Hello my amazing readers! I do not own Eragon or any of its characters, only my OC ones. I don't think I mentioned in my summary that this will be a Murtagh/OC fic. Oh well, now you know. Btw, I just came up for the idea of this fanfic while reading Eragon for the fifth time. Murtagh just seemed too lonely, and he's always been my favorite.
When they walked in, Armelle's father was lounging in a high backed wood chair with legs carved neatly, down to eagle talons cupping a wooden ball at the end of each leg. The chair was covered in patterned leather at its cushions, and her father looked at home in the chair, which was probably more expensive than anything they had in their home outside of Osilon. The room was dark, lit only by a few candles in the corners of the room that each casted a flickering warm light around the room, projecting large, deformed humanoid shadowed shapes on the walls.
Her father smiled and stood, pushing the chair across the wood flooring of Brom's home as he did, and walked toward his daughter. He pushed down the hood of her black cloak, revealing her tied up gold hair and silver eyes for the first time to Brom. He kissed her forehead, murmuring simple questions like "How are the horses?" and "Are you alright?" as he had noticed her defensiveness of her belongings. She answered them truthfully as Brom examined the girl. She was tall, lean, eluding to her elven strength, and built otherwise like an elf. Her silver eyes were remarkable, and something Brom knew she had inherited from her mother, who was the only elf Brom had ever seen with eyes of the pure white metallic color. Her hair was golden, like that of her father's, and she had pointed ears, though they weren't as sharp as a full elf's. Her silver eyes were partly slanted like an elf's, though only noticeable if you knew of her bloodline. If she were to go out hoodless or cloak-less, she would have to keep her hair down.
"Enjoying my chair, Devon?" Brom asked Armelle's father when he finished his quick questioning of his daughter.
Her father looked sheepish. "I haven't seen one of its fine make in quite a long time, Brom. I just had to sit in it and marvel."
Brom and her father clasped hands in a brotherly greeting, they way they had been when Armelle had first seen them.
"Is there a place Armelle can put her things?" Her father asked quietly.
"I have a spare room in the back she may use. You may have mine." Brom replied, sending a pointed look directed down a hall leading to the back of his house.
"I won't take it," her father protested.
"You are my guests, and I cannot in good conscience make one of you sleep on a piece of furniture that is not a bed." Brom argued, shaking his head.
"I'll do it," Armelle volunteered from behind her father. "I am the smallest. It would be easiest for me to take a chair. Father can have your guest room."
Her father frowned, about to protest before Brom cut him off. "Quite selfless, your girl seems. You've raised her right."
"That selflessness has little to do with me." Her father corrected, meeting his daughter's silver gaze and sighing. "Are you sure?"
She nodded. "If I can keep my belongings in the guest room, near yours, I am positive."
Her father nodded and glanced at Brom. "Very well. Put your things away, all but your larger saddlebag."
She knew by his glance what they were doing, and she didn't like it, but she obeyed. She took off her cloak by its silver latch, the cloak which had belonged to her mother, and carefully folded it with her things.
Argenta poked her head out of the saddlebag and nudged Armelle's leg with her silver snout.
Armelle smiled and stroked her head for a moment. "You have to go back in, Argenta." She whispered to the hatchling. "I'll let you out in a moment. I promise."
Argenta squeaked in reply before slipping her head back inside.
The teenager arranged her things neatly in the corner, beside where her father had placed his. She carried her saddlebag back out, making a mental note to make a strap for it just in case she had to carry it like she currently was in the future.
When she walked back out, Brom was now sitting in the elegantly carved chair, puffing smoke rings from a pipe. She tried not to cough; she had the enhanced senses of an elf, and of that her sense of smell was included. She sat in a chair that was close to her father's, still holding the saddlebag defensively.
"Armelle," her father said gently, looking at his daughter with hazel eyes that matched his tone. "Open the bag, and removes your gloves. Brom can be trusted."
She took a deep, trembling breath, and pulled off her half-fingered gloves. The silver mark glowed against her callused left palm in the dim candlelight.
"The gedwëy ignasia," Brom breathed in shock, eyes wide under thick eyebrows. "Where then, Devon, is her dragon?"
Her father looked at her and nodded.
She unclipped the latch on her saddlebag and Argenta's head shot out of the opening, the hatchling scrambling to freedom. She fell into Armelle's lap while the half-elf placed the saddlebag aside. Argenta stretched, her wings spreading to over double her small body length as she shook out her stiffness.
