost made him laugh.

"Do you want to end it?" she asked, looking dejected.

Eragon shook his head, more to buy himself time to think than as an actual answer. As he had said, he still loved her. All of her flaws couldn't hold up to her virtues. Courage, passion, and a desire to do right wherever she could. For all of their current misunderstandings, they had a lot in common on a fundamental level. More pragmatically, she was the only human woman he could really be with, considering that they were both immortal. He didn't want to be alone forever. Elves were a possibility, but if Arya was anything to go by, they were even more different from him than Helena was.

"No, I don't want to end it," he said, and groaned tiredly. "All of this is just really strange to me. All of this talk about a future together was only supposed to come after at least a few months of convincing you I am good match. Not a week after our first kiss. None of the rules I have been taught seem to apply here." If they had both lived in Carvahall they wouldn't have even needed to have this conversation. It would all just be understood.

"A few months ago you were a farm boy in Carvahall and I was in entirely different world. And I am still planning to research traveling across dimensions. Who knows where we will be in a few months, or if we will even be alive." Eragon's vision loomed over them like a dark cloud, reminding him that maybe they had bigger things to worry about than their far distant future.

"Alright, let's focus on the present," he declared, and smiled wryly at her. "You want me to be unashamedly romantic? Come over here." He padded his legs.

A relieved smile appeared on her face and she went over to him and sat herself on his lap. He wrapped one of his arm around her midriff to hold her close and used the other to fill a spoon with broth. "Say 'AAH'." He said as he slowly brought the spoon to her mouth.

She opened her mouth wide, eyes sparkling with delight. "AAAHHHHHHH. . ."

After a while Helena started to feed him as well in a similarly silly way. And that was how Gannel found them; sitting in each other's lap while holding spoons to the others mouth.

xxxxxxxx

Despite being tired from a lack of sleep, Eragon left for the temple in high spirits. There had been some stumbling but he and Helena were fine again. Still, he was looking forward to the coming tour and lessons that had nothing to do with trying to understand the minds of women. He needed a break.

Celbediel was more than a temple to the dwarven gods. It was also a collection of the most wondrous awe-inspiring art he had ever seen. If Tronjheim's glory came from its sheer scale as well as the obvious effort and resources it would have taken to build. Celbediel's glory came from the skill and creativity of the artisans that worked on it.

Gannel led them through long painted hallways that depicted the history of Alagaësia from the ages myths and gods to the present day.

Eragon froze when he found the newest painting. An idealistic picture of a much younger Brom shoving a sword through Morzan's ribs. Brom's expression was one of enraged passion with tears running down his face while Morzan looked surprised he had been bested. Eragon doubted it really went down that way. The Brom he remembered was a cool and calculating fighter not prone to bouts of passion. His old mentor told him that he defeated Morzan using cunning, not rage and strength. Eragon still considered the painting a work worthy of Brom, however, despite its inaccuracy.

"Soon our artisans will start to work on depicting your own victory at Farthen Dûr," Gennal said, pointing further down the as of yet unpainted empty hallway.

From there it was like they were walking backwards in time. The death of every one of the Forsworn was captured on the walls, though none were given the attention that Morzan's defeat had received. They also passed an area with paintings of a ruby colored dragon breathing fire on the city of Tarnac. The dragon, which he knew to be Morzan's, did bear a remarkable resemblance to Godric, except he was much larger, his claws were more elongated and had a darker hue to them. The painted walls were sectioned off by pillars of granite, with each section showing a different event in history. Before each section stood a stone tablet with an explanation of the event carved into its surface. It was written in dwarfish, however, so they had to rely on Gannel's narration.

Another picture that was even grander than the defeat of Morzan or the burning of Tarnac, showed Galbatorix's battle against Vrael. It came in many parts with one frame showing Galbatorix on his back in a position that indicated he had just fallen but was trying to get up, with Vrael's gleaming wide sword on his neck. Vrael's expression was one of sorrowful hesitance; like a once proud parent being forced to fight one of his own children. Galbatorix's was snarling back at him, hand reaching for his fallen sword. It was the perfect picture of a tragic hero facing down a malicious villain. Another corner of the wall showed Galbatorix lunching forward, calling Vrael's bluff that he wouldn't use the sword pointing at his neck.

