Chapter Thirty-Six: Argetlam
She felt stiff from sitting so long and stretched a bit, stepping aside as the Twins brushed past her and Eragon. They entered Ajihad's study and closed the door.
"Arûna uul akh uulz aturga ā ōr chwaer. Ōr môgh uul hurnden. Delva."
Mariah looked up at her brother speaking to Orik in the hall. The dwarf listened to him speak and stood looking up at him. After a few moments of silence, he spoke, "Your Dwarvish is quite terrible."
Mark broke into a grin, "I assumed as much."
"No thanks is needed and you bear no debt to me for saving your sister."
"You still have my gratitude," Mark said, inclining his head. "I don't know what I would do without her."
He stood straight again, glancing down the hall at Mariah and Eragon. They walked to Orik and Eragon spoke, "I'm sorry that you're in trouble because of us."
"Don't bother yourself," grunted Orik, tugging on his beard. "Ajihad gave me what I wanted."
Mariah exchanged glances with Eragon. "What do you mean? You can't train or fight, and you're stuck guarding us. How can that be what you wanted?" She asked.
"Ajihad is a good leader. He understands how to keep the law yet remain just. I have been punished by his command, but I'm also one of Hrothgar's subjects. Under his rule, I'm still free to do what I wish."
Eragon blinked, "Ajihad just placed you in a powerful position, didn't he?"
Orik chuckled deeply. "That he did, and in such a way that the Twins can't complain about it. This'll irritate them for sure. Ajihad's a tricky one, he is. Come, I'm sure you're hungry. And we have to get your dragons settled in."
Saphira hissed. Eragon said, "Her name is Saphira."
Orik made a small bow to her. "My apologies, I'll be sure to remember that. And?" He looked at Mariah. "I heard Ajihad say Istalri."
"It is the elvish word for flame. That is what I have been calling him… however he's open to changing it."
The dwarf blinked. "He hasn't chosen a name?"
"He's fickle like that…"
"Might I make a suggestion then?" Orik asked, looking at the red-orange dragon who bowed his head slightly. "Your scales are the color of red garnet gemstones. Andradite is what we sometimes call it… Andrar is the name I would suggest."
The dwarf's logic is plain enough, however I do like it.
More so than what I call you now?
…yes, very much so.
Very well then, Mariah looked at Orik. "He appreciates your suggestion and accepts."
The dwarf looked pleased with himself. He took an orange lamp from the wall and led them down the hallway.
"Can others in Farthen Dûr use magic?" asked Eragon, struggling to keep up with the dwarf's brisk pace. He cradled Zar'roc carefully, concealing the symbol on the sheath with his arm.
"Few enough," said Orik with a swift shrug under his mail. "And the ones we have can't do much more than heal bruises." Mariah sighed inwardly, realizing she wasn't about to get any healing training here. "They've all had to tend to Arya because of the strength needed to heal her."
"Except for the Twins," Mark observed.
"Oeí," grumbled Orik. "She wouldn't want their help anyway; their arts are not for healing. Their talents lie in scheming and plotting for power – to everyone else's detriment. Deynor, Ajihad's predecessor, allowed them to join the Varden because he needed their support… you can't oppose the Empire without spellcasters who can hold their own on the field of battle. They're a nasty pair, but they do have their uses."
They entered one of the four main tunnels that divided Tronjheim. Clusters of dwarves and humans strolled through it, voices echoing loudly off the polished floor. The conversations stopped abruptly as they saw the dragons; scores of eyes fixed on her. Orik ignored the spectators and turned left, heading toward one of Tronjheim's distant gates.
Mariah asked, "Where are we going?"
"Out of these halls so Saphira and Andrar can fly up to the dragonhold above Isidar Mithrim, the Star Rose. The dragonhold doesn't have a roof – Tronjheim's peak is open to the sky, like that of Farthen Dûr – so they, that is, you, Saphira and Andrar, will be able to glide straight down into the hold. It is where the Riders used to stay when they visited Tronjheim."
"Won't it be cold and damp without a roof?" asked Eragon.
"Nay." Orik shook his head. "Farthen Dûr protects us from the elements. Neither rain nor snow intrude here. Besides, the hold's walls are lined with marble caves for dragons. They provide all the shelter necessary. All you need fear are the icicles; when they fall they've been known to cleave a horse in two."
Mark choked slightly from behind her and she knew his mind had flicked instantly to Aluora. "Where are the horses?"
"In the stables by the gate. We can visit them before leaving Tronjheim."
