Boo.

You're not scared, are you.

Ah well. I own nothing but Tania and Ophelia.

And this one is kinda long, so… yeah… lucky you, right? XD

With an explosive leap Saphira swept off the ground and into the still air. The steady whoosh of her wings was the only sound in the darkness. As she disappeared over the rim of Tronjheim's peak, Orik let out a long breath. "Ah boy, 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—and preferably under it."

He 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!"

Eragon and Tania 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 an unfamiliar, guttural language to a stout ruddy-faced dwarf, who promptly handed them stone platters piled high with steaming mushrooms and fish. Then Orik took Tania and Eragon up several flights of stairs and into a small alcove carved out of Tronjheim's outer wall, where they sat cross-legged. Tania wordlessly started eating with neat, quick bites.

When their platters were empty—Tania's was noticeably cleared faster than her companions'—Orik sighed with contentment and pulled out a long-stemmed pipe. He lit it, saying, "A worthy repast, though it needed a good drought of mead to wash it down properly."

Tania saw Eragon surveying the ground below, before he asked, "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 many of us choose to live elsewhere is the Beor Mountains."

"Then there are other dwarf cities?"

"Not as many as we would like. And Tronjheim is the greatest of them." Leaning on one 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 setting 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 only been 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."

"Few things can compare to its majesty," commented Tania, leaning back against the stone wall.

"I've never seen anything as magnificent," admitted Eragon at the same time.

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?" asked Eragon.

"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."

Tania saw Eragon's face fall slightly, and she sighed silently. Based on what Murtagh had told them, the royal army was much bigger than that, 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 number of humans in Tronjheim. There are many dwarves here—many more than the number 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."

Tania saw Eragon glance at the hammer and stars on Orik's helm. "What does that mean? I saw it on the floor in Tronjheim."

Orik lifted the iron-bound cap off his head and brushed a rough finger over the 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 is the personal crest of Korgan, our founder. One clan to rule, with twelve surrounding. King Hrothgar is Dûrgrimst Igneitum as well and has brought my house much glory, much honor."

When they returned the platters to the cook, they passed a dwarf in the hall. He stopped before Eragon, bowed, and said respectfully, "Argetlam."

Tania hid an amused smile as the dwarf left Eragon fumbling for an answer. Obviously no one had bowed to him before. "What did he say?" he asked, leaning closer to Orik.

Orik shrugged, embarrassed. "It's an elven word that was used to refer to the Riders. It means 'silver hand.'" Tania snuck a look at her own gloved hand, thinking of the mark Ophelia had given her. "Do you wish to return to Saphira?"

"Is there somewhere we could bathe first?" asked Eragon. "I haven't been able to wash off the grime of the road for a long time. Also, my shirt is bloodstained and torn, and it stinks. 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?"

Tania buried her face in her hand, (unsuccessfully) trying to smother her laughter as Orik demanded, "Do you seek to insult Hrothgar's hospitality, Eragon? As long as you are in Tronjheim, you won't have to buy a thing; neither of you will. 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 a shirt. And I'll get you a set of new clothes as well, Tania."

He took the two Riders down a long staircase until they were well below Tronjheim. The corridors were tunnels now—Eragon was cramped because they were only five feet high, and Tania had to bend her knees and bow her head slightly—and all the lanterns were red. "So the light doesn't blind you when you leave or enter a dark cavern," explained Orik.

The dwarf took Eragon into one bare room, then came back a moment later and took Tania to a nearby—equally bare—chamber 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 for you when you get out."

"Thank you," said Tania. "Would you mind leaving the gloves? I'm quite attached to them."

Orik smiled. "Of course," he said, then left.

Tania undressed quickly, then stooped through the doorway into total darkness. Carefully, she slid her feet over the stone floor until her toe brushed warm water. Sighing, she eased herself into it. It was mildly salty, and came up to just above her waist, but soothing and calm. Closing her eyes, she let herself sink into it completely, practically feeling the ten years' worth of grime and filth float away from her.

After scrubbing herself with soap and brushes, she found found a small, sturdy comb on the shelf beside the pool. Grimacing in the darkness, she undid her braid—which was no easy feat—and slowly worked her way through the snarls and matted clumps that had grown in her hair. Finally, once she had straightened and detangled as much as she could (which was a lot), she submerged herself completely underwater again, letting the water rinse through the black strands, then floated on the water with her eyes closed, letting the warm water unwind her stiff muscles.

When she emerged, dripping, into the lighted room again, she found a towel, a black tunic, a pair of black breeches, and her gloves, which she could see had been washed. The clothing fit well. Pausing to braid her hair so it hung in a black plait down the middle of her back, she went out into the tunnel to find Orik and Eragon waiting for her. They climbed the stairs back up into Tronjheim, then exited the city-mountain.

Eragon gazed back at Tronjheim's peak. A moment later, Saphira flew down from the dragonhold as he 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."

Tania saw Eragon's lips twitch with a smile. "Is it dangerous?" he asked.

"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."

Saphira landed a spear's throw away, her scales rustling dryly. As she greeted Eragon and Tania, humans and dwarves trickled out of Tronjheim, gathering around her with murmurs of interest. Tania quickly darted forward and pulled herself onto the saddle, having no wish to interact with more than three people.

Muttering something unintelligible from this distance, Orik pushed Eragon forward. For a moment, the Rider balked, before hurrying forward without further protest and jumped into the saddle in front of Tania.

Before they could take off, an old woman stepped forward and grasped Eragon's foot with a fierce grip.

Dun dun dun!

Haha.

Please review.

FF