From there they walked through the battle at Ilirea, which later became Urû'bean, and the destruction of Doru Araeba.

Gannel continued his history lesson. "Not much is known about what happened during that battle. All we know for sure was that there was a cataclysmic explosion that killed nearly all of the remaining riders and one of the Forsworn. We guess it must have been some spell gone awry, since even Galbatorix was said to be wounded by it. We don't know by whom it was cast. Now the island is rumored to be home to many strange and dangerous creatures. Among the few scavengers that dared to go there, the even fewer that returned told us that everything of value has been destroyed."

The journey continued and Eragon couldn't help feeling small in the presence of these depictions of Alagasia's greatest heroes. Never more so when he reached the end of the hallway, which ended in a large circular room, which Gannel informed them depicted the event that marked the beginning of an era.

A young male elf with long white hair, red rimmed haunted eyes, and tense shoulders kneeling in the snow and clutching a gleaming dragon egg that put both the elves' hair and the snow to shame with the purity of its whiteness.

"Behold, Eragon, your namesake. The first Rider, and arguable the greatest hero this world has ever seen. Not because he won a war, but because he ended one. If not for him and the dragon Bid'Daum, the elves and the dragons might have driven each other to extinction."

Suddenly the moniker of 'The Second' that Ûndin had given him upon their first meeting made sense.

Gannel gestured around himself, and Eragon felt his blood grow cold. He hadn't noticed before since the picture of his namesake drew his attention, but the rest of the circular walls depicted Alagaësia drowning in blood and fire. The artisans had not pulled any punches when showing the results of the battles between the elves and dragons. Eragon saw an elf staggering towards a fallen dragon to finish it off, all the while clutching his own obviously mortal wound to prevent even more of his entrails from falling out. A cave full of shattered dragon eggs. He saw fleeing women with babes clutched to their chests being engulfed in dragon flame. They showed the charred corpses in vivid detail. It was like every new horror they saw was trying to outdo the one before.

Eragon had seen war during the battle of Farthen Dûr, but for all its brutality, there was still some measure of honor to be found there. Everyone on that battlefield had chosen to be there and had the ability and will to fight. What was depicted on these walls was something else. A true war of annihilation were two races tried to exterminate the other. From Gannel, they learned that it started when an elven hunting party killed one of the dragons, thinking them nothing more than beasts. Then the dragons retaliated. Then the elves retaliated further. Then the dragons. Then the elves, until nobody cared where it started anymore, but they couldn't stop.

He averted his eyes when he could stomach it no longer and found Helena similarly horrified with a hand covering her face. He moved close enough to wrap an arm around her, as much for his comfort as hers. They exchanged a glance of mutual gratitude before their gazes were again drawn to Eragon, The Savior. He knew that would be his name even before anyone told it to him.

"What happened to him?" Eragon asked.

"He founded the Riders, of course," Gannel said reverently. "My people may have had troubles with the Riders in the past, but we recognize greatness when we see it."

"How did he die?" Helena asked softly.

"He and Bid'Daum died in an attack by the Ra'zac, who were more numerous then. Despite their achievements, they were actually one of the least powerful Rider and Dragon pairs of their time."

"How is that possible?" Eragon wondered. It seemed wrong for such a hero to be called weak.

"Because he wasn't a Rider, not like you two are," Gannel answered. "The Riders that came after him were a result of the Blood-oath. A magical pact between the elves and dragons, and later humans, that bounded them together. A dragon egg would choose a partner and the ancient enchantment would bind their souls together, making both stronger than they would otherwise be. Eragon and Bid'Daum met each other before the pact was made; they were never bonded together by magic. They were just an elf and a dragon that became friends. Despite that, or maybe because of it, I call them the greatest of their kind."