He led the way to the stables. As soon as Mark spotted his mare he rushed past Orik and hugged her, stroking her neck, whispering in her ear to calm her down.
"He needs to stop with that…" Mariah muttered. "All anyone would ever have to do is capture her and hold her at knife point for him to do as he wanted…" Eragon chuckled a bit, patting Cadoc on the nose.
The white stallion snorted and counted upon seeing Mariah. She smiled and ran her hand down his neck. "Hey Snowfire. How are you?" He nickered and snorted again, blowing her hair back. She turned her gaze over to Tornac and walked to him carefully. The gray horse threw his head back, whinnying. "Mor'ranr…" she said quietly. "It's all right… I'm not gonna hurt you." The stallion trotted in place and then stopped, looking at her through shining black eyes. Once he'd calmed down, she pressed her hand against his nose, "You're all right."
"Where are we going next?" Mark asked.
"The banquet halls."
"After that?"
"He wants to stay with his horse," Mariah said. "He doesn't like to be parted with her."
"The stables are the best place for her to stay. I'm sure she is tired from your long journey." Orik said to him.
"C'mon Mark… I'm hungry and I'm tired… please?"
He sighed a little, kissing Aluora's nose and going back to Mariah. "All right, let's go then."
They exited Tronjheim through the same gate they had entered. The gold griffins gleamed with colored highlights garnered from scores of lanterns. The sun had moved during their talk with Ajihad – light no longer entered Farthen Dûr through the crater opening. Without those moted rays, the inside of the hollow mountain was velvety black. The only illumination came from Tronjheim, which sparkled brilliantly in the gloom. The city-mountain's radiance was enough to brighten the ground hundreds of feet away.
Orik pointed at Tronjheim's white pinnacle. "Fresh meat and pure mountain water await you up there," he told the dragons. "You may stay in any of the caves. Once you make your choice, bedding will be laid down in it and then no one will disturb you."
"I thought we were going to go together. I don't want to be separated," protested Eragon.
Orik turned to him. "Rider Eragon, I will do everything to accommodate you, but it would be best if Saphira waits in the dragonhold while you eat. The tunnels to the banquet halls aren't large enough for her to accompany us."
"Why can't you just bring me food in the hold?"
"Because," said Orik with a guarded expression, "the food is prepared down here, and it is a long way to the top. If you wish, a servant could be sent up to the hold with a meal for you. It will take some time, but you could eat with Saphira then."
After a moment's pause, he said to Orik, "I'll eat down here." The dwarf smiled, seeming satisfied.
"Good, because I was about to let you go by yourself." Mariah said, removing her dragon's saddle, tying her sword to it, realizing she probably shouldn't carry it around with her in front of everyone. "Then I would have been bored without you." Andrar, she paused, finding the name strange.
Yes? Her dragon lowered his head to her, I do like that name better. It is more refined than your previous name for me.
Very well then, you fickle dragon. Andrar, will you be all right with Saphira in the hold?
Of course. I'm ready for a rest after all our traveling.
I will come see you after we eat.
Enjoy your time this evening, you have earned every moment. Andrar took his saddle into his front paws and lurched into the sky after Saphira. The steady whoosh of dragon wings was the only sound in the darkness.
As they disappeared over the rim of Tronjheim's peak, Orik let out a long breath. "Ah, you have been blessed indeed. I find a sudden longing in my heart for open skies and soaring cliffs and the thrill of hunting like a hawk. Still, my feet are better on the ground – preferably under it."
"Flying's not all it appears to be. Those without wings were not meant to fly," Mark said, chuckling.
Orik clapped his hands loudly. "I neglect my duties as host. I know you've not dined since that pitiful dinner the Twins saw fit to give you, so come, let's find the cooks and beg meat and bread from them!"
They followed the dwarf back into Tronjheim and through a labyrinth of corridors until they came to a long room filled with rows of stone tables only high enough for dwarves. Fires blazed in soapstone ovens behind a long counter.
Orik spoke words in Dwarvish to a stout ruddy-faced dwarf, who promptly handed them stone platters piled with steaming mushrooms and fish. Then Orik took them up several flights of stairs and into a small alcove carved out of Tronjheim's outer wall, where they sat cross-legged.
Mariah sighed as she sat down and reached for her food silently, glad to finally eat something that wasn't stale bread. She glanced at her brother and let the silence fill the air between them all. Orik seemed content not speaking and she took it upon herself to pry into her brother's mind.
