Chapter Five: Beginning

The next few days went by in a blur as Eragon tried to keep things stable for the people working on Mt. Argnor. He wanted to spend every waking moment with his mother, but he had other duties and other people who needed him, so he would force himself away during the afternoons and attend to the affairs of the academy.

The ever-continuing construction had been paused for a few days after the incident with the witch, but the dwarves were eager to resume, and Eragon was eager to keep them busy and away from Murtagh.

Murtagh had been doing his very best to avoid them at all points, but there had been a few uncomfortable run-ins, and Eragon was constantly worried that a fight would break out. This was mostly avoided, Eragon thought, because the dwarves were acting like Murtagh didn't exist, and Murtagh himself tried to disappear.

Murtagh didn't spend as much time with Selena as Eragon thought he should, and often flew off with Thorn into the woods for most of the day. This annoyed Eragon, but he reminded himself that avoiding conflict was probably the best move for now.

Eragon checked in with Dusan and Thrivka, making sure they were alright after the incident outside the keep, and gave them what training he could while he was trying to juggle the new load of supplies from the elves, his recently-returned mother, and the dwarves' feud with his brother.

His plans for a quiet few weeks catching up with Arya were entirely derailed.

As for Kharnine and Shillith, several days after the near-death experience, Eragon had them go to a clearing in the stand of trees at the bottom of the slope for their evaluation. There, with no one watching but Eragon, Saphira, Arya, and Firnen, they would demonstrate their knowledge of magic, combat, the ancient language, mental prowess, flight, and anything else that might pertain to their training as dragon riders.

Eragon would also be watching them for their ability to work together and think fluidly as one mind. This had been a difficult skill for Thrivka and Dorama to master, but Dusan and Isennath had taken to it easily. Eragon wondered how Kharnine would be.

The day of the trial, he found Murtagh in the clearing, practicing sword movements with Zar'roc, Thorn lying in the shade behind him. As always, Murtagh's swordsmanship was dazzling to behold, but he stopped his maneuvers as soon as he noticed Eragon watching.

"Is something wrong?" He asked as Thorn lifted his head.

"No, no," Eragon shuffled into the clearing, followed by Saphira, whose task it would be to select some good-sized rocks for Kharnine's trial.

"We're testing Kharnine today–out of the way here where she doesn't have to worry about anyone else watching."

"Oh. I'll go then."

"You don't have to."

The words surprised Eragon as they left his mouth, and Murtagh only frowned.

"I mean… you could certainly sit in, watch her trial."

Murtagh shifted his grip on his sword.

"Kharnine… that's the Urgal rider," He murmured. Eragon felt his stomach clench. He shifted his weight on the soft grass.

"Aye, she is an Urgal."

Murtagh didn't say anything.

"She hasn't hurt anyone, Murtagh," Eragon said, a little angry at his brother's unease.

"I know."

"She's not even a full adult yet, and she's a rider like anyone–"

"–I know, Eragon, it's fine," Murtagh interrupted, still not looking at him.

Be patient with him, Saphira suggested, You recall how long it took you to warm up to Nar Garzhvog and his companions.

It was true, Eragon had been ready to slay the Kull the moment they'd showed up in the Varden's camp, and was aghast at Nasuada for allowing them to join as allies. Of course now he supported it fully, and saw Nasuada's choice as brave and wise, but it had taken some time for his distrust to abate.

He had come to appreciate the Urgal's culture and way of life, and to respect it, but clearly Murtagh would need some time to catch up with the idea, not having fought alongside them.

Eragon also knew that it had been Urgals, orchestrated by the Twins, who'd attacked Murtagh under Farthen Dur–possibly one of the worst moments of his life, and the cause of much of his suffering. Eragon tried to understand his hesitance, and not judge it too harshly.

He'll have to get over it, though, Eragon thought, If things go like I want them to.

"I wouldn't want to be a distraction," Murtagh said, twisting Zar'roc in one hand.

"I think it might be good for her," Eragon tried, not quite sure where he was going, "She and Shillith need the insight of as many riders as they can get, and so far that's just me and Arya. Your perspective would be welcome."

Murtagh looked like he thought this might be a trick.

"Besides, I think Shillith has taken a liking to Thorn," Eragon gestured.