Was this whom he was named for? I think I am going to be sick.

"We'll take a small break here," Gannel stated, giving him a sympathetic look. "I need to wet my throat before we continue. Meet me back at the entrance hall in twenty minutes."

Eragon didn't know if Gannel really needed to drink something after talking for one and half hours, or if he sensed Eragon wanted to confide in private. But he was grateful for it.

He stepped closer to the panting that took up the entire ten square yards of the wall. It was so large that he knew his neck would soon be sore from staring up. "I refused Jörmundur when he offered me the name 'Dragonheart'. I thought it was too grand, considering my own lack of achievements. Now I don't know why he even bothered. It seems the name 'Eragon' carries more glory than any other name he could give me."

Helena stood next to his shoulder, but didn't say anything. Simply keeping a calm eye on him.

"Was this Morzan's idea of joke? Naming me after the greatest rider of all time?"

No answer came, not from Helena, nor Saphira. He knew there couldn't be one.

"At one point, a name carries too much expectation for anyone to handle," he continued to say.

"Like calling your own child Merlin, or Jesus," Helena supplied.

Helena had told him enough background on her world to understand the comparison. "Exactly," he agreed. "How am I ever supposed to be worthy?"

"Once we beat Galbatorix, I am sure everyone will agree the name fits," Helena smiled encouragingly.

"But I won't be the one to beat him," Eragon voiced a fear he had intended to keep to himself and Saphira. "You will be one to defeat him."

Helena's looked at him as if he had just slapped her. "You're putting it on me?"

"Don't misunderstand me. I will stand by your side every step of the way. Die if I have to. But I am not blind. I am a new novice Rider; no different from any of the hundreds that went before me, and died fighting Galbatorix and his Forsworn. But you? You have powers unique to this world. Powers that Galbatorix doesn't have or know, and you have saved a world once before. If anyone can do this, it is you and your endless bag of tricks and miracles."

Helena stared at him for a long moment, looking heartbroken, and then she walked away toward the entrance hall, alone.

'That was poorly done,' Saphira chastised him. 'I don't think she likes the pressure anymore more than you do. And you just pushed the responsibility of winning the war on her.'

'Did I lie?'

'You spoke from the heart, but it was still a cruel thing to do.'

"Shit," he cursed through clenched teeth. "Shit." He turned around and ran after her, catching up to her only after a few painted sections. She must have heard him approaching, but didn't turn around until he laid a hand on her small shoulder. Eragon knew that the blank stare she gave him was his fault and guilt made his heart clench painfully. How pathetic a man can you be? Your supposed to protect and comfort her, not this.

"I am sorry. I didn't mean it. It was a moment of weakness, that's all."

A sigh escaped Helena's lips. "It's alright Eragon. I am used it, and I appreciate your support. It just made feel. . . a little lonely, I guess."

"I won't stop until I am as strong as you," he promised.

"You already are."

Eragon disagreed. "Galbatorix must have faced hundreds of master swordsmans and magicians. I'll become good at both, but I'll find some other way to contribute beyond that. Like you do."

"How? You can't help what you are. I was born with these powers and you were not," she bluntly pointed out.

"I don't know," he answered honestly. "Maybe I can become a sorcerer?"

"Trianna told me enough about summoning spirits that you can't use it as a cheat to become more powerful than you already are, unless you become a Shade," Helena said, shaking her head. "Really, Eragon, it is alright." She smiled wanly. "I'm used to this, and I'll pull through. Just stand by me and we'll be fine."

"I won't stop looking for ways to help," Eragon promised again.

She looked at him fondly. "I know." She moved in for a hug and he reciprocated, burying his face into her raven hair while she rested her head in the crook of his neck. She's so much smaller than me, he couldn't help but think. I should be able to protect her.

