I was walking along the covered path towards Runon's forge, an isolated little corner where she worked away. I came this way often - every few days or so – most of the time I said nothing and neither did Runon. I merely watched and then left. Maybe I enjoyed seeing how she worked and how dedicated she was to perfection. This was a craft she had spent centuries honing until it came so naturally to her she did not have to think. It was also somewhat...maybe I want to say 'real?' In this place I felt as if I could remember what it felt like back out in the world that lay beyond this city. Time, for Runon at least, was of the essence if she was to create a weapon worthy of her forge or a suit of armor that would stand up to battle. But that did not seem to be the right answer to me and it had a hollow ring to it as if I was not diving deeper and uncovering the truth of my reasons or motivation.
So, anyways, here I was and I emerged out into the protected clearing where Runon, as always, labored at her forge. Yet this day she was not. It was so surprising and so out of character that I froze where I stood and stared at the scene in front of me.
The elf smith was sitting on a simple wooden chair that I recognized as coming from the small kitchen at the back of the forge that I had glimpsed on a few occasions. Sunlight filtered down between the leaves and the elf, for the first time, looked as if she was relaxing. Her face was not drawn with seriousness or the intense focus that blinded her to everything but what was in her hands. Runon's age suddenly seemed apparent and there was an air of quite watchfulness that only someone who has seen all there is to see and now merely watches can achieve.
Her eyes flickered over me and I was glad that it had become habit to wear my sparring clothes to her forge. It hardly seemed appropriate to wear a delicate elvish dress in this place and neither did I want Runon to think of me that way. Inclining my head in respect I spoke the traditional greeting that had become, since my arrival and constant use, a ready thing upon my tongue.
She considered me for a second and I remained silent, allowing my words and the vibration they caused in the still air to fade away like a memory. Then she sat forward a little and spoke in a voice harsh from disuse. "Nearly everyday you come here. Why?"
I stood, for there was nowhere to sit, and regarded the elf before me. Why did I come? What brought me to this place on such a regular basis? Was it because of the grim honesty with which Runon worked and seemed to provide one place that I could safely say was real in this place? Finally, summoning my voice which seemed so loud in this place, "Does it matter?"
Runon was silent for so long that I thought she would not answer and we would both be frozen here for the rest of time. Finally she spoke, "No." Then she leaned back in her chair and continued, "No. You are different and so I welcome you to this place." Her eyes sharpened and suddenly her peaceful, calm air vanished and a look more akin to the intense drive she showed when working came upon her. "What have you learned?"
The sudden change her attitude, the very air around us, sent me reeling for a moment before I was able to steady myself and consider the question she had posed to me. What had I learned? I had stood and watched a master smith at work and seen how she handled the tools and the item she was creating. I had seen how she called to it and yet also allowed it to grow as it wished. However, I was no smith and nor could I have replicated what I had seen if I was handed a piece of iron and told to make something.
I choose my words with care, "I have seen many things. But I still search for what I have truly learned Runon-elda."
The elf chuckled and the sound was like rocks grating against each other - unnatural and not altogether pleasing to hear. "You are a strange one girl. Surely you have learned something?" Gesturing at her forge she asked with an almost laughing edge, "How to forge a dagger? How to manage the bellows until your fire is white hot?"
I had learned something. It had nothing to do with forging weapons or things of beauty crafted from metal or jewels but something that one could not hold nor physically see. I had not learned the best way to handle a hammer nor anything else to do with a forge. It was something that was important for me especially as the days grew darker and the world colder. Maybe I can explain it; I can at least try to put words to it because Runon deserved it. I turned my face to gaze at the trees that surrounded us - at the bark of those trees and the way they were anchored to the ground - to reality - like pillars. Then I looked back to Runon and saw the way she sat, her gaze firm and her hands folded neatly in front of her as if she to, like the trees, was anchored to the very face of this land. It would take an earthquake to move her and it was that strength that I admired.