He had noticed the little silver dragon following Thorn around whenever he was alone, watching him and imitating his movements, creeping as close as he dared, attempting to play with the older dragon.

You were willing to trade Eldunari to save his life, Saphira said to Murtagh, causing him to startle for a moment, He and his rider will not have forgotten that.

Murtagh looked at Thorn and something passed between them, and then Eragon felt Thorn's consciousness touch his.

We will stay, The dragon promised, ducking his head, and Eragon smiled. He was beginning to really appreciate Thorn.

A few hours later, Eragon sat on a rock next to Arya, with Saphira, Firnen, and Thorn lying behind them. Murtagh sat on Thorn's foreleg while Kharnine and Shillith stood at attention in the center of the clearing, surrounded by a ring of various-sized rocks, logs and obstacles that Saphira had selected.

Eragon began by asking her to perform the portions of the rimgar that she had learned from the other students over the previous days. She did well enough remembering each pose, though her movements were stiff and not fluid.

Next he asked her to spar with Nal, one of the female Urgals that lived on Mt. Argnor, in the fashion of her people. Eragon had known Kharnine would arrive with a solid knowledge of combat, being that it was so important to the Urgal's culture, but he was still impressed by her skill.

Nal was able to defeat her–being several feet bigger and a more experienced fighter, but it was a close match, and in true Urgal fashion, Kharnine refused to surrender, and Eragon had to call the loss himself.

Next he asked her to show him her skill in archery and in sling-throwing–both of which she was remarkable at, though her prowess seemed to be more in the force and speed with which she fired, and less so in aim.

He then asked Arya to attempt to overwhelm her mental defenses, which she only did after a long, formidable battle. Kharnine had picked up much during her few months learning under Arya, and was already set to be a fierce, powerful rider, once she refined her skills.

Shillith demonstrated his flying ability and mental prowess, but when Saphira asked him details about avoiding calamity in the sky, he could not put into words the tactics for navigating strong winds, finding friendly currents, or descending quickly without harming his rider. He had good instincts, but was young and untrained.

Finally Eragon asked Kharnine to demonstrate some feats of magic, using the simple words and techniques that Arya had begun to teach her so that she would be able to protect herself during their travel to Mt. Argnor. Again, Kharnine was remarkably strong. She broke one large rock into shards, and threw another across the clearing with a flick of her wrist.

She sent a blast of magic at a fallen tree across the clearing and broke every branch off. Eragon was impressed, and noted that, being an Urgal, her natural reserve of energy would likely be larger than her non-Urgal companions, making her a formidable magic user.

Would've liked to have an Urgal's-worth of energy at my disposal more than a few times, Eragon mused to Saphira as Kharnine demonstrated for Arya her speed, running from one side of the clearing to the other with spectacular quickness, despite having been tired out from her various trials.

Clearly strength is her strong suit, Saphira agreed, pleased, No doubt her partner will grow to match her, as he ages.

Kharnine and Shillith seemed to be satisfied with their display, and indeed Eragon was glad to see that he would have a lot to work with. She was focused, strong, mentally sharp, and determined. All good qualities for a rider.

Eragon asked her to demonstrate the use of the weapon she had brought with her to Mt. Argnor–a flat, squarish blade with a slight upward curve at the end–and she began to land a series of heavy strikes against the fallen tree, leaving massive gashes in the old trunk with every sword-fall and sending chips of wood flying. Again, she was spectacularly strong.

"Well done, Kharnine," Eragon commended, and Arya nodded, "We will have to find a sword in the vault that suits you as well as your current blade."

Kharnine nodded tightly, with a breath of pride in her chest. Shillith also, stood tall beside her.

"Thank you, Eragon-Elder."

"Well, unless Arya and Firnen have anything else they'd like to see?" Eragon turned, but Arya gave Kharnine a small smile.

"I'd like to see something," Murtagh said quietly, surprising them all.

Eragon nodded for him to continue, and Murtagh stood from Thorn's leg. Shillith seemed to straighten with excitement, and Kharnine stayed very still.

Murtagh took a few steps into the clearing, and crouched towards the grass. Then he pointed at a finger towards the ground and said,

"Lift this blade of grass."

Kharnine frowned, almost seeming amused at the request, but she squared her shoulders as Murtagh straightened up.

