*The lethrblaka are the large, black dragon-like creatures that the ra'zac rides. They're also the parents of the ra'zac. They appeared earlier in this fic.
**Hrothgar was a leader of a Dwarven clan, who adopted Orik (who appeared first in "Eragon") as his son. He died in the battle of the Burning Plains because of Murtagh.

**
Chapter twenty-five:
Daybreak
**

Dawn came soft and hued in red, blue and gold. Its light fell across the large camp, tent after fire after tent.

Legolas stretched like a cat and yawned. Gentle rays fell through the fabric of the tent's walls, filling it with a warm glow. In his blankets Eldarion had awoken and started crying. The elf pushed himself up to his elbows and crawled over to the child, lifting him into his arms. "Good morning, little one. Hungry, are you?"

Eldarion tugged at his chest in reply. With the child in the crook of his arm, the elf started searching his pack until he found the bottle he'd been searching for and the newly-refilled reserves of milk. Yesterday he had made sure to have milk for the next two or so days, thanks to the supplies the Varden had granted them with. He had also managed to claim some pieces of linen, of which he planned to make some more clothing for the boy – it could not be that hard to sew, could it?

After feeding and changing the boy's napkins, Legolas put him back on the tent-floor with his toy, letting him play. However Eldarion held his hair in a firm, stubborn grip, preventing Legolas from moving over to wake Aragorn. The man was deeply asleep still, so the elf used his voice to raise him.

"Awake, Aragorn. Aragorn!"

The man grunted and sighed and rolled away, back to wherever dreamscapes he was in.

"Aragorn, it is time for us to wake. The camp has already awakened."

When the man cuddled deeper into his blankets, Legolas rolled his eyes skyward.

"Wake up, my love. The sun has risen … Why do you keep ignoring me?"

There was no reaction at all.

"We're under attack!" the elf cried in his native tongue which also the man knew by heart. He refrained from saying it loudly in the common tongue; he could falsely alert people in other tents. Eldarion stared up at his elven parent with wide eyes.

The cry woke Aragorn - the man sat up, as if shot, gasping in surprise and fumbling after a weapon. It took a moment for him to see Legolas, through sleep-blurred eyes, smirking in front of him. "Legolas Greenleaf! What did you do that for?" He had finally been able to sleep deeply, contently and safely.

"You needed to wake up, so I woke you," Legolas stated. His smirk didn't fade. "The sun has risen and we have slept for many hours. See, even Eldarion is awake." The elf gently took his son's small hand in his own. Eldarion instinctively gripped the elf's long middle-finger, refusing to let that go too.

The king rubbed his eyes with his hand, trying to suppress a yawn. "You gave me a start," he muttered. "Especially when I found no weapons nearby... I thought we were in a fight!"

"The weapons are in the corner of the tent on your left side, if you have to know," the elf informed him. "And no enemies are in sight. Aragorn, once you have dressed, could you go to one of the fires and see if you could find anything to eat? … I cannot move from here myself ..."

As if to prove his point, Eldarion still did not let go of his hair, even if the child had to release his finger to be able to crawl into the kneeling elf's lap instead of sitting on the ground. Once he had settled himself he reached out for his parent's hand and gripped it with his own, beginning to investigate the slim long fingers with his own hands, staring at them with wide eyes. Legolas smiled proudly and let the boy do as he wished. Aragorn laughed.

"All right," he said and untangled himself from the blanket. He leaned over and kissed his husband's face. "I will see what I can find. Has Eldarion eaten yet?"

"How else could he have the energy to try tearing my hand apart?"

xXxXxXx

The camp was bustling with activity. Now with clear morning sunlight, it looked much larger than the day before. There were too many tents and people for him to see the distance but he knew that somewhere north-west about them, the Burning Plains yet glowed and still was covered by bodies and blood and death since the battle.

Aragorn stretched and fletched his arms, stretching the muscle. He felt a bit sore even though not tired anymore. He was growing old … He did not like to be reminded of the fact. However Legolas now and then teased him softly, calling him a child – considering the age difference between them, the elf was very right. Legolas was several times twice his age.

By one of the nearby fires, covered by a kettle with some boiling thin soup, were Elain, Horst and their sons, talking quietly while waiting for the soup, which Elain stirred in now and then. Her face was strained, as if she'd aged. She was due to give birth within two weeks – she was worried, for this was not the place for children.