Du Weldenvarden seemed to exist in a place beyond time but in Runon's forge, standing and watching her work, I saw dedication and endurance. I saw something that had endured. She had seen the world rise and fall but she still labored on - never pausing and not stopping even as the world crashed down around this forest. She knew what was happening out of the safety of these trees and so she labored on to create things that would be needed before the end of this. Did she cower? Did she linger in guilt for creating the swords that had shed so much blood? Did she forget her purpose or why she was here because of all that she had seen? Runon had endured and with her a bit of the past when this world was young and not so stained by blood. It was easy, when I was with her, to see beyond the immediate future that seemed so dark and so ready to fall. To look beyond a future in which I could fail and condemn more than this world to Galbatorix. No, when I was here, I could look beyond and see something that comforted me. It was something that made me know that, regardless of what I had to or what I saw, I could and would endure.
Surely I had learned this lesson before? Surely I had seen what it means to risk greatly and take a risk which could destroy everything? Was I just being another dramatic little girl wanting to 'find herself' and end up a hero? The girl who never has to confront her faults and somehow finds her way through the battles and death to emerge bright and happy on the other side? No reader. That is not me. I am unsure and I am weak. Memories weigh heavily on me and so does the guilt of failure for I had not just let Ajihad die but others who had fought for me - for my family.
I had - of course I had - seen all of this before. However, it is a lesson that I needed again. I needed to see that there was more than ashes and dust. That one could endure through the loss and the sacrifice. The knowledge that one had to continue even when the burdens grew so heavy it seemed impossible. Sometimes memories of lessons once learned - of sacrifices made - are not enough when one is about to brave the tempest again and be asked to pay the highest of prices in a game with the highest of stakes.
I had watched my mother and I had seen how she had, like Runon, lived and endured despite knowing that the innocent and loyal died for her and because of her. No one can live blameless and sometimes one must question the very foundation of the world. Yet Runon - like my mother and many others - had shown me that if we are to do what must be done then we must not be afraid of the sacrifice and we must continue even when our steps are heavy. There is a risk, in every beginning is an end and every moment is a battle. The risk of living and doing the things that must be done if there is to be any sort of dawn.
Because living is hard. It is a battle and it is a fight that we never stop trying to win. We all break the same way but it is the ones who find a way to put themselves back together even with all the weight and the suffering that lingers long after the deeds are done. Shame is there to. Shame to be the last one standing on a field of battle and shame to be the one who thought they could but found they really didn't know what they were doing.
I smiled slightly as I turned my gaze once more to the silent elf smith who watched me with that steady, far-seeing gaze that refused to let one go. "I have learned something," I said evenly, "I have learned what it means to continue. To endure but to endure with a purpose and the knowledge that one must continue even as the world trembles and falls." I drew myself up a little straighter and met her gaze with all the strength I could muster, "Thank you for showing me that again. I had forgotten it. I shall not forget it again."
The elf suddenly smiled and there was something almost happy to that ageless and yet ancient face. For a second I saw Runon as she must have been when she was a young elf so many centuries ago. Then she nodded as if pleased and then she rose from the seat. She was taller than me and yet I did not cower nor did I shift my gaze. The smith rested her calloused hands on my shoulders and said quietly, "Then you have learned all I can teach you."
"Thank you," I said with a smile and then she stepped away from me.
"When it is time for you go," the elf paused and then continued, "Come here. You have proved yourself worthy of it." With that she returned to her forge and I turned to leave.
I left the tunnel of the trees and emerged out into full sunshine. My hair was stiff with dried sweat from my duel that morning and I still had a whole day ahead of me. The birds were chirping and the world, this world at least, felt so soothing and peaceful as if elves were not already preparing for battle. However, the calm and peace was deceptive and it merely masked the undercurrents of determination, vengeance and an urgency to save not only this forest but the entire world of Alageasea. It was nearly time. I heard that gravelly voice from my dream: Be ready. There were many mysteries that needed to be answer and many things that needed to be done.
It was a very satisfying feeling.
He felt as if he had just labored long and hard but the reward was well worth it. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and his fingers stained with splotches of ink that had splattered during the intensity of his writing. His hand cramped from holding a quill for so long and he felt stiff. Yet, in front of him, stacked neatly on the desk, was a pile of creamy colored pages. He was rather proud of how the letters boldly stood out against the white and the way stack of pages felt in his hands. It was his work. Each of those words, each finely crafted letter was his and created by him in a language that was not his own but that he had mastered.