"Reisa!" She shouted confidently, and suddenly at Murtagh's feet, the earth seemed to peel off itself, and a massive clod of grass and roots and dirt shot up into the air, before losing momentum and crumbling back down, sending out a dust cloud.

Kharnine grimaced, her yellow eyes dropping.

Murtagh hadn't moved when the earth in front of him exploded, and he remained with his hand resting on Zar'roc. His voice was blunt, but not cruel, when he spoke,

"It does not matter if you are the strongest person in the room," He said, "If you don't know what you are aiming for."

Kharnine nodded, her gaze now lowered, her former pride somewhat abashed.

After that, Eragon dismissed her to rest from all her exertion, thanking her for her efforts and time. Murtagh had been right, though, she clearly knew her strengths and leaned into them, but brute force was not enough to be victorious in combat, and it was not the quality that Eragon sought to cultivate in his riders.

After the trial, Shillith seemed to stick close to Thorn even more, sharing food he had found, and flying after him, and basking in the sun outside. He even tried to convince Kharnine to sleep outside with him so he could be near Thorn, but Eragon had suggested they stay in their room, knowing Murtagh would be less-than-comfortable with the Urgal girl so close by.

Kharnine, for her part, seemed to gain a great respect for Murtagh, and Eragon noticed her several times attempting to lift blades of grass or leaves by magic, or watching him as he worked with Zar'roc, following the maneuvers with her own blade.

Saphira had been right–his willingness to sacrifice Eldunari for Shillith's life had won him Kharnine's loyalty, as had, it seemed, his bluntness about her need to improve. Eragon reminded himself that Urgal's were not a pretending people, as Saphira had said, and she would likely appreciate more the hard truth than a kind lie. He knew he would have to keep that in mind as he trained her. Just as he'd adjusted his style of instruction for Dusan and Thrivka, so he would have to adjust it again for Kharnine.

He wondered what Oromis would have said, about training an Urgal rider, or how Brom might have gone about it. He wanted to lean into Kharnine's strengths, which were many, while also preventing her from getting puffed up, and making sure she improved in those areas she lacked.

It was a good sign, though, that she seemed so willing to accept correction, even from someone like Murtagh, who had not proven himself an ally to her people.

Maybe so, but he has proven himself a formidable warrior, and has killed many–a fact that would only raise her esteem for him, even if it was true that he fought for the opposing side.

If Murtagh didn't like Kharnine watching him and Shillith being so close, he managed to avoid showing it, and at least tolerated the little dragon's antics around Thorn. Thorn, on the other hand, seemed to enjoy it fully, and did in fact take to playing with the silver dragon on the grassy slope, causing the ground to rumble as they leapt and wrestled.

It made Eragon smile to see the red dragon so carefree, so unbothered, so clearly comfortable that he could let his guard down for a while. Eragon knew he had not known many comforts in his short life.

Thorn also gradually grew comfortable speaking with Saphira; the two would go on short flights together when Eragon and Murtagh were with Selena, or hunt with Firnen, or go up the mountain with the wild dragons.

Eragon wanted to know what they talked about, when they were off without their riders, but Saphira would elaborate only a little,

We speak, as you would understand speaking, much less than with you two legs. We do not require so much the use of words.

This way of relating was new for her, and especially for Thorn, since they had not been around other dragons while in their hatchling years–or in Thorn's case, not sane dragons. Eragon smiled to see their group silhouetted in the sun as they flew down together from the mountain, shadows of different sizes and colors. It was the vision he'd always had in his mind, of what Mt. Argnor could turn out to be, and he was glad to share it with the people he cared about most.

Selena grew stronger as the weeks passed, and the color returned to her face. She went for long strolls in the woods, sometimes with Arya or Eragon, sometimes alone. She liked to sit on a balcony and bask in the sun for long lengths of time, and requested many materials from the library to read.

The first few weeks Eragon couldn't shake the feeling that he was walking into a dream, when he saw her sitting there, sunbeams falling across her, a blanket wrapped over her thin shoulders. This was his mother–not in a dream or a memory–not a phantom, but a real, whole person, sitting there as if she'd not been gone for the first twenty years of his life. He loved to sit with her in silence, or read by her side, or join her in the woods.

Murtagh, however, still seemed hesitant and unsure, and Eragon grew frustrated with his brother, wondering why he would be keeping away from the woman whom he had missed already for twenty years of his life. Eragon couldn't spend enough time with Selena, but Murtagh seemed ill at ease and pained any time they were in the room together.

