She stared at her plate of food and pushed the chunks of meat and potatoes around with her fork. Despite the absence of poisons or toxins her food was regularly seasoned with, she wasn't hungry.
"Eila, you need to eat." Galbatorix' rich, condescending voice vibrated through her chest. A sickening smile fell across his lips as she forced herself to look up at him.
"Yes sir." She said quietly and took a bite of her food, chewed, then swallowed. He grunted, then returned to his meal. Thankfully he didn't notice the paleness that set itself into her skin, or the darkening under her eyes that was worse than usual. If he did, he hadn't said anything. He probably didn't care enough anyway.
"Tell me," he finished chewing, then took a sip of wine. "How are we coming along?"
Confusion lit her features. "I ask you kindly for clarification, sir." She startled when he sighed and let his hand slap against the thick table. She flinched as her heart leapt into her throat.
"With our experiment, Eila. Are you pregnant?" He sounded upset.
Confliction and emotion flitted across her features as she set her fork down. "Yes sir." Once again, she looked up at him, but this time, she was met with a smile. A genuine smile. He clapped his hands once in celebration, then pushed his chair out and rose to his full height as a loud chuckle boomed from his throat. Her answer was usually 'no', so he wasn't expecting her to say 'yes'.
"Rise." He smiled wickedly and watched her push her own chair out from under the table, then studied her as she stood on shaky legs. The scabs under her shirt and trousers cracked as she moved, but she forced herself to suppress the need to wince at the pain they caused.
When she was standing, he wrapped her in a gentle embrace, seeming to be careful of her injuries. His arms tightened around her and for one of the first times in her life had she actually felt comforted by him. She had feared his reaction. She had feared the moment she did fall pregnant, and everything grew worse when she felt the pulse of life under her touch. She feared for herself and now the child as well. She was scared in ways she hadn't thought existed.
His embrace was like a haven to the tsunami of horrible emotions that threatened to break her as easily as a rock skips across cobblestone. She tried to stop herself from shaking within his arms. She resisted the tears that fell from her eyes for as long as she could, but ultimately failed. She felt so small compared to him, and for once, let herself take comfort in his gesture. Her arms wrapped around him with the hope that this comfort could last forever.
It didn't.
The moment he felt her hands around his upper back, he gripped her shoulders. He lifted her and set her down roughly a foot away from him with effortless ease. He then pulled his black glove from his right hand and she watched the leather sigh with relief as it lost its form. She could see the anger in his black eyes, and only a beat later did the palm of his hand connect with her cheek as he struck her with all of his strength.
She keeled to the side, then forced herself up, using the chair to help. Her head was ringing from the impact.
"I did not raise you to be a weakling! Your chamber. Now!" He shouted and she nodded.
"Yes sir." She bowed obediently, then turned on her heel and started towards the dungeons.
"I will be upset if the coals and irons are not warm by the time I'm down there!" He growled and swiped his hand across the table, sending food, plates, and utensils flying across the room in a cacophony that failed to mirror his outrage.
Her pace quickened and she disappeared through the double doors that would take her out of the dining room and down the hall which would eventually take her to her least favorite room in the entire castle: the Information Wing. It was a pleasant thing to call the torture chambers, in her opinion.
She was almost running when Durza caught her collar and yanked her back. "Hold it there, Sweetheart." He hissed at the choked sound she made when her shirt pressed into her neck with the abrupt tightness. "You're in a rush?"
"I told Father." Her gaze faltered as emotion choked her words.
"And?" He raised a long eyebrow.
"I am to prepare the hot equipment." She couldn't stop her voice from shaking.
A low, inhuman growl escaped Durza's lips and she flinched.
"Look, if I'm not there before him, it's going to be a lot worse than it already is bound to be for both of us. Forgive me Durza, but please let me go." She tried to stand as confidently as possible despite the grip he had on her collar and the weakness in her legs from the lack of nourishment. The nausea and vomiting had started early and it was already bound to be bad throughout the rest of her duration.
He growled again and turned her loose. "I will speak to him." With a flourish, he slid down the corridor and she soon found herself unable to do anything but watch.
After a brief moment, Eila had finally found it in herself to turn and run as fast as she could to her undesired location out of fear for a worse punishment.
Her knees buckled the moment she slid through the threshold, weak and out of breath. She skinned both knees and her palms on the rough stone floor, but she ignored both as she hurried to stoke the flames.
