Chapter 28 – Involved –
The sun had set and darkness was setting in by the time Thorn and Saphira made it to Dale.
Using the bond, Saphira managed to find the large building where Eragon was. It must have once been the seat of power in Dale, before its destruction. She saw a large tent propped up on a terrace that hung high over the lower end of the city, facing the Lonely Mountain. Though elvish soldiers were everywhere throughout the city, they were not in the lower regions. She and Thorn took their chance and made their way towards their riders.
They glided low over the city, claws almost brushing rooftops. Their wings were silent, so fast they were shadows. As they approached, unseen, she could hear Eragona speaking. "I know you wish for an explanation, but I'm afraid we need the input of more involved parties."
Never one to shy away from making a grand entrance, Saphira took this exact moment to sweep up from below the terrace and reveal herself. With wings splayed to catch the air and slow her, she hovered in perfect form, seeming to freeze and be held there. With the lightest touch, her toes hooked on the edge of the terrace and she landed onto all fours directly behind Eragon. Thorn joined her a moment later, having to squeeze next to her where there was little room.
The reaction was immediate, Saphira saw a beautiful humanoid with the scent of elf, his long blonde hair reaching his waist, recoil in horror. She recognised the human man who had shot down Smaug, and he looked up at her with wide eyes, as if he never expected to see her this close. The third was an old man that Saphira remembered from Eragon's memories, a wizard named Gandalf. The old man appeared shocked, but not entirely fearful.
Murtagh was slumped on his knees, head in his hands. Eragon pulled him closer to the dragons as Thorn's head snaked out towards his rider. The red dragon whimpered, pushing his nose into Murtagh's chest, trying to get a response from him. Saphira could feel Thorn's mind trying to wash away the sickness that plagued the mind of his rider.
Saphira could feel Thorn's worry, could even feel the poisoning power inside of Murtagh that was trying to tear his sanity apart from the inside. She was only relieved that Eragon didn't seem to be suffering. But it worried her, that if this gold-sickness could attack the mind of a Rider, especially one with a mental fortitude such as Murtagh's, then what hope was there for others? What of the dwarves, stuck in the mountain? Was the treasure in that mountain truly cursed, and now that it was free to be taken by anyone, would it drive the races of mortals into chaos? For an instant, Saphira almost wished that Smaug occupied the mountain again, at least then these people would be safe from the corrupting power of greed. Perhaps in fulfilling that role, Smaug might have unintentionally been even a force of good rather than ill.
"Eragon," she said. "Use the Name of Names. It might dispel it."
Eragon chewed his lip, and she felt his apprehension. He was loathed to use the name of the Ancient Language, knowing that it was capable of great power. Whoever knew the Name of Names, had mastery over magic itself. But it had no power over wordless spells. She felt his doubt: would it work in this case? What if he couldn't control it? But her rider pushed past such doubts and knelt beside Murtagh, and murmured something in his ear so that no one else could hear it.
Saphira felt the ripple of immense power radiate out from the pair, invisible to any not sensitive to its waves. Gandalf stepped back with a gasp when he felt it. Even the elf Thranduil shivered. But as Saphira had hoped, the word cleared all magic from Murtagh's mind, and he blinked as he returned to full awareness.
It was only then, that Saphira realised that Thranduil had called in a host of his guards, that were now pointing their long spears at the four foreigners. She growled.
"Master Eragon," Thranduil called in a voice that demanded obedience. "You are to explain yourself immediately."
Turning to his audience, Eragon held up his hands. "Please, be at peace. Tell your men to stand down, we mean no harm."
"I find that hard to believe when two dragons stand with you. Their dragon-spell has turned you traitor."
"There is no spell, no deception, no betrayal."
"Eragon speaks the truth," Murtagh called out weakly.
Eragon slowly gestured to each of the dragons. "This is Saphira Brightscales and Thorn the Red."
Saphira reached out to touch the edges of their minds. Though she was completely blocked from entering Gandalf's and Thranduil's completely, she could still reach the edges and so projected her words there. "Well met, good men."
Gasped one of the soldiers. "It speaks to our minds!"
"Do not let its dragon-spell work on you – resist!" Thranduil ordered.
"There is no dragon-spell," Saphira said with a roll of her eyes. "And if you wouldn't mind, I would rather get on with this meeting instead of focusing on this silliness."
"A dragon with a proper sense of priority," Gandalf chuckled, an eager smile hinted at in his long beard. "My, I never thought I'd see a day such as this."
"Nor I." The dragoness turned her blue gaze until her eyes were focused on the old man. "Though we have never met, I know of you, Gandalf the Grey. It is a pleasure to finally meet you. I thank you in bringing Eragon with you in your adventure."