"Be patient with your brother," Selena murmured one day, as she and Eragon sat on the balcony together, Eragon writing a series of letters to be sent with the Elven company back to Alagaesia when they departed in a few weeks' time.

He looked forward to relaying to Roran the news–that his Aunt Selena had miraculously returned, and that Eragon was no longer an orphan. But he also thought it might be a painful reminder to Roran–that he had lost his mother and father, with no chance of getting them back.

Eragon's gaze had drifted down to Murtagh and Thorn, who sat under the shade of the trees at the bottom of the slope, eating alone, as usual. Selena stroked the back of Eragon's neck with gentle fingers, following his gaze.

"You both carry deep hurts," She said softly, "But he was not raised in love as you were. It can be difficult, learning how to ask for help."

She turned her smile to Eragon.

"But you will need to lean on each other. You will need to trust each other."

Eragon nodded, his hand still poised over his wooden writing board. Selena sighed, and gripped her cup of hot tea.

"I'm afraid I have to tell you something that might disappoint you," She said softly, and Eragon set down his quill.

Selena took a deep breath.

"I've decided to return to Ellesmera with the elves, when they leave in a few weeks' time."

Eragon felt a pinch of sudden sadness.

"L–leave? Why?" He asked, knowing his voice sounded whining and petulant. Selena gave him a sad smile.

"I have much healing to do," She said, "And I am told Ellesmera is a place that restores and renews."

Eragon knew this was correct–his worst physical ailment had been healed in Ellesmera, and the forest and city had an ethereal quality that felt like a draught of cool water to a parched tongue.

"But more than that… I do not belong here, among dragons and riders," She said. "And you have work to do, which I will not hold you back from."

"You wouldn't hold me back," Eragon protested, "I love having you here."

"I know," Selena laughed a little, "That is why I must go. Your students need your focus. The dragons need your attention to be on them, and though I love passing the days with you, I know that I am taking you away from the people who need you more."

Eragon winced, shaking his head, not wanting to believe it. She had just returned to him–just come back from the dead. She couldn't leave now.

"It is not forever," She comforted, touching his face again, "Trust that I will not be content, parted from my sons. You will see me and hear from me often. But this is a place for dragons and their riders–for you and your brother, and Queen Arya to raise up a new generation that will protect Alagaesia. I cannot be in the way of that. It would be a dishonor to your father's memory, if I were to put my own wants above the good of the riders."

Eragon felt a twisting in his gut, a heat behind his eyes. He fought against this news, he hated it, and yet, he realized, he had been expecting it. Selena was right–she did not seem to belong here on Mt. Argnor, seemed somehow out of place, as much as she was out of time.

"You and your brother must lean on each other," She repeated, "In time, I will be gone again. To the place from which no person returns. But you two will live on, together. And you must start that journey now, while there is peace, and you have friends to guide you."

Eragon sniffled, a tear landing on the parchment he had been writing.

He hated to think of it–of the long stretch of years before him, and the losses he must inevitably face. Arya and Murtagh and Saphira, he knew, would live on with him, if they were not killed in battle. But Roran and Katrina? Nasuada? Orik and the other dwarves? His mother?

Any human he ever met, he knew he would one day lose. It was a difficult truth to swallow, made even more difficult by the fact that he had only just gotten his mother back.

"There, there," Selena murmured, kissing his head, "This is not goodbye forever," She assured. "I will visit. And you must visit. And I will scry you until you are sick of me," She laughed, and Eragon couldn't help but smile through his melancholy.

"But you must be free to walk your own path, and not be held back by the past."

He nodded, knowing that Selena was not asking for permission to go with the elves, but telling him of a plan that had already been set. And despite the pain in his heart, he knew it was right.

The other thing he knew was that Murtagh would be tempted to follow Selena's example and leave Mt. Argnor when the elves went. But this was not right–Eragon felt it in his bones. Murtagh and Thorn belonged here, Eragon was sure of it, and he desperately needed them to see it for themselves.

He thought there was a chance Thorn could be persuaded, but he wasn't sure how to get his brother to see the mountain as a home, and not just another stopping place on their never-ending, lonely journey.

You will need to trust each other, His mother had said. And Murtagh needed to see that Eragon trusted him.