'Good,' Saphira commented, 'I would have been. . . displeased if you had used Helena's presence as an excuse to shirk your own destiny.' For the first time a little genuine malice seeped into Saphira's tone, and Eragon suppressed a shiver. Yes, disappointing her so severely would not have been wise.

Henena pushed herself away from him after a few seconds. "Come. We don't want to keep Gannel waiting too long."

The world won't wait for us to deal with our personal problems, Eragon thought, feeling drained. "One day the world will be stable again, and we will have all the time in the world."

Helena snorted. "That'll be the day. Let's just try and enjoy this shall we? Gannel is a good story teller, you have to admit." Helena continued walking and he followed her.

"Good. I was just about to come looking for you." Gannel stood up from where he was sitting when he saw them. "It is a real shame you can't stay for long. This tour would normally last a week. I am just giving you a heavily abridged version." He grinned. "But now we get to the real meat of the matter. The time before elves and dragon, the history of our people. To a time where the gods themselves walked the land."

It wasn't hard for Eragon's mood to improve again once Gannel led them towards another painted corridor, this time accompanied by statues. Eragon had always been inquisitive, so he couldn't think of anything he would rather be doing, other than going back to his bed.

Carvahall didn't have a proper religion so much as it had a long list of superstitions. Everybody agreed that there were higher powers beyond the physical, but it was all rather vague. Spirits that haunted the clumsy and the unlucky. The concepts like justice that had personalities and pushed the world this way and that. Legends of gods that walked the earth, which upon reflection, Eragon suspected might have referred to the riders of old.

As such, Eragon was fascinated by Gannel's exposition of the dwarven pantheon. He had read some of it in the library of Tronjheim, but what could be learned from dusty tomes paled in comparison to the dwarven priest's enthusiasm and sincerity. That the dwarves also had a goddess, Shindri, who was a patron of the human race managed to make Eragon feel more involved.

Remembering Arya's warning about not accepting anything without question, Eragon happily asked plenty of questions. Gannel didn't seem to mind; even seemed enthused by his inquisitiveness, and answered in fantastical anecdotes and metaphors that Eragon found made perfect sense. Helena stayed mostly quiet. She didn't seem annoyed or anything, just ambivalent about everything. It was clear to him, and probably Gannel, that she didn't believe all she heard. Eragon supposed it all did seem a little fantastical, but Eragon was just content to have an explanation were before there wasn't one.

Gannel continued to talk for three hours before they took a small break. "That's all we have time for, I'm afraid," the dwarven priest said. "I still need to teach you an important rite, but after that we are done. You can only take in so much at a time."

What followed was less interesting, but thankfully didn't last long. Gannel taught them how to properly bury a dwarf in stone and the words of mourning they needed to say in that event. That didn't take longer than fifteen minutes, but Gannel insisted that they didn't leave before they could recite the verses from memory. Thankfully, Gannel gave them a translated version of the original Darvish version.

"Spell-Master, you didn't seem very convinced earlier," Gannel pointed out.

Helena lifted her eyes upward as if to say 'why me'. "What do you want me to say Gannel? You can't force belief, and besides, if you know of my origins, it wouldn't matter if I did. They still wouldn't be my gods."

"What do you believe in Helena?" Gannel asked curiously.

Helena shrugged. "I believe a great many things, but I know what you are really asking. The truth is that I don't know if there is such a thing as the devine. And I don't think I ever will, nor do I think it matters."

"You're a strange one," Gannel said, giving her a shrewd look. "But don't be afraid your lack of faith will be held against you. Just show respect for our ways and you will be fine. Even if you don't live them yourself."

"Ehum," Eragon cleared his throat. "I don't think I am entirely convinced either," Eragon admitted before Gannel left with the wrong idea about him.

"But you are thinking about it," Gannel smiled. "That's all I really expected. Now, I have one more thing to offer you. You can thank Hrothgar for it since he asked it of me." Gannel fished two necklaces out of his robe's pockets. One had a minature silver hammer attacked to it, which he gave to Helena, the other had figure that looked like a frozen flame, which he gave to Eragon. "Hrothgar worries that Galbatorix might be able to scry you if he has seen your image in the mind of one of his minions. These necklaces will protect you from that."