Brom chuckled. "What of food?" He asked once his expression sobered. "Has it been eating enough?"
"I have given her all of my meat rations on the journey here," Armelle replied as the dragon snuggled into her lap. "And some small animals I managed to hunt through the Spine when we entered."
"Good," Brom replied with a single nod. "You said 'she'. Do you know for sure if the dragon is female?"
Armelle nodded.
"Is she already speaking?" He asked, sounding curious.
"No," Armelle replied quietly, "but it felt wrong not to try and discover her gender. I asked her, and she nudged at my leg. I then asked her if that meant female, and she nodded."
Brom was nodding slowly; apparently nodding dragons weren't such an odd thing to hear about. "How long has it been since she hatched?"
"Two days," Armelle's father answered for her while her attention was directed at the silver dragon in her lap.
"Hmmm..." The older man replied thoughtfully. "She seems small."
Argenta squeaked at him, annoyed by such an insult.
Armelle smiled at the hatchling.
"It could be possible her egg was small," Brom suggested, looking between the half-elf and her human father.
"It did seem smaller than most I remember." Her father agreed. "But that should not stunt her growth."
"Indeed," Brom stated in his gruff tone, directing his next words to Armelle. "She may grow quicker until she catches up to where she should be."
She nodded.
"But we must find somewhere for her to roam free. Dragons are not meant to be kept indoors, and she will quickly outgrow this place as it is." Her father commented.
"What if she stayed in the Spine?" Armelle suggested, her silver eyes taking on an amber tint in the flickering candlelight. "Could I find her?"
Both of the old men nodded.
"Soon she will be of age where you can communicate with each other in thought," Brom replied. "Until then, I wouldn't let her go too far from a single area."
Armelle nodded again.
"You may take her out," her father said quietly, "but be careful not to draw attention."
The half-elf nodded, standing while holding the silver hatchling in her arms. She walked back to the guest room, grabbing her cloak and pulling down her hair. The thick gold strands were wavy with lumps from the tight bun it had been in, but hung around her face and framed her pointed ears. She snatched up her bow and quiver, throwing both over her shoulders to be strapped across her body, and slipped out of the back door. Argenta stayed curled in Armelle's arms as she walked toward the valley they entered Carvahall through. She walked down Palancar Valley, and she saw the boy with the blue "stone" watching her curiously as jogged toward the Spine.
She found a large oak tree with roots weaving in and out of the ground, a hole where they had split stretching higher and deeper into the trunk. Armelle smiled and sat against a thick root, which was wound through the ground, and placed Argenta on the ground beside her.
The hatchling stirred, blinking her large silver eyes as she woke up, her silver scales glittering as if she were built from layers of freshly polished coins.
"Did you have a nice nap?" The half-elf asked, smiling at her gently.
Argenta gave a toothy expression that almost matched a smile.
Armelle chuckled. "You're going to stay here, okay?" She informed the dragon. "It will attract too much attention if you stay in town with me, but I promise to visit you daily."
She didn't seem too happy about being left alone.
"You'll be alright." Armelle assured. "I'll bring you food if I must, and you'll be free to fly once you're old enough. The tree will provide you good shelter until you grow out of it, and by then, we may be able to go home again."
The hatchling didn't seem convinced, but made no noise of protest.
The teen stroked the scales above Argenta's eyes gently, calmly sitting with the hatchling, chatting with her and getting wordless replies.
Close to sundown, Armelle left the Spine and Argenta, and headed back toward Brom's home. As she entered Palancar Valley, the boy they had met going into Carvahall was standing by his home.
He looked over at her and smiled, seeming curious about the new stranger before walking forward.
She quickly made sure her blonde hair covered her ears.
"Hello," the boy said when he stopped beside her. There was a bulging object inside of a buckskin bag hanging from his shoulder. "Weren't you one of the riders that came in looking for the old storyteller, Brom?"
She nodded. "How did you know?"
"I recognized your cloak," he replied in a simple tone, smiling at her again. My name'x Eragon, by the way. Brom and I are friends."
She smiled back. "My name is Armelle. It was good to meet you, Eragon. I feel as though we'll be seeing quite a bit of each other while I'm here."
He nodded in agreement. "Good to meet you too, Armelle. And I feel the same way."
She left the valley as Eragon walked back toward his home, and she thought she had just made an important friend.
She just met Eragon! Yay! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I'm sorry if they seem slow right now, it'll pick up, just like the book did.