Murtagh was alone on the grassy slope, leaning against the stump of a tree, a piece of parchment on his lap. Saphira and Thorn had gone up the mountain early that day to hunt.

When Eragon approached his brother, he saw that Murtagh was drawing a likening of the dragonhold with a charcoal piece.

"It's good," Eragon commented, standing over him. Murtagh looked up only briefly, but Eragon noticed another charcoal drawing sitting by Murtagh's leg–a rough rendering on a piece of wood that was almost in the shape of a dragon. Eragon tilted his head to try and make out the shape more clearly.

"Roran's daughter drew it," Murtagh explained without pausing his drawing. Eragon smiled and knelt down to grab it. He stopped.

"May I–?" He asked. Murtagh shrugged.

It made his heart warm to see the child's rough attempt at drawing; made him miss his cousin and family. Already their little girl, who had been a baby when Eragon last saw her, was old enough to talk and draw, and she had a little brother whom Eragon had never met.

He wondered for the thousandth time what his future held–if he would ever see his cousin again, if he would ever return to Carvahall, breaking the prediction given to him by Angela the Herbalist.

"That's a precious gift," He said, placing the wooden piece back on the ground at Murtagh's side.

"Has Saphira said they're returning?" Murtagh asked, glancing up the mountain as he drew. Eragon got the sense that Murtagh didn't know what to do with himself when Thorn was not around.

"No, no, nothing yet…" Eragon cleared his throat, trying to shake the nervousness from his hands.

"...so I suppose… Selena told you her plans?" He asked, already knowing the answer. He wasn't yet comfortable calling her "mother" or "mom" with Murtagh–the word felt foreign to him.

Murtagh nodded, but gave no indication of his feelings either way.

"Well, I… I know Arya's planning to stick around a while more. She'll fly back to Ellesmera with Firnen later."

Again Murtagh said nothing. It was like pulling splinters trying to get him to say anything.

"I hoped… you and Thorn might consider staying, too."

Murtagh paused his drawing, and looked up.

"What do you mean 'staying'?"

"Well… Arya and I, and–and the Eldunari were talking, and… I hoped you might consider coming to stay here, and be teachers."

Murtagh frowned.

"Why?"

"Because–because you're a dragon-rider. And you've got experience."

"You and Arya have experience. And all the folk you have with you here, they've fought plenty; they can teach."

"Arya has to go back to Ellesmera, so it'll just be me and Saphira. And Thorn is the only dragon besides Saphira who's ever been in combat–"

"–yes, fighting against you."

"And for us," Eragon reminded, thinking of the frantic few moments in the king's throne room, when Murtagh and Thorn had turned the tide of the war.

Murtagh twisted his mouth, but kept silent, clearly convinced that his presence would do no good for the dragon riders at Mt. Argnor.

Eragon sighed.

"Blodgharm and the others, they're–they're wonderful. And they can teach a lot, but they're not riders. The students can't learn from them–not like they could learn from you." Eragon gestured up the hill where he saw Shillith's sparkling form floating above one of the balconies.

"Look at–look at Shillith and Kharnine, already they've taken to your teaching. You and Thorn both have so much to offer," Eragon sighed, "And I need the help. Honestly. It's been overwhelming these past two years, and I'd appreciate having you around."

He hoped leaning on his own need would guilt Murtagh into it–Eragon wasn't above using nefarious tactics in this case. His brother squinted over at him like he didn't quite believe Eragon wasn't pulling a trick.

"You're serious?" He asked.

"Absolutely."

"And the Eldunari… Glaedr… agreed to this?" Murtagh asked. Eragon felt a tug of unease.

The gold dragon had agreed, it was true, but his thoughts regarding Murtagh and Thorn were still interwoven with rage and sorrow. Eragon could feel the conflict in his mind when they'd spoken, but at least in word, Glaedr had sided with Umaroth, and agreed that having another rider teaching at Mt. Argnor was the right thing to do, even if it was a rider with a sordid past.

"He did," Eragon answered solemnly.

Murtagh's gaze drifted towards the dragonhold as the sun was starting to lean westward.

"We'll think on it, but Eragon…" He sighed, "You can't just ask everyone to forget. You can't force them to be okay with me."

Eragon noticed he said "me" and not "us", as if he was the only one who'd fought on Galbatorix's side. He never seemed to blame Thorn for all the things he blamed himself for.