Stop it. I'll talk with you later. When we are alone. Please just relax for now.
Sighing inwardly, she ate her meal in peace. When their platters were empty, Orik sighed with contentment and pulled out a long-stemmed pipe. He lit it saying, "A worthy repast, though it needed a good draught of mead to wash it down properly."
Eragon surveyed the ground below. "Do you farm in Farthen Dûr?"
"No, there's only enough sunlight for moss, mushrooms, and mold. Tronjheim cannot survive without supplies from the surrounding valleys, which is one reason why many of us choose to live elsewhere in the Beor Mountains."
"Then," Mariah said, "There are other dwarf cities?" Mark leaned stood and leaned against the wall, looking over the edge.
"Not as many as we would like. And Tronjheim is the greatest of them." Leaning on an elbow, Orik took a deep pull on his pipe. "You have only seen the lower levels, so it hasn't been apparent, but most of Tronjheim is deserted. The farther up you go, the emptier it gets. Entire floors have remained untouched for centuries. Most dwarves prefer to dwell under Tronjheim and Farthen Dûr in the caverns and passageways that riddle the rock. Through the centuries we have tunneled extensively under the Beor Mountains. It is possible to walk from one end of the mountain range to the other without ever stepping foot on the surface."
"It seems like a waste to have all that unused space in Tronjheim," commented Eragon.
Orik nodded. "Some have argued for abandoning this place because of its drain on our resources, but Tronjheim does perform one invaluable task."
"What's that?"
"In times of misfortune it can house our entire nation. There have been only three instances in our history when we have been forced to that extreme, but each time it has saved us from certain and utter destruction. That is why we always keep it garrisoned, ready for use."
"Even through all our travels, I have never seen anything so breathtaking," Mariah said, looking across the city.
Orik smiled around his pipe. "I'm glad you find it so. It took generations to build Tronjheim – and our lives are much longer than those of men. Unfortunately, because of the cursed Empire, few outsiders are allowed to see its glory."
"How many Varden are here?" Eragon asked.
"Dwarves or humans?"
"Humans – I want to know how many have fled the Empire."
Orik exhaled a long puff of smoke that coiled lazily around his head. "There are about four thousand of your kin here. But that's a poor indicator of what you want to know. Only people who wish to fight come here. The rest of them are under King Orrin's protection in Surda."
Mariah glanced at Eragon's face, watching his expression drop. She remembered Murtagh telling them that the royal army alone numbered nearly sixteen thousand, when it was fully marshaled, not counting the Urgals.
"Why doesn't Orrin fight the Empire himself?" Eragon asked.
"If he were to show open hostility," said Orik, "Galbatorix would crush him. As it is, Galbatorix withholds that destruction because he considers Surda a minor threat, which is a mistake. It's through Orrin's assistance that the Varden have most of their weapons and supplies. Without him, there would be no resisting the Empire.
"Don't despair over the small number of humans in Tronjheim. There are many dwarves here – many more than you have seen – and all will fight when the time comes. Orrin has also promised us troops for when we battle Galbatorix. The elves pledged their help as well."
Mariah listened and thought. Now that they had arrived in the Varden, they were expected to fight alongside them. She had known the day would come, however now that it was in front of her, she didn't know what to think. Part of her just wanted to flee all together, taking Mark, Eragon, Andrar and Saphira with her. But the stronger part of her, the part of her she knew was Brom's blood and teachings, wanted to fight and destroy the Empire. The people here deserved to be free and not live in fear. As a Rider, it was her duty to help them.
"What does that mean?" Eragon asked, snapping her attention back to the conversation at hand. "I saw it on the floor of Tronjheim."
Orik lifted the iron-bound cap off his head and brushed a rough finger over the hammer and stars engraving. "It is the symbol of my clan. We are the Ingeitum, metalworkers and master smiths. The hammer and stars are inlaid into Tronjheim's floor because it was the personal crest of Korgan, our founger. One clan to rule, with twelve surrounding. King Hrothgar is Dûrgrimst Ingeitum as well and has brought my house much glory, much honor."
The dwarf stood and collected his platter. Mariah followed, calling to Mark. He trailed behind the group as they returned the platters to the cook. As they walked, they passed a dwarf in the hall. He stopped before Eragon, bowed, and said respectfully, "Argetlam." He looked up and did the same to Mariah.
She blushed at the action and found her voice. "Delva," she said, remembering how Mark kept thanking everyone, smiling and inclining her head. He looked surprised for a moment before walking away.