Suddenly, he was over her, his hand splayed against her abdomen as he forced her to the stone wall. Her head bounced and-
Eila flinched. Her body bent slightly around the phantom of a hand that pressed itself into her belly. She groaned quietly and let out a soft exhale before she righted herself, allowing her own hand to ghost over her stomach.
"It's not real… it's not real." She whispered into her quiet room. Elva went with Angela and Arya had a meeting to attend to. The invitation to join said meeting was extended to her, but she felt that the instability of her mind would cause an issue. Besides, she just needed some time to herself after sparring with Däthedr to recuperate her composure.
She had been reminded of too many old habits.
"I need to get away." She said softly. Her hand remained on her abdomen for a moment before letting it fall to her side.
"Eylörís? I'm going to go for a walk on my own for a little while." Her hands shook as they fiddled with the cloth of her pants legs.
Images of trees whipping past and the feeling of wind on her ears lit her mind. "Very well. I think a walk would be good for you. I am with Fírnen, helping to teach Kitlàn to hunt."
Eila frowned. "Kitlàn?"
An image of the youngest dragon of their group appeared and Eila nodded. She hadn't known Elva had given him a name yet. Maybe it was a name given to him by Fírnen and Eylörís. Maybe it was something he chose himself.
"Is he doing well?" She asked, sounding hopeful within her mind, but physically she was working on keeping her breathing even so none of the panic would leech into her mental conversation with her dragon.
"It is his first day hunting, but yes he is doing well."
Eila sensed approval through their bond. "I'm glad."
The white dragon hummed. "Take care of yourself. Your mind was hidden from me a moment ago. Are you alright?" Eylörís asked gently.
"I'm fine. I just… it was just a memory." She spoke aloud this time as well as mentally, hoping to convince herself of her words. She knew it was a flashback memory, though. It wasn't real, not in this timeline. Everything did happen though, and she was still working through learning how to handle the events in her past now that she knew none of it was normal. "I can handle it, I promise. I only need a few moments, that's all." she shrugged. "And a walk."
"Alright. I'll leave you be, then. Please be careful and don't push yourself."
"I promise to, Eylörís. I promise. I'll be back soon. I hope you enjoy your time with Kitlàn and Fírnen." She responded, genuinely glad for her dragon to have two companions to be around.
"I shall see you soon as well, Eila."
She felt Eylörís pull away and soon, she was alone again.
The silence stuck like needles in her skin and her eyes drifted downwards at her body, then with a shaky breath, she let her hand rest against her abdomen once more. She swallowed thickly and blinked. "It's been nearly three years since I lost you, I think. I'm not sure." her eyes watered. "I love you still… I always will."
With careful movements, Eila sat down on the edge of her bed, doing her best to let her emotions go for the first time in too long. "I'm so sorry I didn't come visit you before we left… but I just…" she wiped her eyes. "I wasn't ready… I hope you can forgive me." Her gaze traveled to the forest beyond her room. "This is the farthest I've ever been from you, you know. I wish I could have brought you with me. I will forever feel guilty for never having seen you in your casket; the beautiful crystallized one that Thorn and Murtagh made for you under the old maple tree in the gardens. All I have is a memory of a memory, given to me by Murtagh, but I am thankful for it, because you looked so peaceful and healthy; like you had taken at least a breath and had made a sound of your own." She shifted. "That's all I ever wanted for you. Peace and health… and love."
Eila let her tears fall, unashamed of them or the way they made her feel. She was by herself in a safe place; it was okay to be weak to gather strength in the healing it caused.
"I miss you, Luna." Her shoulders hunched in defeat. "I always will. I'm just so sorry things had to be the way they were. I suppose the only bright side is that you never got to feel any of the pain that I was exposed to. I'm glad about that, at least. It was so hard to live day-to-day in constant fear."
Her mind flicked to Durza. "I think your father did a lot more to protect us than what we were aware of. I think Shades have limits too." She smiled weakly, then closed her eyes. "You're with me… in my mind; my memory. I'll always have that, and it's enough for me. It used to not be enough because I missed you so badly… but it's okay now." A shaky laugh escaped. "I just… I don't want you to be cold. I know they wrapped you in the blanket you were born in and also the padded tunic they stole from the guardroom, but I still worry. I always will."
Eila's thumb rubbed up and down across her lower abdomen, feeling as though Luna was still with her. It always felt like that… even after so much had happened; even though her daughter had been gone for so long.