But Eragon knew what he meant–with the dwarves, particularly, and the elves slightly less so. The Urgals, it seemed, had no overt qualms with Murtagh, and had so far been the most welcoming to him, and as for the dragon-rider students, only Kharnine and Shillith had uttered so much as a word to him. Thrivka, and by extension Dorama, was obliged to shun him, and Dusan and Isennath avoided him. That would have to change, if Murtagh accepted a position as teacher for the dragon rider academy.

"All I ask is that you talk it over with Thorn," Eragon said, keeping his peace, and knowing Thorn might be his best chance at getting the pair onboard.

Murtagh nodded curtly, and Eragon knew it was time for him to drop the subject. He had to tread carefully.

He went to find Selena then, and see if she wanted to come down to the hall for the evening meal, but she was feeling worn, and wanted to stay in her chambers for the evening.

"Are you becoming ill?" Eragon asked, worried, "Blodgharm can–"

"No, love, I'm alright," Selena assured, "Just need rest. It's not so easy, getting used to my own body again. I sometimes overdo it."

Eragon reluctantly left her, and went to the hall by himself to find Arya, who, surprisingly, had coaxed Murtagh to come inside and eat with them, since Astrith had prepared the meal and not one of the dwarves.

The three of them sat at one end of the long empty table that stretched before the hearth, Eragon and Arya talking easily together, occasionally dragging Murtagh into the conversation. Eragon supposed this meal might've been Arya's own tactic at trying to convince Murtagh to stay at the mountain.

She surreptitiously mentioned that she thought the academy might need a liaison to Queen Nasuada at Ilerea–that someone should be available to go back and forth between the two, as she did with the elves, and as the dwarves did with their supply trains, in order to keep the Queen informed and to maintain the appearance of equality, especially since there had been no new human riders yet.

If Murtagh had any thoughts on this idea, he kept them to himself, but Eragon smiled inwardly, seeing Arya's clever diplomacy.

Murtagh had sat down with a third mug of ale, and Astirith had just joined them, when Eragon felt a vague nudge of thought from Saphira, indicating that she was close now. He was just about to excuse himself from the dinner to go greet her, when another thought suddenly spiked into his mind, and he flinched. It was a mix of thrill and hurt, and… amusement?

Eragon was frowning down at his plate, when both Arya and Murtagh's heads shot up in alarm, triggered by some silent thought from their partners. Murtagh was out of seat before Eragon could blink, knocking his mug over as he dashed for the hallway, and drawing Zar'roc. Arya was just as fast, and Eragon followed without question.

Eragon held back his speed as they ran, to keep at Murtagh's side, but Arya bolted through the doorway at the front of the keep, onto the half-lit grassy slope. Murtagh and he emerged seconds later, scanning the gathering darkness for danger.

Eragon looked up when he heard a ferocious snarl, and saw the shapes of two dragons grappling in the sky. His heart pounded in fear, and Brisingr was in his hands, and he saw that it was Thorn and Firnen.

Saphira? He asked, hardly breathing, his head on a swivel. He felt only a vague acknowledgement from her as the red and green dragons plummeted towards the earth, clawing at each other.

Arya and Murtagh were both frozen with their gazes lifted, clearly trying to get through to their dragons, who had separated and were fighting to gain altitude. It seemed that Firnen was giving chase and Thorn was taking evasive maneuvers. Thorn was slightly slower but also slightly bigger, and neither of them seemed able to outmatch the other.

Eragon's blood was rushing to his head, frozen and unsure, terrified of them hurting each other, when Saphira's shape swooped over head, and nearly collided with the sparring pair.

She pulled up last minute and buffeted them with her wings, pushing at them with her rear legs so that they separated and fell to the ground. They landed facing off, but she landed just a second behind them, and gave a ferocious roar that shook the ground and sent a jet of blue flame into the dark night air. She swiveled her head both ways, her message clear to both of them.

Stop.

After only a brief second, Murtagh was running towards Thorn and Arya to Firnen, and Eragon stood by, unsure, as some of the dwarves emerged from the dragonhold with weapons in hand.

Saphira straightened up then, almost daintily, and blew a little smoke from her nostrils. Seemingly satisfied that the other two dragons were not going to jump at each other again, she padded calmly over to Eragon, and sat next to him with a prim curl of her forelegs.