Helena held the necklace close to her face by its silver hammer. "Why didn't we think of that?"

Why didn't I? The ancient language is supposed to be my area of expertise, Eragon berated himself. "Would that even work? Surely Arya would have said something if we had overlooked something so important."

A flicker of annoyance flickered across Gannel's face at the mention of Arya's name. "We don't know. But even if he can't. If just one of Galbatorix's magician's has seen you. . ." he let the statement hang.

"Thank you for the gift," Eragon thanked him, putting on the neckless under the color of his shirt.

"Indeed," Helena did the same. "I haven't seen many magical items around the Varden, so they must be hard to make. Thank you."

Gannol nodded his head. "You are quite welcome welcome. Be aware that the necklace will draw from your own lifeforce if activated, which you will notice instantly."

"How much energy?" Eragon asked.

"Much less than the magician on the other end is using when he tries to scry you, but it may still be a risk if you find yourself exhausted."

The grinding sound of a door opening sounded across the hall. They turned and found Arya striding towards them, and there was something strange in the way she held herself. It made Eragon feel uneasy.

The elf met Gannel with a curt nod. "Grimstborith."

"Shadeslayer," Gannel returned. A tiny smile tugged at the corner of Arya's lips at the moniker. For all that she claimed that one of the Riders should have taken the credit, she seemed to enjoy the reminder of her just revenge.

"I take it you are done with instructing the Riders on your mythology."

Eragon suspected he was about to discover just why Arya didn't like this place.

Gannel smile was strained. "One should always understand the faith of the society one belongs to."

"But understanding does not imply belief," Arya's face was serene, but thought he could sense a hint of challenge in her eyes. "Nor does it mean that those who purvey such beliefs do so for more than... material gain."

"Question our beliefs if you must, Shadeslayer, but do not question my motives," Gannel snarled.

"How can I not?" Arya asked with faux-innocence, running a finger over a nearby pillar. "When I think of all the potential good your incredible wealth can do for your people, for the Varden, for the whole world even. Yet you pile it into monuments for your own wishful thinking."

Gannel's face contorted in anger. This can't possibly end well, Eragon thought. "Enough! You may have killed a Shade, but I will not allow your sacrilege." Arya merely smiled. "Not here of all places. Without our prayer and sacrifices, the crops would wither in drought. Rivers and lakes would flood. Our flocks would give birth to one-eyed beasts. The very heavens would shatter under the gods' rage!. . ."

Eragon listened to the argument with a mix of interest and dismay. While Gannel continued to speak about the good his clan did with their worship, Arya started to ask questions. Questions that pointed out contradictions in the narrative presented by the dwarven mythology. It also questioned the nature and morality of gods if they did exist. As Arya continued to question and insinuate with a serene smile on her face, Gannel continued to grow more emotional. The dwarf soon started to make his words louder instead of smarter.

More and more as the 'conversation' continued, Eragon started to doubt the stories he had been presented with in the last few hours. He realized that these were the questions that Arya had wanted him to ask. Still, something about this just felt wrong and he wanted them both to stop.

He whispered to Helena. "Don't you think we should stop this?" At this point, it looked like Gannel might lose his senses and attack Arya. He didn't fear for Arya's safety. Gannel may be a competent magician, if his enchanted necklace was any indication, but Arya was a supernatural being. If the dwarf made a move towards her it could only end in his humiliation at best.

"I am not touching that argument with a ten foot pool," Helena whispered back.

Eragon frowned, as he continued to observe the argument. On the surface it seemed like Gannel was making an ass of himself, and he was in a way. He had forgone trying to defend his position and was starting to make unsubtle insinuations of Arya's character. All the while, Arya kept a pleasant and polite smile on his face.