It made her want to curl up on her mattress and stay there for an eternity.
Instead, she stood, straightened her tunic, bent to pull on her boots which she always kept by the footboard of her bed, then left her room, deciding that she shouldn't linger for too long on the things that caused her pain. There was a point where mourning became wallowing, and she was determined to not cross that line.
Part of her wanted to speak to Shruikan, but she knew he was having his own difficulties being back in Ellesméra for the first time since his original Rider had been killed; the times before he was manipulated and twisted and tortured. He needed time to rest and mourn and heal in the ways that were right for him, so just like yesterday and the days before, she let him be. She would check on him soon, though, just to make sure he was mostly okay.
She wondered if Elva could feel his pain. She most likely could.
By the time she was leaving the Loft, her composure had slipped back into place. The dagger she kept at her waist helped her confidence. Weapons always did because they were her source of protection. She intended to try her hand at carving wood with it.
As she walked, the Elves that passed her bowed their heads in silent greeting, so she did the same with a shy demeanor that was mostly a forced effort. She knew her smile was her father's, so she did her best to avoid showing her teeth. She also didn't exactly feel well enough to produce an honest smile. The memory that had returned to her earlier felt too real and she was only trying to take her mind off of it. Otherwise she would begin to wallow. She needed to pace herself.
Her feet took her through the pathways of the Elvish city, absorbed in the purity and beauty of its nature. All of her life she had only known her stone prison. It amazed her how alive everything was.
She wandered down a large spiral staircase that led her to the ground, and the moment her boots touched the soft soil, she felt the inclination to remove them and go barefoot. So she did, and she smiled at the feeling of the sun-warmed earth beneath her feet. She was surprised she could even feel it. Many of the nerves in her feet have been destroyed or marred. She knew she may never get the feeling back, but at least she could feel the soft ground under her, and that was enough to make her happy.
With a quick glance around, she rolled her shoulders and started off in a southerly direction.
The air smelled good. The sky was a beautiful blue, the trees a vibrant emerald contrasted by the rich browns of the bark on their trunks. The gentle breeze felt nice. She wished she didn't have to wear sleeves. A knot twisted in her stomach. She would have to undress partially for Däthedr's spellcasters to work on her shoulder and that made her nauseous enough to need to vomit. It was bad enough allowing the tailor in Ilirea to take her measurements. She hated the pitying glances.
"I'm not a weakling." She whispered to herself as she kicked a sharp rock, which cut her largest toe open. She cursed but continued walking despite the bleeding. It wasn't that bad.
She stopped and reached out with her mind, realizing it wasn't smart to go into uncharted territory without feeling the place up first.
There was a lot of wildlife. Birds. Squirrels. Rabbits. Deer. Thousands of species of different insects and arachnids. Snakes. She liked snakes… and lizards. Her father had a massive snake in his quarters. It was a gentle giant. Possibly the only thing he legitimately cared about, but that assumption was bold and farfetched yet closer to the truth at the same time because of how much he enjoyed owning and caring for the creature. Regardless, that snake was better cared for than she was.
Naiamyra. That's what it's name was.
Eila walked over to a tree and let her mind gently brush against the old snake that resided against the roots, waiting for the warmth of the day to warm the rocks so that it may sunbathe.
She let it know she wouldn't hurt it, and also extended the offer of the warmth of her arm. She let it know she would be walking for a while and wondered if it wanted to join her.
It accepted the offer and Eila reached out to it, lowering her hand enough so it could coil around her arm. She smiled softly. It was getting easier to breathe.
The snake let its body worm its way up her sleeve and once it was situated, let its head rest in her palm, just over the Gedwëy Ignasia of her right hand.
"There we go." She hummed gently. "Now you don't have to be cold anymore." She observed it's round pupils and it's coloring. It was a harmless snake, but just because it had round pupils doesn't always mean it would be non-venomous. She let her fingers run down its long back, tracing the lime-colored stripe she found there. There were several indications to tell whether a snake was venomous or harmless. Many of those indicators took time to learn and to study. Eila had mainly memorized them and all the known species of snakes in Alagaësia in the textbook she found within Urû'baen's library. She had done that with stars and stones and plants and knots and so many other things. Durza had asked if she had read every book in the archives. The answer was 'only half'.
Her mind floated outwards again, but this time she stopped and frowned. The signature that touched her mind was human and male. Elva was human and female, and quite honestly, Eila thought she was the only human living in Ellesméra. Apparently she was wrong.