What happened? Eragon asked, aghast, as Murtagh seemed to be healing some gash on Thorn's hind leg, and Arya was standing with her arms crossed, staring at Firnen scoldingly.

Saphira sighed.

Boys, was all she said, and began licking her front claws as Arya turned away from Firnen and the green dragon stomped off. Thorn flew away in the opposite direction, and Murtagh started after him for a few steps, clearly trying to say something in his mind, but realizing it was futile to chase after his dragon.

Eragon turned back to Blodgharm and Duart, and gave them a wave, signaling that all was well, and everyone could return to their duties.

Arya's expression was odd when she approached Eragon and Saphira.

"Are you alright?" She asked Saphira, and Saphira half-snorted.

Oh, I'm quite fine. It was an overreaction, really, and I told him as much.

What?

Eragon frowned between the two as Murtagh dragged his feet up the hill, looking over his shoulder where Thorn had disappeared over the trees. He cleared his throat as he approached them, standing before Saphira, his eyes averted.

"Um… he says he's sorry," Murtagh murmured, "He didn't know, it won't happen again."

Again, Eragon's confusion mounted.

He need not apologize to me, Saphira returned, I wasn't offended in the least. If they wish to fight over me they can do so any time.

Eragon sensed an amused satisfaction coming from her, and things clicked into place. He looked to Murtagh.

"Thorn, um… made a bit of an… overture…to Saphira," His brother muttered in explanation. "He didn't know they were mated."

Eragon's mouth opened slightly, but no sound came out, and he felt a ridiculous humor bubbling up in him. His brother's dragon had been trying to flirt with his. It was ludicrous, but he would've felt bad for laughing, except that Arya was also hiding a smile.

It was nothing more than a small nip on my tail, Saphira dismissed again, Really it didn't bother me. He needn't be ashamed for having good taste.

Saphira! Eragon scolded, just between them. Saphira merely gave him a mental shrug.

Murtagh nodded, unsure what to say, but when Eragon and Arya both started chuckling, he gave a reluctant smile. Clearly Arya thought Firnen had overreacted as well, and was not herself angry. Eragon was just glad that nothing truly bad had happened–he'd begun imagining the worst when he felt Saphira's pain.

That night after they'd cleaned up their meal and gone their separate ways–Murtagh to coax Thorn back to the slope, and Arya to scold Firnen–Eragon relaxed in his chambers with Saphira, glad to have her with him for the night, as she had been spending most of her evenings at Firnen's side.

Thorn really tried to… proposition you? In front of Firnen?

It was a bit of light teasing, not uncouth at all, Saphira settled herself on her bed, And Firnen was ahead of us a bit; he only sensed it through me.

But… I mean were you… interested? Eragon was both amused and worried, wondering if this would add another problem to his management of the various factions on Mt. Argnor. Jealous dragons were no joke.

As I said, they are welcome to fight over me any time, I find it quite flattering.

Eragon gave her a scolding look. Of course being desired by the only two adult male dragons in existence would appeal to her vanity, but she seemed a little too pleased with the altercation that had taken place.

Even if Thorn did win, though… She continued thoughtfully, I do not think I would choose him over my Firnen.

Why not?

Saphira gave a little grimace.

He's very… oddly shaped.

Saphira! Eragon scolded again, smiling despite himself.

What? He is. Too stocky, short tail, rather a… squished face.

That's not his fault, you know, Eragon returned softly, sitting himself on the cushion by Saphira's leg. He didn't ask to be… well, changed.

I know, Saphira bristled, You asked.

She nudged the side of Eragon's head with her snout.

Fair enough, He consented, feeling embarrassed for Thorn. He hoped this wouldn't cause the dragon to be less inclined to accept Eragon's offer of a teaching position.

I only said I did not find him appealing as a mate, I did not malign his character, Saphira said gently, He's a fine dragon, so far as I can tell, and all the more for having survived what he did. Weaker-willed creatures might have been driven mad.

Eragon leaned his head back on her, thankful for her understanding. So far, at least, the crisis seemed to have passed.

Thorn returned to the keep by the following morning, but kept himself down the slope as usual, and did not join Saphira and Firnen on their next hunting trip. Shillith kept him company, and some of the wild dragons, when they were close to the hold, but Thorn took a while to shake off his embarrassment over the incident.