Yet, when Eragon looked into Arya's eyes, he could detect a hint of smugness in them. She was winning and she knew it. He was actually starting feel bad for Gannel. He obviously felt very strongly about all this, and all his emotions started to overcome his good sense.

"Arya," he said in a low voice, causing both speakers to stop and turn to him, Gannel angry, Arya smiling. "Shut up." There was a moment of stunned silence as both looked equally surprised at the target of his rebuke. The moment passed and Gannel. . . continued to look surprised. Seeing the young boy Rider tell off the beautiful elven maiden in favor of a gruff dwarven priest simply didn't mesh with him.

Arya on the other hand now directed her too polite smile at him. "Do you have something to add to this discussion, Eragon."

The frosty anger in her eyes combined with the aura of perfection that always seemed to surround the elf nearly made Eragon stammer out an apology. Instead he clenched his hand, muttering, "We are done here," and started to walk out of Celbediel. Helena followed after him and started walked at his side, watching him curiously.

"That whole concept of staying neutral is really death and buried, isn't it?" she asked wryly.

"I don't know why that bothered me so much," Eragon gave voice to his frustration. "Arya is probably right, and it's all just a bunch of stories. It's just. . . what business is it of hers?"

"She spoke what was on her mind," Helena said. "I hardly think I am one to criticize."

"But what was she trying to accomplish? Did she really think she could convince Gannel or did she want to start a fight she knew she couldn't lose? It seems unlike her. And it's their damn faith," he ranted. "Brom lectured me on assuming everyone thought like me. I still struggle with that, as you know, but I expected an elf to do better."

"Arya did have a point though," Helena spoke cautiously. "If they put their resources towards something more practical, they'd be a lot better off."

"It's their money," he grumbled. "And whatever the actual use, they think they are helping the world and there people. That's still better than those who care only for themselves."

"They could still do better."

Eragon stopped his stride, pausing in front of wall painting of the gods of water and fire, Kilf and Morgothal, fighting each other over something or other. "I thought it was you that asked me to respect other people's cultures."

"Sure, but not all cultures are equal. Remember Dras-Leona?"

Eragon couldn't forget even if he wanted to. People cut of pieces of themselves to placate Helgrind, and there was such a dividing line between the rich and the poor that it made him question the morality of his entire race. "I remember."

"And I remember some of the stuff the old pure-blood families came up with. Should we accept all of that without at least speaking up about it?"

"And what about my culture?" he asked moodily.

Helena was momentarily taken aback by the aggressive question, but recovered quickly. "It gave me you, so it can't be all that bad."

Eragon snorted, but secretly felt pleased. "I still think Arya should have been more considerate."

"And that," Helena said with great emphasize. "Is why you should be the next leader of the Riders."

"Huh?" Was Eragon's eloquent response. Where had that come from?

Helena smiled. "You care about people and this land in a way that I never will."

"You say that, yet you fight just as hard as me."

"But I doubt Alagaësia and its people will ever be as home to me as it is to you. I don't like admitting it, but a lot of little things about this world and people are. . . distasteful to me."

"You are not necessarily wrong you when call something distasteful. You were right about Murtagh not being like Morzan just because of blood. Something I am glad you convinced me of before my own relation came to light. You cause me to question things and I think that's good."

"But I will never understand these people like you will," Helena insisted. "And I doubt others will care as much about my opinion as you do. Murtagh didn't."

Eragon was about to object further. How he wasn't ready, and how Helena had more achievements to her name. But hadn't he recently resolved to help her however he could? To do what he could? This. This I can do. I hope.

"Very well. I am not going to argue further. If it comes to that, I'll take up that work."

Helena looked momentary surprised by his acceptance. "Good. Then let's pack our bags and say goodbye so we can move on."

And so they did. Or planned to. Somehow, Arya had managed to beat them back towards the chambers Ûndin had assigned him. Eragon found her sitting with her legs crossed on the stool opposite a writing desk.

"You shouldn't flee from words, Eragon," she said as he stood frozen in the doorframe. The elf looked at him with more curiosity than hostility. "Did you really buy into the dwarven mythology so quickly?"