Curiosity got the best of her and she made her way in the direction in which the man's mind was located.
She made sure to make more noise than she was used to as she moved through the forest to avoid scaring him. She didn't know if he had any weapons or even if he was hostile. Then again, the Elves wouldn't house a vicious or malicious being would they?
"Hello?" She called out when her eyes landed on a small house with a garden. Angela's home was larger, but this structure had a stream running through it, which Eila felt might be more peaceful sound wise.
She approached the door and knocked four times, then took a step back and waited a healthy, though not impolite, distance from the house's entrance.
The door opened slowly, revealing a miserable looking man with dark circles under his eyes.
"You're not Adarë." He frowned in slight confusion; his light blue eyes boring into her own. He was practically a twig with long arms and long scar-covered fingers. His hair was stringy and off-white. He might've been handsome when he was much younger, Eila decided.
"No, I'm not." She answered calmly. "I'm new to Ellesméra and I stumbled upon your home. I thought to stop by and say 'hello'."
He grunted and sighed. "It would be disrespectful of me to refuse your presence. Come in. Do you want tea?" He grumbled as he stood aside.
Eila hesitated, unsure of what to say. "Just some water is fine, thank you."
The man huffed, then walked back into his house. He left the door open for Eila to enter.
She set her boots down outside and scrubbed her feet off on the doormat before walking through the threshold. Her toe wasn't bleeding anymore. "You have a lovely home." She said as she closed the entrance and walked further into the open space full of light and life.
"It is filled with plants and creatures; I don't know what's lovely about it." He grumbled.
Eila didn't place a filter over her mouth this time. "I grew up in Urû'baen during the war. I had never seen the sun up until a few months ago. I had never seen any plants that weren't cooked into food. Nothing living. Your house is made of a tree. It's living. There was no life where I'm from, and the lives that were there were numb and practically dead anyway." She said darkly as she raised a daring eyebrow. "I think your home is a model of my Elysium. Take that as a compliment and be on with your life."
The man stopped in his kitchen and turned to her. "You're an Elf without the incessant need for etiquette. Interesting." He turned back to his work.
"I am a half-Elf who prefers etiquette but will leave it behind if it's unwelcome." She deadpanned as she moved through the small living space.
"You're a hybrid then? Like a mule?"
And Eila laughed. Never had she been referred to as a mule and for whatever reason, she felt it was one of the funniest things she'd ever heard.
The man just stared at her with bewilderment.
"Yes, something like that." She managed as she tried calming herself down. "And who are you? A swamp wizard?"
The man eyed her strangely, studying her for a moment.
"Sloan." He said slowly. "Why did you find that funny?"
Eila's cheeks were still flushed. "Well, my mother was an Elf and my father was human. A mule is made from a horse and a donkey. My mother would be the horse because she was beautiful and intelligent and my father would be the donkey because he was smart, but also an ass." She grinned again.
Sloan handed her a mug of water after he finished preparing his own cup of tea.
"Are half-Elves frowned upon?" He asked, sounding genuine. Eila guessed he was more comfortable around her because they shared human descent.
"From what I've experienced, no. They're just suspicious because I'm from Urû'baen during the time of The Dark King."
Sloan settled against the counter, a scowl on his face. "What was it like?"
Eila shrugged. "Cold, dark, lots of pain. Never ending torture. I lost my sanity for a few years and did some terrible things I'll never forgive myself for. I eventually found it again, but I haven't been the same since. What happened to you? Why are you, a human, in an Elvish city?" She changed the topic quickly.
Sloan eyed her suspiciously. "I betrayed everyone in the village where I was born. I was sent here to learn my lesson, to fix my outlook of the world; to discontinue my rotten mindset and to amend the ways I treat people. My eyesight was taken by the Ra'zac, and I was barred from seeing my daughter, but Eragon restored my eyes and let me see her one last time. I'll never be able to talk to her or hold her child. I'm a grandfather." Sadness shrouded his gaze as tears clouded his vision.
"If you are able to fix yourself up, will you be able to see them again?" Eila asked.
Sloan shook his head mournfully. "Unless Eragon removes this curse, no. I am to suffer for placing everyone in danger. For snitching. The rest of my life will be spent in this misery. Besides, they all know I'm dead. It would label him a liar, and that's no good on a Rider." He looked at her hands, refusing to look her in the eye. "Were you a butcher too? In Urû'baen?"