Selena liked to take a walk down the slope and sit with him in the afternoons, stroking young Shillith's scales and talking with Thorn, and Murtagh when he was nearby.

The weeks passed far too quickly, though, and soon the elves were preparing to leave Mt. Argnor and make their long way back to Ellesmera. Selena prepared as well. Eragon helped his mother pack, providing whatever clothes and supplies she might need for her journey, but it hurt his heart to think of her leaving.

He watched her walk in the garden with Murtagh and eat at the long table with the other elves, getting to know her traveling companions before they left, and he couldn't help but feel the melancholy of their imminent goodbye.

The night before the elven company was set to head out, they held a great feast in the hall for all on the mountain. The dwarves and elves worked together to put together a fabulous spread, and the new summer air drifted in through the open doors and wide archways as they all gathered.

Thorn sat by the open doorway, his head resting on his forelegs and his tail out in the open air, and Selena had convinced Murtagh to attend the feast, keeping him at her side, with Eragon at the other. She was lively and glowing, matching the Elves' joy and propensity to tell stories and carry on wandering conversations.

Murtagh drank the ale but didn't eat the meal, and all the dwarves kept at the far end of the feast table. Thorn refused both drink and meat, but he accepted Astirith's offer of steamed roots that she had cooked herself, which surprised Eragon.

Eragon noticed the dragon watching his rider closely later in the night, and followed his gaze to Murtagh, who was imbibing what must have been his seventh or eighth drink of the evening, with no food. He had glazed eyes and a dull expression on his face, sitting next to his mother and almost swaying, as Astirith shared an elven lay for the gathered group.

Eragon frowned.

Best not to make a scene, Saphira put in, her eyes roving in the same direction. Eragon kept his peace, but Thorn seemed worried, and that worried him. He spent what time he could with his mother, listened to the stories and songs shared by the elves, urgals and dwarves, and tried not to worry about Murtagh's overdrinking.

The next morning was beautiful, but Eragon couldn't enjoy the sun peaking over the mountain, or the dew resting on the grass. He watched as his mother and the other elves loaded up their horses with supplies–much lighter now that they had left so many goods at the dragonhold.

Alanna stood with her brother Dusan and his dragon Isennath, saying their goodbyes, and Blodgharm and Astirith helped secure everyone's belongings.

Selena wore a gentle gray dress and a light red cloak, an appaloosa mare standing by for her as she said her goodbyes. She looked healthy, and whole, but Eragon knew there were inner pains that weighed her down. Arya had told him of nightmares and fits of gloom, when she couldn't muster the strength to leave her room. Eragon hoped some time in Ellesmera would heal those deep wounds.

Eragon watched her speaking softly to Murtagh, her delicate hands on his face. He looked gray and downcast, haggard from his drinking the previous night and, like Eragon, from the knowledge that his mother would be leaving.

When Eragon walked his way down the wet slope and Murtagh retreated to Thorn's side, Selena turned towards him, her smile warm but melancholy.

"Hello, my love," She smiled and held his face. "No goodbyes," She murmured thickly, "Only… see you in a while."

"See you in a while," Eragon repeated.

"I expect you to come visit me in Ellesmera, when you can," She whispered. Eragon wasn't sure what to say to this–he hadn't told her of Angela's prophecy.

"It'll give you an excuse to see Queen Arya," Selena continued with a wry smile. Eragon blinked in surprise, seeing his mother's knowing look, but Selena simply patted his cheek.

Then her gaze drifted past him towards Thorn and Murtagh.

"Be patient with him," She urged again, and Eragon ducked his head. Then, in the ancient language she murmured,

"You are my loves and my lights, and I am forever proud of you."

She gave Eragon a kiss on his forehead, and stepped back to her mare as the elves mounted their own steeds. As they turned their company to the road, Arya raised a hand in blessing, and promised to join them in Ellesmera before the summer was out. Firnen gave a roar and a jet of flame into the morning air.

Before the dew had evaporated from the grassy slope, the company of elves departed the dragonhold at Mt. Argnor, making their long way past the stand of trees, following the path the dwarf suppliers had trod over the last two years.

Eragon stood by Saphira in the morning light and watched his mother's red cloak as it crested the hill. Just before she disappeared from view, she turned her mare towards them, and raised one hand in farewell.