"Not really," he answered.

"I'm glad you're not that gullible."

Gullible. . . "Whether you are right about the dwarven gods or not isn't important. You were being cruel."

"Cruel?" she repeated, tilting her head slightly.

"Did you really expect to convince Gannel?"

"Of course I didn't expect to convince Gannel, but that wasn't the point. Do you think I confronted him for his benefit?"

"Why then?"

"I did it for you."

That made him pause for a short moment. "How does angering a dwarven Grimstborith who has been nothing but accommodating help me?"

"He gave you only one side of the story. I wanted to make sure you actually thought about what is being taught in that temple."

"But why didn't you wait until we were alone again."

Arya didn't answer.

"Admit it. You wanted to humiliate Gannel in front of us. Why?"

Arya started to look troubled, so Eragon was content to let the silence stretch on until she answered.

"Perhaps you have a point," she admitted, lowering her gaze. "Gannel and his clan, Dûrgrimst Quan, they frustrate me. They could do so much good in the war against Galbatorix, and they don't. But what I did served no purpose." A weight seemed to settle on her shoulders. "I have been away from home for too long."

"You're homesick?" Eragon asked bluntly.

"Not the point. I am beginning to act– " Arya seemed to catch herself in time to stop, but Eragon guessed the end of her sentence all the same.

"Like a human?"

Eragon recognized the reluctance and shame of admitting fault on the elven woman's face. "I know this must sound arrogant to you, but I have lived two of your lifetimes already and I am supposed to be a diplomate. I should be smarter than that."

"You should apologies to Gannel then," Eragon suggested.

Arya looked like she tasted something foul in her mouth. "I suppose."

"We were about to pack our bags to leave, so you won't have much time."

"Short and painless," she said with a sigh. "Very well. I will go inform Ûndin and Gannel of our intention.

She left and Eragon sound found himself standing in the courtyard, waiting for Helena. However, Arya wasn't the only one that wanted to have meeting with him.

'Brace yourself. Godric wants to have a private word with you,' Saphira warned him just before the shadow of Godric's body darkened the yard. The red dragon landed so close to him that Eragon had trouble staying upwards.

Godric seemed to want to play with his nerves a bit since his head circled him like wolf did a small defenseless animal. Eragon hadn't properly understood how scary a dragon was until he had met one that wasn't bonded to his soul. Especially one that didn't seem to like him that much.

'Don't be afraid,' Saphira told him. 'He is just testing you. I wouldn't have let him meet you alone without getting some reassurances from him.'

If this was a test then Eragon didn't know how he was supposed to pass it. Just stand there frozen in fear? Walk boldly forward and swat the big mean looking dragon on the nose? Yea, no, that wasn't happening.

Eventually Godric stopped with his face just ten inches from his own face. 'Your vision. I demand you share it with me.'

Of course. That wasn't a request – read order – that he was unwilling to follow. Eragon didn't exactly know how he could give memories though. Every time someone other than Saphira looked through his memories it had been without his consent. For lack of a better idea he just tried to think of the beginning of the vision. Once he did, Godric dove into his mind so he could watch the memories on his own terms. To be fair, it probably did give the dragon a clearer picture than Eragon's attempts at recollection, but it wasn't pleasant. Eragon knew that Saphira would have taken a threat to his safety just as serious, so he didn't object to the rough treatment.

As soon as the nastier bit of the vision began, Eragon was treated to a sound he didn't know was possible. Godric started whimpering. When it was over, Godric retreated from him with sluggish movements as if he had several wounds all over his body, like dream Helena. 'We are done boy,' the dragon dismissed him.

'Why are you so snappy with me,' Eragon asked. 'We both care about your Rider and we both want to protect her. We should be allies.'

Godric paused and looked at him curiously. "How far would you be willing to go to protect her?"

"I'd stand between her and any threat and protect her with my life."