"What did he say?" Eragon asked, flushed and stuttering for an answer.
Mark clapped him on his shoulder, "It's an elven word that was used to refer to the Riders. It means 'silver hand.' Get used to it; you'll probably be hearing it a lot." He walked past them to drop off his plates with the cook.
Eragon glanced at his gloved hand and Mariah flexed her fingers nervously as her silver palm tingled.
"Do you wish to return to Saphira and Andrar?" Orik asked.
"Ah… well," Mariah paused, still blushing slightly. "Is there somewhere I can find a change of clothes?"
"At the very least. We've been traveling for a long time and haven't had an opportunity to wash off the grime from the road," Mark said.
Eragon looked at the dwarf, "Also, my shirt is blood-stained and torn. I'd like to replace it, but I don't have any money to buy a new one. Is there a way I could work for one?"
"Do you seek to insult Hrothgar's hospitality, Eragon?" demanded Orik. "As long as you are in Tronjheim, you won't have to buy a thing. You'll pay for it in other ways – Ajihad and Hrothgar will see to that. Come. I'll show you where to wash, then fetch you all a change of clothes."
He took them down a long staircase until they were well below Tronjheim. The corridors were tunnels now – which cramped them because they were only five feet high – and all the lanterns were red. "So the light doesn't blind you when you leave or enter a dark cavern," explained Orik.
The entered a bare room with a small door on the far side. Orik pointed. "The pools are through there, along with brushes and soap. Leave your clothes here. I'll have new ones waiting when you get out."
Mark paused, looking at his sister.
"Ah, of course, Mariah, please, come this way." Orik said, turning and walking her back out into the hall, down a few more feet to another room. "I will have clothes sent for you and meet you in the hall when you are finished."
"Thank you." She said, watching him leave. Mariah sighed and undressed, kicking her boots off as she started pulling her tunic over her head. She stripped her leggings and shivered. Unable to see well in the dim light, she muttered a spell, "Brisingr, iet tauthr." A small flame burst into being near her and she hurried through the small door. Carefully, she slipped one foot into the pool of water. It was extremely warm. With a sigh, she slid into the water, glancing at the fire to make sure it stayed above her. Mariah quickly realized the water was only high enough to reach her waist and quickly let her legs give from beneath her so she was submerged.
She could taste some salt in the water but it wasn't unpleasant. Surfacing, she looked around and found the soap, quickly setting to cleaning herself. More than once she winced at bruises and scratches still on her skin from the fight with the Urgals and the days prior. Running her fingers through her hair, Mariah untangled the strands and washed it twice before she felt anywhere near clean. When she was finished, she removed herself from the pool, instantly missing the warmth of the water.
Quickly, she walked into the lighted room, extinguishing her fire light. Standing in the room was a small girl, no more than ten. "Hello." Mariah said, surprised. Shivering, she looked around and found a towel, wrapping it around herself.
"Argetlam…" she said in a whisper.
"What's your name?"
"Catherine." Again, in a whisper.
"Well, Catharine. I would be happy if you called me Mariah." She smiled at the blond haired girl.
Her eyes lit up and she smiled at her. "How did a lady get to be a Rider, Mariah? My brothers always told me that girls weren't allowed."
"That's nonsense. They must have been teasing you." She realized that the girl was holding a bundle of cloth. "Are those for me?"
"Oh, yes!" She said. "I came to help you dress."
Mariah blinked, finding no good reason for the girl to assist her. Then she unfolded the bundle she had and she realized why. It was a dress. Why they would send a dress for her, she had no idea. She hadn't been wearing one upon her arrival.
"Oh… well. Thank you," she said, not about to argue with the little girl, deciding to address the situation later. She took the white dress that was supposed to be worn underneath, pulling it on before Catharine handed her the long red gown and she slipped it over her body. It fit quite well, thankfully. Turning around she sat carefully on the floor, splaying the skirts out and allowing Catharine to lace the back up tightly. When she was finished, she handed Mariah a pair of black heeled shoes.
"These are for when you wish to go to sleep. So you do not have to sleep in your dress." The girl handed her a white shirt and loose breeches.
"You've been very helpful Catharine. Tell your brothers I said hello."
"I will!" She said, smiling and walking out into the tunnel. Mariah followed after her, watching her recede up the staircase.
When Mark spotted her his mouth instantly twisted into a grin and he turned his head, trying not to laugh.
"Stop." She insisted, walking over to Mark, Eragon and Orik. Her heels clicked at every step.