"And now I am civilly conversing with a dragon – Morgoth must be turning in his grave." Gandalf shook his head, but he was grinning now. He bowed to her. "It is an honour to meet you as well, my lady,"
Saphira turned her gaze cautiously to the elf king. "And you are Thranduil, King of the Elves –"
"Do not presume to know me, beast," Thranduil's voice was coated with ice. "I shall not be taken in by your forked tongue."
"And you would do well not to antagonise one who has not burned you – yet." Saphira's threat was real as she felt her ire rise. She was not used to elves treating her this way. In Alagaesia, they practically worshipped the ground she walked on. But she turned away from Thranduil before he could make a retort. She looked to the human man. "And you are the father of the child, Bane?"
"Yes, I am Bard." The man nodded. "I recognise you from the night of the attack. It feels strange to do so, but I must offer you my many thanks, Lady Saphira, for your help in saving my people."
"Is Bane well?" she asked. She hoped the boy was alright.
"He is," Bard said, "and will not stop talking of you with great regard."
"That is good," Saphira felt she could've grinned, her vanity somewhat preened by the words.
"Am I surrounded by fools?" Thranduil asked incredulously. "Have you all forgotten that these are dragons? These creatures are our enemies; they must be slayed!"
"We keep our fangs and claws sheathed," Thorn argued.
"Thranduil," said Gandalf. "They have done nothing to suggest hostility, be reasonable –"
"Do not ask that of me, Mithrandir!" the elf king seemed furious, but Saphira could see such pain in his eyes, he was practically shaking with emotion. "Do not ask me to forgive the horrendous crimes that their kind has done unto me. I shall not! My beloved Calaerdis was destroyed by the flames of their ilk, I do not even have a grave for her because of them!" He turned his hateful gaze onto Saphira and Thorn. "They must be destroyed."
"Thranduil, we were not responsible for what happened to your mate," Saphira spoke before the elvish soldiers had a chance to launch their attack. "I suspect we were not even alive when this tragedy befell you. Please quell the ache in your heart and listen to our words."
Eragon quickly added, "We promise you, we mean no harm. We'll tell you everything you wish to know."
"Then tell us the answer to the riddle you pose: who are you really?" Gandalf asked.
"I am Eragon Shadeslayer, Bromson, Kingkiller." Eragon began. "Murtagh and I hail from a far off land known as Alagaesia. There we are part of an ancient order of peace keepers, the Dragon Riders."
"There is no such thing," Thranduil retorted.
Bard also appeared disbelieving. "Dragons would never allow themselves to be ridden by mere mortals, they despise us."
"We are bound," Saphira explained. "Powerful magic connects us as one. Eragon and I are partners."
Murtagh nodded, "As Thorn and I are."
"Why are you here?" Bard asked.
"Murtagh, Thorn and I sailed here in search of Saphira," said Eragon. "She had fled here earlier in the year –"
"Ah, so you are the mysterious dragon I have heard so much about." Gandalf interrupted as he looked up at Saphira with great curiosity. "You've been living alongside Smaug?"
Saphira shuffled her wings uncomfortably. "At first it was not of my own will –"
"She is the mate of Smaug," Thranduil cut in. "If she is associated with him, we cannot trust her. What is to say that she doesn't have her companions under her spell, working to achieve her own ends?"
Eragon's voice was placating. "Your Majesty, the love that Saphira and I –"
"Do not speak to me of love and dragons in the same sentence!" Thranduil hissed. "They know nothing of it! A dragon is a vicious beast forged of malice and evil. They care only for themselves and their constant consuming greed. A dragon cannot feel love, they cannot comprehend it – to them, it isn't real!"
"Thranduil, please! Let us tell you our tale, then you can cast your judgement on us." Murtagh said loudly, demanding the others listen to him. His strength was returning quickly.
"Beware," Saphira whispered into the minds of her companions, careful to make sure no one else would overhear them. "Do not tell them of my hatchlings. If Thranduil is this openly hostile to us, I do not wish him to know of them. He would kill them. And he will most certainly dismiss everything we say if he finds out I bore Smaug's children – further proof of our allegiance to him."
"How is it that such a thing as dragon riders can even exist?" Gandalf asked to break the heavy silence that had fallen. "Dragons have always hated the free peoples."
"For that explanation, we would need to give you a very long history lesson," Eragon murmured as he scratched the back of his neck.
"Then please do."
"In our land, elves were once at war with dragons," Eragon began the tale. "They slaughtered each other in droves, and would have killed each other, had it not been for an unlikely alliance. An elf boy found an abandoned dragon egg. He raised the dragon, and the two grew close. The pair acted as mediators and brought peace between the two warring races. When the war finally ended, a pact was formed. Each year the dragons would give one or two of their eggs, and a spell would be cast over it. The hatchling inside would then only hatch when it had chosen the one whom it wanted as its rider."