Rising from the comfortable chair he gathered his piece of writing and glanced out to see the fading gold sunset. Zoe would be here soon and he wanted to share with her what he had created for the Agaeti Blodhren. It felt strange, he had never thought of himself as a writer and while he knew he still had far to go it was also a warm feeling. He had created something that someone, one day, might want to read and maybe, just maybe, enjoy. It was a snap shot in time – a picture of his identity and his past – that was unique to this time and who he was.
During his time in this fair city he had become engrossed in the elves' epics. The flowing style, the simple words that conveyed so many complicated feelings and the way they caught his imagination. He supposed it was true with all good stories. One could relate and yet they spoke of things that one wanted to – things one may never experience and yet could imagine to. The written word, Eragon had decided, could inspire so many emotions and ideas.
Saphira had left to pursue her own project and he had been left to imagine what it might be. She had told him it involved fire but what she was using her fire to do was a mystery. She had told him that she would be gone for most of the night and he found himself burning with curiosity to know exactly what it was that had her so excited and so secretive.
Carefully making sure his desk was back in order after the flurry of creative inspiration he found the page of wards that Oromis had given him. His teacher had instructed him to cast them around both himself and Saphira to protect them from the more heady spells that would be awoken during the upcoming celebration. The elf had made no mention of Zoe and so Eragon suspected that his friend either had her own protections established or Oromis had already spoken to her of it. Placing the sheet with the spells in an obvious place he finished screwing the lids back on the ink bottles and neatly piled the scrolls that he still had to read that night.
Making his way down from the study he entered the bedroom and gathered up his sword before leaving the tree house. The small clearing in which he sparred with Zoe was close and it was there that they had their lessons in how to speak and act to. It was a peaceful place and it gave the two humans and the dragon some much needed privacy.
Eragon knew that his fourteen pages of writing was no master piece. He also knew that it could not match the priceless writing of the elves' or dwarves' great authors. However, it was true and he could speak it in the Ancient Language because it was true. It was a true tale, a tale that sparred no quarter or saved his pride. Yes, he was proud of it but because, by recording it all, he could see how he had changed. The things that had frightened him, the challenges posed by life and the things he had once wanted were now gone. They had been replaced by new ones and he was different. Some answers had been given to him and some questions still needed answering. He had not lied.
Zoe was waiting for him. Dark hair braided back and a warm smile on her lips as she turned to face him. "Eragon," she greeted and then her eyes fell on the papers in his hands. She raised a curious eyebrow and asked with a half-smile, "What is that?"
Looking down at the pages he felt a little bit of trepidation suddenly at the idea of sharing it but, knowing he would have to do it front of far more people than just Zoe, he steeled his nerves. "It is what I intend to share at the Celebration."
"Will you read it for me?" asked Zoe with a brief nod towards it and Eragon nodded even though he was feeling more self-conscious by the minute.
He wanted to apologize for his poor skill in the craft of writing but he remembered one of his more recent lessons from Zoe. She had told him that, to apologize for a skill one did not have was foolish and merely sounded like a weak excuse. One, she had told him, never got any better if they were constantly excusing themselves and not striving to be better. If one never tried then one would never know what they could do. Besides, the celebration was in three days. He did not have much more time to be trying to do something else and this was, he tried to tell himself, an honest account of who he was.
So clearing his throat he began.
Over mountains blue…
When he finished he looked up and saw that Zoe was gazing reflectively at the trees around them. Her face was quiet and she looked as if she was considering the words he had spoken. She was a part of the story – a friend who had been there – and he half-worried that she did not like being a part of it at all.
With a long sigh she turned and met his gaze with her own deep grey-blue eyes. "That is very pretty Eragon. It is also honest." She smiled and said, "I like the honesty in it."
"You like it?" he asked.
"I do," she said firmly, "I want to make a copy of it. It is like a reminder of how much things have changed. How far both you and I and Saphira have come since you left Palancar and I landed on my back in Yazuac. We do not resemble the people we once were." An almost sad smile crossed her face and she continued, "You should be proud of it. It might be a little rough but it is true. That is what matters."