The dwarf looked at her, speaking past his pipe, "What?"
"Oh," she blushed, "I… I do not favor dresses. That is all. I prefer breeches and a shirt. But it's alright."
"I believe the color suits you, though I will keep that in mind for the future."
"Thank you," she smiled, catching Eragon staring at her. "What?" She asked as she followed up the stairs behind Orik, nearly tripping.
"I don't think I've ever seen you in a dress. It's weird," he said simply.
"Well, don't get used to it." Mariah told him, stopping on the stairs, shoving her other set of clothing at her brother to carry. With her hands free now, she picked up her skirts so she could stop stepping on them and continued after the dwarf faster. When they exited the mountain-city, she called to Andrar with her mind.
As he flew down from the dragonhold, Eragon asked, "How do you communicate with people at the top of Tronjheim?"
Orik chuckled. "That's a problem we solved long ago. You didn't notice, but behind the open arches that line each level is a single, unbroken staircase that spirals around the wall of Tronjheim's central chamber. The stairs climb all the way to the dragonhold above Isidar Mithrim. We call it Vol Turin, The Endless Staircase. Running up or down it isn't swift enough for an emergency, nor convenient enough for casual use. Instead, we use flashing lanterns to convey messages. There is another way too, though it is seldom used. When Vol Turin was constructed, a polished trough was cut next to it. The trough acts as a giant slide as high as a mountain."
Eragon's lips twitched with a smile. "Is it dangerous?"
Mariah flashed him a glare as Orik said, "Do not think of trying it. The slide was built for dwarves and is too narrow for a man. If you slipped out of it, you could be thrown onto the stairs and against the arches, perhaps even into empty space."
The dragons landed softly a spear's throw away, scales rustling dryly. Andrar folded his wings and snorted toward his Rider, who was in a dress. He turned his head away quickly and she glared. Not you too!
Human and dwarves trickled out of Tronjheim, gathering around them with murmurs of interest. Mariah swallowed at the growing crowd and heard Orik speak from behind her. "You'd better go. Meet me by this gate tomorrow morning. I'll be waiting."
"How will I know when it's morning?" Eragon balked.
"I'll have someone wake you. Now go!"
She didn't need another command. Sweeping up her dress in her fists, she hurried to Andrar, Mark on her heels. He assisted her onto his back and climbed up behind her, wrapping an arm around her waist as much for his own safety as hers before Andrar flicked out his wings sharply. People crowded nearby backed away with a gasp as he lurched off the ground into the air.
Mark glanced backward, "Looks like Eragon got stuck dealing with the crowd."
"It's his own fault for being slow."
"Still can't believe they got you in a dress."
"Hush, brother."
Andrar glided over the rim of the dragonhold and dropped to Isidar Mithrim. Mark slipped off his back and helped Mariah down, sighing, glad to be out of the air. The room was round, roofless, sixty feet high and sixty feet across. The walls were lined with the dark openings of caves, which differed in size from grottoes no larger than a man to a gaping cavern larger than a house. Shiny rungs were set into the marble walls so that people could reach the highest caves. An enormous archway led out of the dragonhold.
"Mark, can you unlace this damn thing?"
He chuckled, "Of course. And tomorrow we'll find you something more comfortable to wear." Mark nimbly set to work pulling the cord away from her back, through all the small holes. When he was finished, he handed her the second set of clothing she'd been given. Andrar flicked his wing over and around her so she could change in seclusion.
"I don't know if I like being so high," Mark said aloud so she could hear him.
She struggled out of her dress, "Well, I like it much better up here than down there with all those people staring at me."
"Mariah, you know how much everything's changed now. Don't you?"
Walking out from behind the red wing, she blinked at him. "Yes. Of course I do. Fate has made my life impossible to be my own. I have to be responsible for everyone now, not just myself."
"And you are not yet sixteen… none of this should have fallen upon your shoulders, sister."
"You wouldn't make much of a Rider Marcus," she pointed out, folding her dresses together and looking at her dragon. "Where are we sleeping?"
You may sleep beside me here, he said, leaping up to a large cavern spacey enough for him to stretch his wings. Mariah climbed up the rungs to him. The cave was deeper than she had expected. The roughly chiseled walls gave the impression of a natural formation. Near the far wall was a thick cushion large enough for Andrar to curl up on. Beside it was a bed built into the side of the wall. The cave was lit by a single red lantern equipped with a shutter so its glow could be muted. Mariah sat down beside Andrar, allowing her legs to dangle over the edge of his cavern. She watched as Eragon and Saphira flew up finally.