Eila looked down at her hands, at the snake still coiled around her scarred flesh, and swallowed. "In a way. Most of these are gifts from my father as he was abusive, but yes, I did act as a butcher for a short amount of time, though." She hesitated, then took a sip from her mug of water. It was cool as it slid down her throat. She felt it land in her stomach. "Why do you ask?"
Sloan sat his cup on the counter and held his hands up. "I used to be a butcher in Carvahall, my home village. Our scars are similar, that's why." He clicked his tongue. "What sort of butchering did you do that would make you say that? Did you handle exotic meats?"
Eila winced slightly. "I don't… it wasn't butchering exactly, it was more like skinning and tanning. I did work in the kitchens, but it wasn't long before the staff practically kicked me out. I was no good." She smiled slightly. They had her come for her training still, and they did teach her, but when Galbatorix came around, they hid her so she wouldn't be in trouble.
He nodded. "I see." He looked up in thought. "Gedric Ostvensson used to be the tanner in Carvahall. I wonder if he's alive still." Sloan shrugged. "I suppose I'll never know."
"I could scry Nasuada and ask for you if you'd like."
He shook his head. "I can't let anyone know I'm still alive. They all think I'm dead. My whole family thinks I'm dead. I am dead to the world outside of this leafy prison." He grumbled with mourning.
"Are you free to roam the city?" She asked.
"Well, yes, but why would I want to do that? Elves are condescending in the most polite way I've ever seen. The backhanded comments flow free from some of them. Especially that Vanir, oh, what a rotten individual." He fumed.
Eila chuckled. "Arya wasn't fond of him either. He apparently insulted her in a way that was highly offensive to all Elves, not just her. He was banished and may not return to Ellesméra for ten years."
Sloan let out a bark of laughter. "Serves him right."
Eila nodded. From what Arya told her, she agreed with Sloan on his assessment.
When the conversation stalled slightly, Eila glanced around the home and noticed the carvings he had in all the windows. "You make wood carvings?"
He harrumphed. "Yes, what does it look like?"
"Well, I didn't know if these were yours or not. There is a beautiful plant pot on a shelf in my room within the Rider's Loft and I didn't make that."
Another snort of laughter. "Fair enough."
"Would you teach me?" She asked. "I went walking in these woods to both relax and find something to carve. I intended to teach myself, but if you know, I'd love to learn."
He shrugged. "Do you have a knife?"
"I wouldn't go into the woods without one, especially so with the intention to learn to carve wood." Eila said obviously as she produced the amber-handled hunting knife with a drop point blade from her belt, then handed it out to him.
His eyebrows raised in surprise. "This is beautiful." He said in shock. "This must've cost you a fortune."
"I know. I was lucky enough to have found it on a skeleton while on my way here. Aside from my sword, it's probably the most valuable thing I own. It was just left to rust, can you believe it? I suppose there really wasn't any other way, but the tragedy is still there." She felt at ease around Sloan, she decided. His antiseptic attitude towards the world matched her own in some respects. He was just more blunt and vocal about it than she was. He was accepting of her scars and even had scars of his own. He didn't pry into her life and she didn't pry into his. Now it seems they've found a common appreciation for all things bladed.
"Absolutely. This must've been forged by the Dwarves themselves. Rhunön might could tell you." He shrugged. "She gave me my set of whittling blades." He handed her knife back and she sheathed it in it's leather case.
He moved across the kitchen and into the living room where the mantle of the fireplace was located within his house. He pulled down a wooden box made of blood red wood and brought it to his dining table to work the latches. The lid popped up and revealed a set of twelve blades, all in different shapes and sizes.
Eila frowned when she walked over to get a better look. "She told me that an oath she took prevents her from making blades, how did she make those?"
He shrugged. "Told me that because they were tools and not weapons, she could cheat around her oath. These are the only set of whittler's blades that are made from Bright Steel, the same steel used in the swords of Riders." He pulled one out and handed it to Eila. It was surprisingly light.
"These are beautiful." Eila said quietly. She felt like speaking any louder would disrespect the craftsmanship and elegance of the blade in her hand.
"That they are." Sloan agreed. "Don't even need sharpening stones or a strop. The edge is forever."
"I know what you mean." Eila smiled and handed the blade back. "I have a Rider's sword and it's true. The edge is forever."
He raised an eyebrow. "Tell me," he began. "Do you smoke?"
Eila shook her head. "Not usually and it depends on what it is if I were to engage in that activity. I'm not opposed to it."