He looked at her and for a long time he did not know what to say. She was right and he could only hope that those who heard him recite in a few days would see what she saw to. That it would not be one more embarrassment like his failure to hold his own when he dueled with Vanir was. He wanted to show the elves that he could do some things and had half hoped that this bit of writing would help him in his desperate quest to prove that he was worthy of the title of 'Rider.'
"Come," said Zoe as she drew her sword from its sheath by her side. "We should begin…"
It really was not anything special.
An old house that was in bad need of new paint on a dingy street where no one seemed to live at all and the only sound was the faint sound of dripping water. Yet she was here and it seemed rather fitting that the Black Hand would make their headquarters in this part of the city – a place few went and certainly none of the Varden. He noticed a pair of mangy looking dogs farther down the street picking at some sort of garbage that had been left on the street.
What is interesting, he had come to realize, happens mostly in secret. In places where there is no power. Nothing much of lasting value ever happens at the head table or in the grand ballrooms. Those who already have power will often glide along the familiar rut they have made for themselves. While those who have nothing but have a goal will pull the string from behind.
Moving forward carefully he examined the house for any signs of traps. There was nothing that he could sense right then and he had the feeling that most of the place's protection lay merely in its first appearance. Why make this place into a fortress if no one ever came into it? Gently pushing open the door, he found himself on a dark entrance. A hallway branched off to his left and there was an open room to his right. The walls had peeling paint and there was no furniture to be seen on this floor at least. A mouse skirted away from him and he wrinkled his nose in disgust. It was even worse on the inside. It was hard to imagine the fair young woman he knew living in such a place when he had always seen her walking down marble corridors with a retinue of attendants behind her. Times changed and war – desperation – made people into many things.
Looking to the ceiling he felt a small smirk grown on his face. She was upstairs and she was alone. On silent feet he moved towards the stairs and took his first step. The stair moved beneath his weight and there was neither railing to grip nor any light to illuminate the uneven steps. He was halfway up when his foot went all the way through a stair with a dull snap. The entire staircase began to sway, and realized that it was going to collapse. Acting quickly he launched himself up the rest of the way just as the staircase shuddered and collapse, crashing down below into the room below. Murtagh's chest slammed onto the landing; his legs dangled in midair as his fingers scrambled to grab anything from the faded carpet covering the upper floor to the smooth wood beneath it. He jerked backwards…
Iron hard hands grabbed his wrists…
Murtagh was hauled up and he found himself looking into the bright green eyes of Vivian. "Murtagh," she murmured as she placed him down gently on the landing. "What are you doing here?"
Murtagh rubbed his numb wrists. He was surprised by her strength – astonished actually. She had almost wrenched his shoulders out of their sockets when she'd lifted him straight up in the air. He pressed his hands against his chest where it had hit the ledge and took a deep breath. He was bruised but he didn't think he had broken any ribs.
Meeting her gaze he saw a spark of worry and fear in those cold jade colored eyes. "I am looking for you," he said as he glanced around them. They were in one large room. A bed was in one corner with messed sheets and a window overlooked a back alley with a twining vine that one might be able to climb down. A large, rather comfortable looking couch was on one wall along with a massive map and a mirror. A closet showed a small collection of clothes ranging from black leather gear to a soft blue dancing dress. This was where Vivian must make her headquarters.
The girl sighed heavily and buried her face in her hands. "I told you stay away," she said softly and he heard a note of desperation. "Why didn't you listen?" She looked very weak then to him. Her shoulders drawn together, face grey with exhaustion, her narrow body too thin and her hair was dirty. Gone were the noble woman and the silky spy. She stood unmasked and frightened before him. It hit him hard and he wished that fate had not brought them together so.
He rested a hand on her shoulder and said softly, "What is happening?"
She raised her face and shook her head violently, "I can't tell you. Go now. Leave. Please Murtagh!" Her voice rose with desperation and he wondered if it was desperation for herself or for him.