The ranger joined them and they agreed to let him take some of the soup with him for Legolas. He knew they were still wary about him, and trusted Legolas much more. That was probably thanks to Eldarion, he reflected; Elain had during the battle, and at other times when they weren't near themselves, taken tare of the boy which they were very grateful for. Taking care of a not-even-one-year-old and being pregnant made her tired; Aragorn saw than in her eyes. He would return the favour someday. He was a healer; he could help her deliver her child. Though, he didn't mention that, when he sat down to speak with the smith's family, while waiting for the food.

They talked about everyday things – the family did ask him about him being royalty, when he stood up to leave after having filled two bowls with soup. He raised an eyebrow of surprise; he had not thought that they'd know yet. But they were close to Roran … he must have told them.

"It's true," he said and smiled kindly at their agape faces. "I came to the throne of Gondor just two years ago. But, how did you know? Has word spread to the whole camp?"

"Roran told us," Horst said. "Scarcely could I believe it. I mean … you don't look exactly like a king."

Aragorn glanced down at himself and his battered clothing, before catching himself doing so. "I was a ranger for many, many years before I settled in Minas Tirith – a city in Gondor. Most of my years have I spent travelling across my home-world," he said.

"You didn't grow up in a palace … milord?" Elain asked hesitantly.

"I grew up with the elves."

"That must've been wonderful. I mean," Elain added blushing a little shyly, "Legolas is very fair and kind and very, very beautiful, if you don't mind me saying that, and well, if the elves are like him, it must've been wonderful to live with them."

Aragorn thought of Imradis, his foster-father and the half-elven twins Elladan and Elrohir, his foster-brothers; his first years of childhood had been bliss. It had been bliss until he found out about his heritage and started to feel out of place among both Men and elves. But he smiled. "Yes. It was a wonderful childhood."

Before he turned to leave, he added, "But please, do not call me 'lord'. My name is Aragorn."

xXxXxXx

An hour later, they had eaten, and were sitting in the tent with a kettle of warmed water, and they had undressed to clean themselves. The elf noticed something he had not seen yesterday; a cut along Aragorn's muscled chest, beginning just below where the green-and-silver necklace – that Legolas had given him many years ago - touched his skin and reaching halfway to his navel.

The elf's own skin was unscarred and the injuries he had gained on the journey were almost completely gone, except for the rather large bruise he had received aboard the Dragon Wing. A large, yellow-tinted mark marred his side and thigh.

"How did you get this?" Legolas murmured, trailing the injury along Aragorn's torso. It wasn't deep or bleeding, covered by a thin crust, but the elf silently scolded himself for not noticing it until now.

"A soldier jumped at me from behind," Aragorn admitted. "We stumbled to the ground and I cut myself on his knife. It is a mere scratch. Do not worry, it will heal."

"I should have noticed yesterday," the elf said, shaking his head and he found some rags in his pack, poured some cold water into a bowl and dipped the rag into it, and began to clean the man's wound. Aragorn hissed with sharp pain at the contact.

"You were tired. We both were."

"But still ..." He sighed. "But you are probably right. I was tired."

Both used the rag and the water to wipe off the sweat and dirt from their bodies. Then the elf reached for the man's shirt, frowning at it in displeasure – it was ragged and thorn, and had several cuts and many layers of sweat, dust and dirt on it. Legolas searched through his pack, found at the bottom of it an old shirt he had borrowed from Baldor. It looked it could fit Aragorn well enough. He had to use his old cloak and trousers though. The man didn't protest as the elf dressed him.

"We should find some new clothing … or at least mend and wash those. Your trousers are in a horrible condition."

"Of course. If I remember right, you said I look as if I had fallen into a river of mud."

"When was the last time you actually washed them?" Legolas asked. Come think of it, he had not seen those trousers for a long time before.

"I used them as a ranger last time I wore them," Aragorn offered as information. "But I did have them washed before I came to Alagëasia!"

"Barely noticeable; but then again, I should not be surprised." The elf's own clothing did not look much better than the man's. Only Eldarion's clothing was in an all-right state. They really needed something new, to be presentable later today when meeting Lady Nasuada and King Orrin. They might have passed through many hardships and a long road to get here, but they were King and Prince; they represented their people and homeland – and part of their home-world.

Half-an-hour later they stepped out of the tent. Legolas had tied his now damp but cleaner hair into a knot in the base of his neck. He carried Eldarion, but still wore a knife in his belt. The child as usual was curious and looked around the camp and the many people milling about with wide eyes. Men, women and a handful of children from Carvahall mingled about; soldiers were armoured, women were carrying large bowls of water for the day's use. A fire was lit nearby, and someone was roasting a piece of meat over it, the aroma drifting over to mix with the other various smells and sounds about.