He nodded. "I ask because I usually smoke Reiter Reed before I do any carving. It helps with the shakes and the pains of old age. Thought to offer you some. Your hands don't seem very steady either."
Eila looked down at her mug and watched the small tremors that sent little vibrations through the liquid within. "You're right." She said, sounding almost surprised. "If you're offering, then I'll accept."
"Good. This way." He said as he closed his box and lifted it once the latches were locked in place.
Eila followed him to his back porch which overlooked the stream bubbling past his home. She let the snake slide from her arm and onto a sun-warmed rock below the deck, then stood and took a seat in one of the rocking chairs he had out there when he asked her to do so. Surprise lit her features when she sat and the chair went backwards. Her hands gripped the armrests and Sloan smiled at the wideness of her eyes. The first time she saw him smile.
"You've never sat in a rocking chair, have you?" He asked as he walked down the steps and out to a small section of the stream. He pulled two logs from a pile he kept in the water to preserve them and brought them back up.
"No, sir." She responded and let herself experiment with the movement of the chair. She felt like a child when a smile made its way across her features.
He hummed and handed her the slightly larger of the two logs. She sobered and accepted it, allowing it to drip onto the porch instead of her lap.
Sloan let his piece of wood rest against the house before disappearing back into the house. When he returned, he carried a glass box and a long, ornate pipe made of what looked to be carved jade.
"Here." He handed her the pipe and she studied it once its weight was in her hands. Upon closer inspection, she realized a forest was carved into the bowl and even part of the stem. The scene was complete with a few birds and a stream.
"It's beautiful." She smiled up at him.
"Yes, it is, but I prefer wood and it's taking up space. It's yours if you want it so long as you'll use it. Adarë refuses to take it. It's too precious to go unused in my opinion."
Eila's eyes widened. "Who is its maker?"
Sloan shrugged as he opened the glass box and produced a short wooden pipe. He sighed and stood. When he returned, he came with a grinding bowl and a large jar with a wooden lid containing a hefty amount of dark blue twisted flowers. "Forgot the flower." He grumbled, then sat and opened the jar.
He took a few pinches of the petals and proceeded to grind them using the stone wand. Eila liked the knocking and grinding sound the act of preparing herbs made within a stone grinding bowl. She forgot how much she enjoyed it.
"Here." He said and pushed the bowl out to her first and she packed a small amount into the dark green jade pipe.
"Thank you." She said and nudged the bowl back to him. "Brisingr." She whispered softly and the petals caught fire and turned the brief flames an emerald color. She sucked in and only embers remained. She let the fruity tasting smoke coat her tongue, then enter and leave her lungs. Relief spread through her muscles as she relaxed back into her chair.
"Would you like me to light yours?" She asked and Sloan shook his head.
"I have Dwarven engineering." He produced a small canister about the size of his thumb. A small, knurled steel wheel along the side struck a small piece of flint when spun, which lit a piece of cotton rope saturated in oil on fire.
"Impressive." Eila smiled, then turned back and closed her eyes so she could listen to the sounds of the forest. She relaxed further into the rocking chair, now unafraid of it tipping back.
Sloan took a long pull from his own pipe and let it out. "Elvish flowers." He mumbled. "Never have I tasted a pipe herb so unique and magnificent."
Eila smiled as she watched the small wisps of smoke rise from the green embers in her pipe, feeling more relaxed than she ever has experienced. Even with Elva the worries in her mind caused tension to rise within her and constrict her chest. She never would have thought she would be able to try Reiter Reed when she was in Urû'baen, or even when it was liberated and renamed as Ilirea. It was rare enough and terribly hard to grow. Conditions needed to be perfect.
"Where do you get this?" She asked as she took in another sip.
"Adarë brings it to me, but I'm sure it isn't hard to get a hold of here. It has helped me cope with what I experienced in Helgrind. I don't know how long Katrina and I were held hostage, but we were tortured in horrible ways. I'd like not to speak in more depth about that."
Eila's eyes widened slightly as a hopeful smile touched her lips. Maybe this treatment could be helpful to her when managing her own symptoms. She didn't want to rely on it, though. That's the last thing she wanted.
"I understand your struggles. I suffer from the same sort of affliction." She chuckled. "I just met you and yet we are similar. I don't know if that makes sense."
