It was one month after the long battle that had crushed Eragon. He was still in a daze; the news of Murtagh's capture was still hard to bear, but hearing from Murtagh's own lips that Galbatorix was mentoring him, and no less, that Murtagh was Eragon's brother! How painfully his head throbbed with the pressure of it all, and how heavily his heart weighed!
A miserable looking boy leading an equally unhappy horse meandered down the tortuous path that the forest made. Eragon could see the way the boy's clothes hung limply from his shoulders as if he had not eaten a good meal in a while. He could also detect a slight lump from under his tunic, and the arm that rested at his side with a bone almost jutting out from the skin. Every so often, the boy would mutter quietly to himself or to the horse - Eragon could not guess. Even so, the boy drew nearer every second and Eragon knew he couldn't crouch behind the bushes and stay hidden much longer.
Eragon clutched his bow and stood up. "You there!" he called out cautiously.
The boy cursed and looked up from his injured arm, shifting his hold on the lump under his tunic. He looked even more nervous than the horse that shifted its hooves and whinnied anxiously. He tried to lead the mare as fast as he could away from Eragon, but when his strides jolted the arm at his side he cried out in pain and stopped, biting his lip so hard that it leaked blood.
Eragon strode over to the boy with a worried expression and put his bow down before holding his hand out to the broken arm. "Calm yourself," he said when the youth flinched under his touch, "I might be able to heal you."
Now partially cowed, the boy tightened his grip on the bump under his clothes and let Eragon's hand be. When Eragon murmured words in the Ancient Language, the boy relaxed. But his relaxation was soon over as the bone reset itself and he made shouts of agony.
Eragon winced as the boy voiced his pain. He knew what it felt like to live so long with an ache, and he had been grateful to the elves that relieved the pain.
"What's your name, boy?"
"Um… Duvir, sir." His hesitation made Eragon slightly suspicious, but he cast that notion aside quickly.
"I'm Eragon." The way Duvir's eyebrows rose made Eragon laugh.
"Then I'm to show you this, Shadeslayer." He lifted up his tunic carefully and took out what Eragon least suspected the boy would reveal, a silver dragon egg. When Eragon reached out for it, it began to crack in the boy's hand. He looked at it fearfully and put it on the forest floor. It continued to crack and when a silver head appeared from the mess of membrane and egg, it screeched in triumph.
"Touch it on the head, Duvir," Eragon said as he took the boy's hand.
As soon as Duvir's hand rested on the baby dragon's head, he yelled again in pain, for the third time since Eragon had met the boy. When the boy pulled back his hand, he stared glass-eyed at a mark that appeared in his palm.
"Gedwëy ignasia." The words rolled off each of their tongues in unison. Eragon stared at the mark on Duvir's palm and smiled.
"I shall teach you. But first, come to our campsite and tell me your story."
They made an interesting party indeed. An elf, a human, and a dwarf sat around a fire, the human occasionally prodding the kindling beneath the flames with a small branch in what appeared as irritation. All three looked up as they heard Eragon' approach. The elf woman started to speak when she saw what followed Eragon.
Duvir patiently led his mare by the reigns. The assessing glance that the elf woman gave him made him feel like squirming.
"That's an Elven horse," he heard her say to Eragon. He nodded as a reply.
"Welcome Duvir and his dragon that he has yet to name," Eragon announced. The surprise was welcome to Eragon's company. Now, they could battle against Murtagh and Galbatorix evenly. But could this skinny, under-nourished boy defeat a man who studied far longer than he had? Could he defeat an opponent that even Eragon with all his training could not win over? This youngling would certainly battle Murtagh and not Galbatorix, but could he survive?
The other four cast Duvir expecting glances and he was pushed forward by his own horse. He looked small and fragile for a boy and he was still clutching his arm, as if unused to having his bone mended.
"Duvir, this is Roran, my brother." Eragon motioned to the only other human in the circle. His appearance frightened Duvir; the man looked like he hadn't shaved in months and he was haggard with a haunted perseverance in his eyes. To top it all off, he had a large, slightly dented hammer sitting beside him. Duvir could only imagine how many bones it had broken and how many lives and blood it had spilled.
The dwarf was introduced as Orik, who gave a harrumph when Eragon commented on his steadfastness. Duvir smiled at Orik cautiously, wide-eyed at his strange encounter. A human, a dwarf, a rider, and an elf! Strange times indeed.
When Eragon named the elf woman, he had said her name carefully, as if treading on a frozen lake, yet he said it with such a passion that even the boy could decipher the look Eragon gave her.