They sough out Roran, asking their way. After some minutes they found him with Jeod in the tradesman's tent. Legolas called out, asking if they could enter.

The tent was larger than their own, but as their own gray hued, without furniture. Packs were lined up against a wall. Roran was pacing back and forth. His face looked haunted; he was thinking about how to rescue Katrina, Legolas realized.

"Legolas, Estel – or maybe I should call you Aragorn? Would you like some tea?" Jeod asked.

Aragorn raised an eyebrow – so Roran had told Jeod whom they were. But the man seemed rather open and comfortable about it, and Aragorn was glad about that. He smiled. "If it were not too much a bother," he replied. "Call me what you feel comfortable with," he added.

"Tea would be welcome," Legolas said. Eldarion did not say anything, just stared at Jeod and then tried to reach out for him.

Jeod smacked his lips. "Who could have thought, we've been travelling with royalty all this time. Yes, Roran has told me. Helen?" he called out.

His wife looked inside the tent. She looked tired and angry; she was carrying a kettle, filled with water. The woman glared at her husband, then lowered her gaze a little realizing they had company. "Yes, dear husband?" she asked frostily.

"Please, Helen, could you make us some tea?"

Silently, angrily, she did as she was told. The silence that fell inside the tent was tense-knitted, and it wasn't until she left again that Jeod spoke up. "My position at the Varden is not as high as she had hoped – I believe she came with me in the belief that lady Nasuada at once would give me a place among her councillors or give me land or riches, as a thank for helping to steal Saphira's egg; not live like a simple warrior, sleeping in tent, cooking your own food. I do love her and I want her happy – but right now, that does not seem possible."

Aragorn nodded. He was cradling the warm cup with both hands. "I understand," he murmured.

"But," Jeod continued with a wry grin. "I assume you did not come to hear about my troubles."

"We wondered what will happen next," Legolas said, and turned to Roran.

"I am going to save Katrina, and Eragon will help me," the man said. His jaw was set firm; his back was straight.

"I do not mean to discourage you, but Lady Nasuada might not let Eragon and Saphira on such a dangerous mission, right in the middle of the Empire – alone and unguarded," Jeod put in.

Legolas sympathized with Roran. "I wish we could help," he said, "But I imagine you desire to go alone with Eragon and save her?" The fewer they were, the more stealthily they could cross the Empire and take Galbatorix by surprise and save the girl who Roran loved so much.

"I don't know," Roran admitted. "I would gladly accept your help, but I can't force you, and it'll be dangerous. Either I will save Katrina or I will die trying. Eragon has promised to help me, and I have promised to help him. We will save Katrina and avenge our father by killing the ra'zac." He looked the elf in the eye. "If we don't succeed we might die … And well, I wouldn't want more people risked than necessary."

The elf nodded. He wanted to aid Roran, for the man had helped him much, by letting him – and Aragorn – to come with them to the Varden. The man could have been much more suspicious of them, and maybe even killed Aragorn; but he had not. He had trusted them, for which Legolas was grateful. He trusted the man in return. If he could help now, he would be returning the favour.

However Aragorn was worried. He was not displeased of Legolas choices, not really; it was only right to help Roran. He had loved Legolas for so long so he was quite aware of what the elf was thinking. And on the Dragon Wing, he had sworn not to ask Legolas to stay away from a battle or the like again, so he could not command Legolas to stay in the camp. The man himself wanted to help Roran. But he was worried, because Legolas would probably get himself into danger, yet again. It was Eldarion, he realized, that worried him. He did not want anything to happen to his child, or his lover and himself so that Eldarion would become alone – an orphan …

Eldarion broke the silence. He was growing bored with the adults' talk, so he twisted in Legolas grasp and tried to reach for something interesting and fun to play with. The nearest thing was the cup of tea in his parent's right hand; the child tugged at its edge, and Legolas was distracted, and could not stop the cup from falling. In the last moment he reacted and managed to catch it, but its hot content spilled over both Roran and himself. Eldarion yelped and then, all of sudden began to laugh. He was obviously very amused by the look on Roran's face.

The elf rolled his eyes at the child.

"I am so sorry-" he began.

Jeod chuckled. "Do not worry. At least you saved the cup." He glanced at the child amusedly. "He must've been bored by us adults."

"I should have left him in the tent," Legolas said but couldn't help grinning. Now he had to wash again and try wipe of his clothing. "Were you burned, Roran?"