"It does. I like you because you're not like them. They try to push themselves on me; they don't understand. They don't know human ways. They don't know human mindsets. It's suffocating: the polite positivity. It doesn't help. In fact it makes it worse. I am miserable here and their joyful-careless attitudes mock that misery. They give me things, luxurious things, like they're trying to buy me. I'm not that sort of man. I've always worked for my earnings and I take pride in that. It's condescending that they would assume all humans to value all that glitters." He looked over at her and she looked back at him. His bright blue eyes were misty. "I had my whole world taken from me. My wife died in The Spine. My daughter thinks I'm dead and I'll never get to hold my granddaughter. I just hope she's happy with Roran Garrowsson."
Eila nodded. "I'm sure she is. From what I've heard Arya and Angela tell me, he is an amazing young man. His bravery and courage have introduced an epic love story into the world that bards will crow about for years to come. All for your daughter. He helped get Ilirea back, and I'm sure he made a hefty dent in Galbatorix' forces. He is rebuilding Carvahall with the help of the Elves, all for your daughter. I think he is a fantastic heartmate."
Sloan frowned deeply. "You've never met him. How would you know?"
"Because I know Queen Nasuada. Arya Dröttning, the Queen of the Elves is my teacher. Orik, King of the Dwarves is here and from all of them, I've heard wonderful things about Roran Stronghammer." She stressed. "He sounds a worthy man."
Sloan frowned. "What about you? What sort of experience do you have to make that sort of judgement?" He sneered and Eila rolled her eyes.
"Enough to know what a good man is. Try growing up under Galbatorix' thumb. I also happen to have a very caring and sympathetic partner who is very respectful of me." While she and Elva were new to a relationship, she needed to inflate the subject to make her point. What she said was true though, at least in her eyes. She wouldn't be able to tell otherwise. Any treatment is better than what she went through in Urû'baen. Elva was very sweet to her though, and Eila felt comfortable and safe around her.
"Is he an Elf?" Sloan asked.
"She's human." Eila smiled down at her pipe. She wondered if Elva would like to try Reiter Reed. "I don't know what romantic love is, but I want to learn what it is with her. I do understand the amount of love Roran has for your daughter though, and it could move mountains. I wouldn't frown upon it so willingly." She took a long pull from her pipe and smiled. She felt bold. Confident. "Let us carve wood?"
Sloan huffed, then nodded and opened his box while Eila produced her own blade. The colors of her world seemed so vibrant and beautiful, so she spent a considerable amount of time staring at the amber grip. Petrified insects from long ago had been encased in the ancient sap. What a terrible way to go, she thought.
"Let's make an owl." Sloan suggested and Eila nodded.
"Alright." It didn't matter that she'd never seen an owl before. She was determined to do her best regardless of the result.
He hummed, then began instructing her on her first woodcarving project. Eila hoped she could spend more time with him, despite the bitterness and anger that was imbedded in his personality, but she understood. They shared some similarities and maybe they could help each other heal from their pasts to lead healthier, happier lifestyles in the future.
Eila felt hopeful, and it wasn't just because of the Reiter Reed.
A/N: A couple of things:
1. Repeating Past is my equivalent to Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, but because I don't think they would have those terms in Alagaësia, we're calling it 'Repeating Past'
2.The name 'Eila' is actually pronounced 'eye-lah', but when I read it, I always say 'ee-lah', which is wrong. Say her name however you want, though :)
3. The Reiter Reed flower (pronounced 'Writer Reed') isn't real, but it is very, very loosely based on Cannabis
4. Don't pick up snakes you're unfamiliar with. Don't pick up snakes to begin with unless they're your pet and you know what they are. Let them mind their own business. They are very gentle when not threatened. And smooth… like gin
5. When Eila refers to Urû'baen, she's talking about her life/the events before Galbatorix died. When she refers to Ilirea, she's talking about current times/ post-death of Galbatorix and after the liberation of his forces by the Varden.
Okay! That was a long chapter. Please forgive any mistakes. Don't forget to eat and drink something today. Wherever you are in life, you're doing great and it's okay to let yourself have a break. Let yourself come first, always. If your mind feels burned out, have some tea and watch some nature :)
I hope you enjoyed this chapter, as always, and I know I sound like a broken record at this point, but I still mean it every time I say it! I also hope all of you are doing well, and if you're not doing so great, that you find relief soon. I'm kind of in that place at the moment, but I'm working on it and I'm proud of myself because I'm working on it! One step at a time.
I adore you all!
-Lady Arlo