Godirc snorted dismissively. 'You are like Helena in that your life is the first thing you would risk, rather than the last. Tell me, would you raise a village to the ground and burn all its inhabitants to ashes if that was what it took to safe her?'

"Helena wouldn't want that," Eragon protested, feeling disturbed at the dragon's zealousness. Saphira was protective, but he knew she had limits and scruples that Godric didn't seem to have.

'No. She wouldn't,' Godric agreed readily. 'I actually do like you more than I like other people, Eragon, if that is your worry. I just don't feel the need to talk to you that often. Continue making my Helena happy and we will be fine. Hurt her however. . .' Godric's claws scraped along the pavement leaving deep scratches in the stone surface. Eragon cringed at the sound as well as the implication.

Helena once compared Godric to an overprotective dad. Eragon thought that too mild a comparison. He never thought he would envy Roran who only had to deal with Sloan the Butcher when he tried to court the man's daughter.

Eragon looked at Godric's form flying into the sky with trepidation. I hope Helena can keep him on a short leash. And if she were ever to die. . . he will probably go mad, and we will have to kill him. Like a dragon version of Galbatorix.

It wasn't long until Helena joined him. He didn't tell her about his short encounter with her dragon. "Alright, let's go," she said, sounding eager.

They found Arya and Orik along with Ûndin and Gannel at the Gardens surrounding Celbediel. Gannel greeted him first by firmly shaking his hand. "Thank you, Eragon. I had my reservations, but I can see why Hrothgar choose you to join his clan."

"It was nothing," he demurred. Really, he had spoken up without thinking.

"No. That it wasn't. Blessings of Gûntera upon you Rider, and safe journey," he glanced at Helena. "You as well."

"Your welcome, and thank you for your time. It was interesting tour, truly."

Gannel nodded his acceptance and traded places with his fellow Grimstborith.

"I'll try and keep an eye on Az Sweldn rak Anhûin, to make sure they don't start any mischief, even after your adoption comes to light. You may have showed Tarnac your honor, but you also gave your enemies a stronger position by acknowledging their past achievements," Ûndin said.

"I am sorry if I created more trouble for you."

"Nay. You did the right thing, no matter what comes of it. Swift journeys, Eragon, and may your stay with the elves be a productive and peaceful one." He turned to Helena. "And I hope you eventually find a way to contact your home. And no, that doesn't mean we want you gone."

"I've grown on you already," Helena cooed.

"Like a bad rash," Ûndin returned dryly. "Good luck and leave this place with our blessing."

Both clan leaders left them, and Godric and Saphira descended from the sky to pick them up. Arya still joining him on Saphira while Orik went with Helena and Godric.

"We should be able to reach the edge of Du Weldenvarden in two days," Arya told him. "From there we will have to walk. The enchantments over the forest would cause Godric and Saphira to fall from the sky if they tried to fly over without being invited first."

Two days of just flying with Saphira, he thought. Gods, he felt tired. 'Do you think any trouble will find us in the sky, Saphira?'

'Not unless you start arguing with Arya, little one.'

They rose up into the sky and towards the clouds that were growing orange again with the fading daylight.

'Rest little one. None will disturb you here,' Saphira's mind started to cover him like a warm blanket and Eragon soon found himself drifting off to sleep.

AN:
First: Dwarvish sounds nothing like German. Helena just doesn't know many languages and this was the closest comparison in her mind.
Second: The small lemon scene. . . not sure if I will place any others in separate stories, or in this one. But I know this one HAD to be here. Also, if – and this becomes increasingly more likely – there are more lemon's, they will be written from Helena's POV. The Eragon POV is an exception, but well. . . I wanted to show his perspective on everything.
Third: Not sure if I will follow up on the Anhuin clan plot. I have no concrete plans. Don't expect anything.
Fourth: Please leave a review. Both good and bad, their awesome. More than once I have gone over every single review someone left me since chapter one. It is gratifying in a way I can't explain.

Now, I really need to start focusing on my upcoming exams. CHEERS!