Murtagh stood to his wobbly feet and continued for him. "Once a dragon hatches for its rider, the two are bound together. The rider is given the dragon's speed and strength eventually, as well as their connection to magic. The dragon is linked intimately to the rider's mind, and the pair learn to be one. The mark of the rider can be seen on their hands in a silver mark. Like this,"
Both Eragon and Murtagh revealed their hands that held the silver mark of the Gedwey Ignasia. Their audience stared wide eyed at them.
Gandalf seemed mesmerised. "Such extraordinary magic… I have never seen its like…"
"And how do we know that any of this is true? What proof do we have that your honour is valid?" Bard asked.
"What reason would we have to lie?" Murtagh countered.
"The dragon riders are peacekeepers," Eragon said. "It is our sworn duty to uphold peace and bring the wicked to justice."
"That may be so in your own lands, but those rules do not apply here." Bard shook his head.
Eragon's stare was unwavering. "We cannot walk away when we might be able to do something."
"Not matter how foolish…" Murtagh murmured.
"And so you are here now to settle this dispute between us and the dwarves," Thranduil said with a rather emotionless mask of indifference on his face.
"This war you fight is senseless. Doing such things for greed is unethical. That gold cannot pay for the lives you will lose in this fight," Saphira said.
"We do not intend to lose any soldiers." Thranduil took a long sip of his wine. "We have the dwarves outnumbered. If they come to their senses, then we shall avoid bloodshed all together."
"And what of the Orcs?" Saphira argued. "Gandalf is correct; their threat is very real."
Gandalf sighed in relief. "Thank you, my lady."
"And where do you fit into all of this?" Bard asked Eragon. "What side do you take?"
"We shall take no side. However, we will do whatever it takes to stop this." Saphira admired the righteous determination in her rider's voice.
"So you would have us completely abandon our senses?" Thranduil lifted a brow. "The people of Lake Town need gold in order to rebuild their homes, the dwarves stole precious heirlooms of my people that I will now see returned."
"Thranduil, you will have none of that if you continue down this path." The grey wizard looked particularly distressed.
"Gandalf, we have no choice," Bard said.
"The bowman speaks correctly," Thranduil's voice was cold and unfeeling. "We proceed."
"Since when has my council counted for so little?" Gandalf demanded, seeming to become incensed. "What do you think I'm trying to do?"
"I think you're trying to save your dwarvish friends," the elf shrugged. "And I admire your loyalty to them. But it does not dissuade me from my course." He stood, going towards Gandalf though his voice remained removed. "You started this, Mithrandir. You will forgive me if I finish it!"
Saphira wondered if Thranduil had cut himself off from them entirely. He seemed emotionless, cold, but just below the surface she could feel all the grief and hurt inside of him. Was he once an honourable and reasonable man, but fate and life had turned him into this?
Gandalf strode towards Eragon. "Please, Master Eragon, you won't allow them to do this, will you? You gave me your word!"
"That's true," Eragon murmured. "And Murtagh and I will do our best, but we're not sure if even Thorin will listen to us. When last we spoke, we were not on good terms."
"Bowman!" Gandalf cried, going after Bard desperately. "Do you agree with this? Is gold so important to you? Would you buy it with the blood of dwarves?"
"It will not come to that." Bard said, though Saphira could tell that he was saying it more to convince himself. "This is a fight they cannot win."
"That won't stop them." Came a new voice. Saphira and the others all snapped their heads as a little figure appeared as if out of nowhere. "You think the dwarves will surrender? They won't. They will fight to the death to defend their own!"
"Bilbo Baggins!" Gandalf beamed.
Saphira leaned down her head beside her rider as she watched the newcomer. She remembered him, the little hobbit that had earned her respect. "This one makes a habit out of popping up like this?"
Eragon smiled. "That he does…"
Bilbo was welcomed into the tent, and he appeared happy to see Gandalf. However, when he came almost nose to nose with Saphira, and then noticed Thorn, he stopped himself abruptly short, face turning white.
"Oooooh! Two dragons," he yelped, shuffling back. "Uh, sorry, I just… had hoped not to see dragons again for some time."
"Do not be afraid," Saphira said to him softly. "We have not had a chance to talk properly before. I am Saphira, you have my thanks for all that you have done."
"Oh, well, good to finally see a dragon with a sense of manners." The hobbit smiled, before bowing hastily as he remembered his manners. "Bilbo Baggins, at your service."
"If I'm not mistaken," Thranduil cocked a brow. "This is the Halfling who stole the keys to my dungeons from under the nose of my guards."
There was a long silence. Bilbo looked at his large, hairy feet as if they were the most interesting thing in the world.