As soon as he had dismounted from her back, Eragon spun slowly in a circle, looking up. Once he'd taken that in, he looked straight down at the giant star sapphire beneath his feet. Half a moment later he was laying face down on it, trying to look through the gem.
Mark walked over to him, his arms folded. "What are you doing?"
He jumped up and blinked, "Nothing."
"Thought so." Mark ruffled Eragon's blond hair up harshly, shaking his head. "What did you do down there?"
"Ah… nothing."
"…right. Mariah, are you going to sleep now?"
"No," she called down. "I wish to stay up a little longer."
Eragon shrugged, climbing up to Saphira. "We'll I'm tired. So I'm going to sleep… good night."
"Night Eragon," she called, smiling at him. Mark said nothing for a while and she simply sat with Andrar until they knew Eragon was asleep. She reached over and climbed back down the ladder, walking barefoot over to her brother across the jewel. "You have to tell me… everything."
"Not everything."
"Tell me what you can then, please."
"Start questioning."
"Did you know we were coming here?"
"Yes. In a way."
"Why are you hiding things from me?"
"Because Brom made me promise before he died. In the Ancient Language, so I cannot speak to you about it."
"He was thorough then."
"Extremely."
"What are we doing here?"
"The plan was to find the Varden or go to the elves in Du Weldenvarden. Brom hinted their queen might be reluctant to allow you to leave. They desperately wanted the Riders to be elves. I thought it best to find the Varden first… they seemed more… relaxed about having you, probably because you're human. Here, we are safer from Galbatorix than anywhere else. Brom told us to find them, so we have. During our travels here, we have rescued an elf, who seems to be of some influence and made friends with the son of an enemy. Both are beneficial in their own way. We arrived here on good terms with the leader – Ajihad. We didn't even have to go through the mind searching the Twins were imposing… at least, I didn't."
"You know more than me. I knew that when I told him not to probe your mind."
Mark twitched a smile, "Thank you. And please refrain from trusting them at all, I can't help but feel like they're trouble. And since they're the only powerful magicians here… they hold more power than they should. From here, we mostly do as we're told. We are not servants to these people, especially not you. As a Rider you are free to make your own choices… do not let them influence you. Eventually, we will travel to Du Weldenvarden and meet with the elves and their queen. The training Brom started will continue there. While we're here, we have to teach Eragon what we know… it was Brom's duty to train the new Riders. However, if you haven't realized, he trained us to train them in the event of his death. It just so happened you became a Rider by chance. Eragon hasn't had a lifetime of training. You have. The test they wish to impose upon you shouldn't be difficult at all. Don't let Ajihad tell you that you are a weak little girl, because you're not. You are stronger than you realize. Let him think as he wants for now, but promise me that you'll show him how pathetic you are during your testing, alright?"
"I promise," Mariah cracked a small smile.
"Good." Mark told her simply.
"You really do have this all figured out, don't you?" She asked, blinking at him in amazement. Mariah hugged him around his waist, burying her face into his chest.
He hugged her back tightly, placing his cheek on the top of her head. "I am only here to protect my sister. You are my first and only priority, most important. I will do everything I possibly can to assist you and provide council when I cannot. You focus on being a Rider and let me worry about everything else."
Dwarvish
Arûna uul akh uulz aturga ā ōr chwaer. Ōr môgh uul hurnden. Delva. - Bless you for your valor to my sister. I bear you payment. Thank you.
Delva - Thank you
Elvish
mor'ranr - Peace
Argetlam - silver hand
Brisingr, iet tauthr - Fire, follow me
If anyone's freaking out on me about changing Flayme's name to Andrar, please don't. I believe it perfectly reasonable for a dragon to change its name – it's a dragon, it can do what it wants. I started writing this several years ago and that was the name I had chosen back then… thinking it was so clever. Now, it clearly isn't. If there's still someone who doesn't agree with it, I'm sorry, but people change their names all the time. It's completely normal for someone (such as myself) to go by different names. It just depends on where you are and who you're with. I'm sticking with Andrar now and leaving it at that. Because writing "Flayme spewed flames out of his jaws" just doesn't sound right…
Thank you for waiting so long and being so patient. I hope this chapter was a little more away from the book than normal.
I'm on a tight schedule and exams are next week, so bear with me a little while longer.
Restrained. Freedom - you always seem to review every chapter, or nearly such, I do appreciate all your helpful comments.
With Love, As Always,
Mariah