Arya. The name fit her well. Green eyes stared from her pale face to sternly glance about Duvir's person and the small mass of membrane and scales atop one of his hands. It was obvious that the youth's pitiful attempt to clean the dragon with his tunic had not been sufficient enough to stop Arya's look of slight disapproval. She did not smile, but the boy could tell she was pleased that a new rider and dragon had come.
All of a sudden, there was a great gust of wind, and the flapping of wings. The youngling in Duvir's hand squeaked a hello as a giant blue-scaled dragon appeared a little ways beyond the camp. She looked smug, if a dragon could.
"And Saphira," Eragon said proudly.
Welcome young one. Duvir jumped and almost dropped the youngling, who gave a protesting peep to the movement, but quickly calmed once Saphira's eye rested on it. Saphira nodded approval then turned to look at Eragon. It was clear that they were holding a conversation.
Duvir hastily, when no one was looking, rubbed the young dragon's head with his tunic to clean it. It tried to bite the boy's hand, but he had deft fingers and he managed to avoid the chance to bloody his hand.
"Duvir" - the sudden attention made him jump, again - "we shall start training tomorrow. For now, rest. Eat. Feed your dragon. Name him, or rather, ask him of his name."
The youth nodded and stared at the reptilian figure he held after secluding himself from the rest of the group. "What's your name?" he asked in a hoarse voice.
There was no answer from it.
"What's your name?" he asked louder this time. It cocked its head to the side, confused, yet not. More… expectant.
"Oh, I understand now. Uh… Trithorn?" The dragon stared at him. "Flower?"
This time, the youngling gave him such a look of horror, that Duvir knew his wrong. "You're a he, aren't you…Bid'Daum?"
Yes. And the dragon had a satisfied look as if he had taught the boy something new. The screech Bid'Daum emitted next signaled Duvir that it was time for supper.
Roran had gone hunting - the thought of the large rabbit he had caught dying from a blow to the head crossed Duvir's mind and made him shiver. The animal was roasting over the fire, giving off a tantalizing smell as fat oozed off of the meat and fed the eager flames.
Duvir noticed, somehow between salivating and quieting Bid'Daum as he was fed scraps of raw meat, that Arya the elf woman and Eragon did not look at the cooked rabbit as the others did. They were content with the berries and strange bread that Arya had gotten from a pack that she placed next to her.
When Orik announced the meat was ready, Roran sliced off bits of it with his knife and passed them out between he, Orik, and Duvir. Once Duvir had had his share, he distanced himself again, bringing Bid'Daum with him. He took off his tunic and shaped it as a pillow, which the dragon nestled into, leaving him in a long -sleeved shirt; he turned his back to the others when he laid himself down. Two seconds later, he was asleep, and dreaming of the training tomorrow.
At first, Silde was calm, but then the shock and terror sank in. Éryuin, with her long strides, patiently kept pace as the woman riding her wept. Silde stared at her gloved hands and tore off the cloth with such a violent jerk that her thigh hit the saddlebag. It was then that she remembered why she was where she was and that she needed to placate herself.
"Murtagh forgive me," she whispered. Then it started to rain.
The inn was filled to the brim with travelers straggling in, shaking out their hats and taking off their cloaks to lay near the fire.
Silde had situated herself on a barstool, keeping to herself and sipping an exotic brew of tea. Éryuin had been given the best stall in the stable after they hands took one glance at the Elven horse. Silde knew that the dragon egg was safer with Éryuin then with herself.
She was lost in her thoughts when a man sauntered up to her, clearly drunk.
"Are you one of 'em elfish women? I hears they enjoy a-companying a man to 'is room. Eh?"
Silde closed her eyes and did her best to ignore the man, taking a longer drink from the mug of tea that she held in her hands.
"I'd be talkin' to yer, missy! A wench answers a genteel man when addressed."
She put the mug down on the well-worn wood and took a couple of deep breaths. "Sir, I implore you to leave me be. I have no interest in you nor the drink that taints your breath."
The man sputtered, spittle projecting from his mouth. "You whelp!" he said with rage as he raised a fist to strike.
His blow was blocked by the firm grip of another. "I would recommend you bid a fair night to this lady now. Also, you might want to visit the apothecary for the raving headache you will have in the morning," Silde heard a different voice say.
The man stiffened, trying to force his arm from the other's grip. But when he couldn't, he pivoted and stalked off after the other had let go of him.
Silde rubbed her eyes, and looked up to a pair of gray eyes, smiling gray eyes. How nice, a savior.
A/N: The writing about Silde happened prior to Duvir meeting Eragon, in case anyone got confused. Anyway...Yay! Chapter 1! Review, review, review!