"Yeeeeeeeeees," he mumbled slowly. "Sorry about that."
Saphira couldn't help but make her growling laugh. "Oh, and he's amusing. I like him."
Eragon grinned at her. "I thought you would."
"Anyway, I came to give you this." Bilbo placed a pouch onto the table in the centre of their group. Slowly he folded back the layers of cloth, until he slowly revealed a glowing stone.
Saphira felt her heart skip a beat, her eyes widening. She recognised it. It was the same jewel that her hatchlings had used to give her strength when rescuing Smaug. Even now she could feel the energy radiating like a sun out from the Arkenstone. Yes, that was what it was, she remembered now. The three leaders crowded around the table, their eyes wide with awe.
"The Heart of the Mountain…"Thranduil whispered in wonder. "The King's Jewel…"
"And worth a King's ransom…" Bard frowned at Bilbo. "How is this yours to give?"
"I took it as my fourteenth share of the treasure," Bilbo said.
"How?" Eragon asked.
"Whilst you were busy entertaining Smaug in the treasure chamber, I saw it." The hobbit shuffled his feet. "When we went back to the Mountain, I picked it up."
Eragon grinned. "You little sneak."
"Why would you do this?" Bard asked, astounded. "You owe us no loyalty."
"I'm not doing it for you." Bilbo shook his head. He then looked up at Thranduil and Bard, his brown eyes seeming to beg them. "I know that dwarves can be obstinate, and pig-headed, difficult, they're suspicious and secretive – with the worst manners you can possibly imagine. But they are also brave, and kind… and loyal to a fault."
"As are you, Bilbo Baggins." Saphira's warm voice echoed through his mind, causing him to look up from where he had been staring at his feet. "Your shortness doesn't fool me. For all that you've done, you have shown bravery and love the likes of which is the envy of the world. Despite your stature, you have the heart of a dragon in you. The dwarves are lucky to have you."
"I've grown very fond of them, and I would save them if I can." Bilbo continued, emboldened by Saphira's words. He pointed to the jewel on the table as he stared up at Thranduil. "Now, Thorin values this stone above all else. In exchange for its return, I believe he will give you what you are owed. There will be no need for war."
"Now, wouldn't you agree that this is a more pleasant alternative then war?" Eragon asked with a smile.
"As you wish." Thranduil nodded, before turning to his soldiers. "Prepare the men, we make the ransom in the morning."
"Very well done, Bilbo!" Gandalf said as Bard and Thranduil left. But then the wizard's expression turned very serious. "But tomorrow, you must go. Get as far away from here as you can."
"Leave? No!" Bilbo squeaked. "You picked me as the fourteenth man – I'm not about to leave the company now!"
"There is no company, not anymore." Saphira could see the shadows growing in Gandalf's eyes, something truly did frighten him. "And I wouldn't like to think of what Thorin will do once he's realised what you've done."
Bilbo crossed his arms defiantly. "I'm not afraid of Thorin."
"If it would help, Gandalf, we will protect him." Eragon offered.
"No! I must go back," Bilbo said. "I can't abandon them now. I am willing to face Thorin, whatever may come."
"Bilbo, don't underestimate the evil of gold. Gold over which a serpent has long brooded. Dragon-sickness seeps into the hearts of all those who come near this Mountain." He then smiled at Bilbo knowingly. "Well, almost all."
The wizard's words stuck in Saphira's mind, and once again she found herself wondering whether this gold was worth so much blood.
Bilbo was still prepared to argue. "But I –"
"Go and rest. I'll see to it that all is well." Gandalf reassured him.
Bilbo hesitated, not wanting to leave this argument unresolved. But he eventually gave in. Saphira watched him go as he drifted back into the darkness.
Gandalf came towards the two riders, sighing sadly. "I thank you, Eragon and Murtagh, though you are full of surprises, you have come through for us. And I thank you as well, Thorn and Saphira, you have given an old man reason to hope."
"Hope is a rare commodity in these dark days. Hold onto it well." Saphira told him.
She and Thorn leaned down close to the ground, allowing Eragon and Murtagh to swing themselves up into place on their shoulders. Gandalf watched them, as if astonished that he was seeing such a feat.
Murtagh gave Gandalf one final nod of respect. "Should the battle commence; we shall see you there."
"Farewell to you all." Gandalf said.
"May the sun and wind always be at your back," Thorn's musical voice rang out before he turned and fell from the terrace edge, Saphira followed a second later. They snapped open their wings to catch the air, saving them from a deadly impact with the ground below. Shooting upwards, they were quickly lost in the clouds and invisible to all. Angling themselves south, they flew back towards their old campsite, Saphira taking the lead, wanting to be reunited with her offspring.
