Chapter 11

There was a great feast that night to celebrate the green egg's hatching after Arya awoke, her hand marked with a silver oval that Danny learned was called a gedwëy ignasia, the physical manifestation of the Rider's bond with their dragon. The food was excellent (if entirely vegetarian – he wondered what the dragons would eat) and the performers exquisite, but there was an underlying thread of tension through the whole meal that everyone could pick up on.

Eragon and Arya were seated together on one side of Islanzadí, Saphira crouched behind the former and the green dragon (who had been named Fírnen) sat on the latter's lap. The elven lords and ladies were seated on Islanzadí's other side. And poor Danny was stuck sitting right next to Eragon, feeling Saphira loom over him. Someone must have said something to her and Eragon, though, because they made no overt aggressive moves toward Danny.

Even when Fírnen attempted to crawl from Arya's lap and over Eragon's to Danny's during the meal.

Eragon gently guided Fírnen back to Arya each time. Instead of being combative, like her fellow Rider, Arya merely looked confused and hurt by her dragon's rejection. Danny, too nervous to talk over Eragon, wasn't able to tell her that he didn't know what Fírnen was thinking. He'd have to hunt her down sometime to talk to her, otherwise the situation would likely escalate, and that was the last thing Danny wanted.

And here he'd been thinking that all his problems would be solved when he made it to the elves. Instead, he'd just generated a bunch of new ones.

He hoped that the elves wouldn't retract their support. Otherwise Danny would really be stuck here.

"You smell strange." Danny turned to see a small, white-haired woman peering curiously up at him from under messy bangs. Something about her posture made Danny think she wasn't human; she reminded him of a cat.

"Maud," Eragon greeted, nodding. "I trust you've been well?"

"Aye," said Maud before turning her attention back to Danny. "I've heard the rumors of an unnatural creature retrieving the green dragon's egg. I suppose they were true. I have found myself in interesting company, indeed." She grinned, showing fangs that were most certainly not human in nature. Then she slunk off, skulking behind Islanzadí's chair and watchfully observing Danny.

"So, uh, what's with her?" Danny asked Eragon uncomfortably.

He received a strange look in return, likely because his style of speaking was quite different from what Eragon was used to. But despite his dislike, Eragon was making an effort to be friendly, which Danny appreciated. "She is a werecat who has settled with the elves. I know not much about her, just that she remains often by the queen's side."

"A werecat? Like someone who turns into a cat?"

"A large, shaggy-haired cat, but aye."

Danny spent the remainder of the meal making small talk with a vigilant Eragon. He learned that the elves didn't eat meat but would provide the growing Fírnen, too young to venture far into the forest for food, with meat. Danny wasn't uncomfortable with a vegetarian diet – Sam, one of his best friends, observed such restrictions – but he did enjoy a balanced meal that included meat, so he supposed he'd be taking Fadrau into Du Weldenvarden occasionally so he could put his nascent fishing skills to use.

He also discovered that Eragon was from a small village called Carvahall near the mountain range, called the Spine, he'd flown along back when he'd first been heading aimlessly north. He learned a little bit about dwarves from Orik, who was seated on Danny's other side, and in turn shared tidbits about Amity Park and his dimension as a whole.

But while his audience listened in fascination to Danny, he couldn't forget that he was far from home surrounded by people who would likely take his head off if he misstepped.

Danny woke the next morning just a little after the sun had risen, having slept better in the bed than he had during all his days of travel. He wasn't attacked during his sleep, so he counted that as a win. (His standards for hospitality, after all the ghosts he'd had the misfortune of being "accommodated" by, were pretty low.) He performed his morning ablutions and ventured outside. Fadrau was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs.

"You sleep late," the elf noted as a greeting. Danny snorted; Fadrau would likely be aghast if he knew that Danny slept until noon occasionally back home. "Would you like to go to the library?"

"Actually, could we look around Ellesméra a little bit? I'd like to see more of the city," Danny replied. He'd seen his fair share of otherworldly vistas in the Ghost Zone, but Ellesméra was something entirely new, and he was curious. It was just too bad he didn't have a camera with him. Maybe he was being a bit of tourist, but who wouldn't be interested to see a place that had been built literally by a different species?

"Very well," Fadrau nodded, turning and motioning Danny to follow. They trekked along the paths of Ellesméra, Danny seeking to commit everything he saw to memory, from the houses literally grown from the trees to the beautiful elves who flitted between light and shadow. They passed some organic water features – a small stream with rocks placed just so to alter its course, a fountain of water that seemed to spring from and disappear into nowhere – and some gardens with gorgeous arrangements of flowers.