He felt his resolve harden and gently he put his other hand on her shoulder and held her still. They were both standing, looking at each other and he felt as if they had been transported from this dilapidated house to Uru'baen and the gleaming palace they had first met in. "No," he said, "you are my friend. Tell me."
She gazed at him and the silence that fell over them both was oppressive as their wills met in a clash. "I could not see what was right before me. I wasted so much time on you."
"Vivian," he began.
"Did you ever love me?" Vivian asked.
"No," he admitted. "I thought perhaps I could, but…"
Vivian nodded.
"I thought you did. I was so certain that you did, even though you never said it. I thought this mess would be temporary, even when it was dragging on and on. But it's not. It never was." Vivian turned her face away from him.
"You should think better of yourself than to settle for this," he said quietly.
"There isn't time."
"No," he said, "but we have enough to work together once more. One more time."
A ghost of a smile flickered across her face, "Why Murtagh? Why? Can't you see there is nothing worth doing this for?"
"I've come too far to turn around," he responded even as he felt a small flicker of fear. He was risking more than his freedom. He was risking Zoe, the Varden, Vivian, Eragon and Saphira by coming here like this and risking so much. Everything could go up in flames and, yet, he had to. He had to risk the blaze and hope there was some way he could save both himself and the girl he had once called friend and then tried to forget only to realize that forgetting her would be a fatal mistake.
Vivian looked at him. She looked at him long and hard for uncounted minutes.
"Then let me show you," she said so softly he had lean in to hear her. "Let me show you have been missing. Because you have been deceived and it destroy everything you hope to gain."
She took his hand. And it was then that he knew. He knew there was no going back now and yet he felt the adrenalin – the thrill of the chase - and it was too late to pull the emergency brake now.
I am free! Exams are done and so I wrote this chapter in celebration. I do have a busy summer but I will have more time for writing now that one year of high school is behind me. So look for some updates! Yes - this is a filler but the next one will not be one at ALL! :)
Thank you to my awesome readers! :) You guys are just soooo awesome and it really was a bright spot when I was lost in a pile of flash cards and textbooks! It totally killed my imagination and I am so grateful for all the suggestions you guys have given me regarding Zoe's creation for the celebration...SO THANK YOU!
Review Replies:
guitarmoreseknopfler: I am glad you liked the chapter :) I did make it through exams - yay! I am free once more and looking forward to summer! The next chapter will be about the transformation and how that affects Eragon and Saphira...
Elemental Dragon Slayer: Thank you for the review! The modern world...that is an awesome idea. Hope you enjoy this chapter and look for some more SOON!
M.X.M. World Traveler: Thank you for all the ideas :) it is a challenge to think of anything let me tell you...hope all is going well with your story and thank you for the review!
rissmuso: Yes...it is one of those really bad grammer habits that I need to break. Thank you for reminding me of it! I am glad you enjoy the story :)
live laugh play music: I am glad to see you again :) hope you enjoy this chapter!
shin obin: hmmm...I am thinking! You will have to wait till the next chapter to see what she ends up creating :) thank you for the review and I hope you enjoy this chapter!
Jjidizzle122: Awe thank you :) I do love constructive criticism so please - if you see something - then let me know :) chapter length will be increasing once I am over these fillery little chapters that seem to be a necessary evil unfortunately :( hope to see you next chapter!
Chris: Yes the celebration part is the best :) hope you like this chapter and the next one will be up soon I hope! As well: thank you for all the suggestions you have given me throughout this story writing process :)
jabber185: haha well I am glad you like the story! even though it is a little rough around the edges - especially at the beginning. It has been a learning curve for me and one day I might go back and just rewrite it but it has been very fun! I will try and 'serve it up quick' now that school is behind me! Thank you for the review and I hope you enjoy this new chapter.
EVA-Saiyajin: Thank you for your review - it really is awesome to get some constructive advice about my characters and my own writing style. I really will keep an eye on the Mary-Sue land especially as we move towards the next two books in the series. I am glad that you find the original characters to be sort of in-character because I do worry about that. No - Zoe really won't be able to rely too much on that timeline though I will use it as a building base for future events. Once more: thank you!
Stay safe…murmured that ghost of a whisper in his mind. For me.