"I'm fine. He gave me a start, that's all." The man looked down at his shirt. It was wet, warm and had begun to smell suspiciously like mint.

xXxXxXx

"Foolishness. We cannot let you do this, Eragon!" lady Nasuada exclaimed heatedly.

"I swore to help Roran," Eragon tried to defend himself.

"You promise too much, to the wrong people at the wrong time. If you continue to swear your allegiance to each and everyone, you will be crushed, you know this, Eragon. You must think. All promises cannot be kept."

The Dragon Rider sighed. "I know, milady. But Roran is my cousin, no, he is my brother. And if we can kill the ra'zac, and the lethrblaka, we will have rid the world from one of Galbatorix' most dangerous allies."

He was a bit disappointed to find that Orik – who was yet dull-eyed of sorrow for Hrothgar – took lady Nasuada's side. "She is right, Eragon. You alone in the middle of the Empire – it is far too risky. We cannot risk losing you, for you are the last hope of the Varden."

Then the Dragonrider felt immense relief and other warm, kind, confusing emotions when Arya actually supported his idea, even though vaguely. That she supported him meant the world, or nearly, to Eragon; he did not deny it, to himself at least, he was still smitten even if she had rejected him in Du Weldenvarden when he had been there for training.

"It is a foolish idea mayhap, but Eragon has a valid point. If the ra'zac is gone, it is only to our advantage." But then she began to describe how badly she disliked his plan – even if it was well thought out – and Eragon realized that the more time that passed the less were the chances that he could ever help Roran to find the ra'zac and rescue Katrina, unless he sneaked out of camp at night. With Saphira, that would not be an easy task.

They had been arguing back and forth whole morning. Roran was with the villagers, just waiting for a sign that they'd leave. If Eragorn could not come – if he was forbidden to – Roran would have to go alone. Eragon would never want that. He'd be far too vulnerable, since he knew no magic whatsoever.

Soon their argument was so heated that Saphira interrupted, growing and roaring, almost breaking the tent apart. Then she began to talk, describing a detailed plan with several ways out depending on the situation, on how they would strike Helgrind, kill their enemies and rescue Katrina. It was beyond the details a delightfully head-on plan.

They needed to rescue Katrina, because as long as she was captive she was a weakness to Roran and then through him, Eragon. Galbatorix could use her to manipulate Roran and then also the man's cousin and the Varden might fall inwards. Roran would do anything for Katrina's safety, so if Galbatorix threatened to kill her, he would have no choice but to agree on whatever the demands were. So they needed to save Katrina and hence mend this leak in their defences before Galbatorix used it to his advantage.

If they could eliminate the ra'zac now then they'd gain time, because certainly the creatures had control over some troops and those men would be demoralised.

It was also a good time to do it now, when Galbatorix had his troops on the boarders of Surda. Then he would be unprepared for an attack in the middle of the Empire. Lady Nasuada, Arya and Orik had to agree with that, and they supposed it was best if Eragon and Saphira then flew north to meet up with queen Islanzadí and her elven troops, once they announced their presence and began to attack the Empire's cities.

Saphira choose her words diplomatically. Eragon was patiently silent, sharing her thoughts and thus knowing when to speak up himself. When Saphira said that even if Eragon was forbidden to come, she had decided to follow Roran, claiming it would be a good adventure; Eragon couldn't help the smile that tugged at his lips. Saphira was totally right; she stood under no command but possibly Eragon's and her own. No king, queen, lord or lady could stop her.

Long minutes of tense, pulsating silence passed after the dragon's words. Lady Nasuada's face was unreadable, and Arya's was grave, but yet … It'd be unfair if they stopped me, Eragon could not help from thinking. 'Would you really go with only Roran?' he asked Saphira.

'Certainly. We haven't had a good adventure for a while.'

He reminded her that 'a while' was just a few weeks. She appeared to be smirking in reply.

At last Nasuada spoke up. "Very well, Eragon. I grant your wish. But, if there are any signs of Murtagh – do not face him, but turn back at once to this camp. And after you have rescued Roran's fiancée and killed the ra'zac, you must return at once."

Eragon bowed to her. "Of course, milady."

"And Eragon…" He looked up at her. He had been turning around to leave the tent, his heart beating with joy and relief. He would rescue Katrina, gain Roran's full trust again; they would kill the ra'zac and avenge their father, and give Galbatorix a hard blow in the process. "…Be careful."

xXxXxXx