They wandered by a gigantic tree in the middle of Ellesméra which Fadrau proclaimed to be the sacred Menoa Tree. The tree was so cloaked with magic that Danny could almost taste it, and he could sense a slow consciousness within the tree that seemed to stir and wake up a little at his presence. When questioned about it, Fadrau returned with an eerie story about an elf maiden named Linnëa who stabbed her unfaithful lover to death and then sang herself into a tree.

They eventually came upon an open clearing filled with sparring elves, plus Eragon. Except something was wrong. Danny could see a deep black miasma that hadn't been there before crowding diagonally along Eragon's back. Even as he watched, Eragon, outmatched in strength and speed by the elf he was sparring with, fell to the ground, screaming in pain, the smog on his back turning a malicious red. Danny nearly rushed forward to try to help but was held back by Fadrau.

"What's going on?" he asked as the elves proceeded to ignore the spectacle, though Eragon's sparring partner did agitatedly twirl his sword in his grip.

Fadrau replied, "In his great battle against the Shade Durza, Eragon was terribly wounded and cursed so that his back pains him."

"And there's nothing you guys can do about it?" Danny asked incredulously. The elves seemed like a people who were quite advanced with the magic they could perform; could they not undo Eragon's curse?

"No," Fadrau said, his lips thinning and his eyes narrowing in displeasure almost imperceptibly.

Danny briefly thought about telling his guide that he could see a physical manifestation of the curse, that malignant miasma threaded into Eragon's back. Maybe he could try to help. But then he dismissed the thought, because with his luck, he'd accidentally wind up killing the Rider and then he'd be completely screwed.

But Fadrau was more perceptive than Danny gave him credit for. "You saw something?" he asked shrewdly as Eragon's attack was winding down.

Danny winced and rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah."

"What did you see? Perhaps it will help us find a cure to his condition."

Danny relayed what he'd seen uncomfortably. He hoped it would help Eragon rather than hurt him more. Despite the Rider's uncharitable attitude toward Danny, he still didn't wish Eragon ill. Danny was just that kind of bighearted person.

They left the training grounds and wandered some more in Ellesméra, though the relaxed mood had evaporated in the face of Eragon's agony. Danny was about to ask Fadrau to take him to the library so they could get to work when he heard a metallic clanking in the distance. Curious, because he didn't associate these elves with metalwork, he beckoned Fadrau to follow him to a house sung from a ring of trees that seemed to shelter a forge. An elf was bent over the forge, hammering out something on an anvil.

"That is Rhunön-elda," Fadrau said softly, reverently. "She is the greatest smith in the world. Let us not disturb her."

But as though the scrutiny had alerted her, Rhunön looked up from her work straight at Danny. Her face was lined with age. She barked something in the elves' language at him, and Fadrau answered respectfully, touching two fingers to his lips. She beckoned the two closer.

The elf woman snorted as they approached. "So, you only speak this foul language, eh? No matter. Even I have heard of the famous dimension-hopper who brought Fírnen to us." Rhunön grabbed Danny's chin to inspect his face closer. Danny resisted the urge to knock her hand away because he had a feeling that disrespecting this elf would be a bad idea. "You look human, but you're not, are you?" she murmured, assessing.

"Half-human," Danny corrected.

"Hmm," Rhunön said. "Come here. Show me what you can do." She turned back to the forge, putting aside the project she'd been working on – it looked like a shirt of chainmail armor.

Danny looked at Fadrau a bit incredulously at the brusque elf's demeanor. He hadn't met an elf yet who was anything less than elegant, but Rhunön seemed a bit rougher around the edges. He wasn't about to follow her instructions without a signal from his guide that such an action would be okay, though.

Fadrau nodded at him, looking a little star-struck. Danny rolled his eyes and approached the forge, where Rhunön was waiting impatiently. She presented him with a small bauble of intricately wrought swirls, and Danny took it, looking at her questioningly.

Rhunön gestured at the trinket. "I've heard you can destroy magic. Show me," she said. Danny glanced at her one last time before focusing on the metal in his hands and calling up ectoplasmic energy from his core. The air around him shimmered, laden with the script of magic, but so long as Danny focused only on the bauble, he'd be okay. He let plasma lick at the trinket, dissolving the enchantments he could see were placed there. When all the script was gone, he let his energy fade again so he didn't have to look at all the script floating around the forge and handed the twists of metal back to Rhunön. She accepted it with a hum before she placed it on the anvil and smashed it with a hammer, shattering it into pieces. Danny jumped.

"So it's true," Rhunön said in her raspy voice. "If the enchantments I'd placed on that were still active, I shouldn't have been able to scratch it." She leaned closer to Danny, eyes glittering. "I made an oath some time ago that I would like to get rid of. Can you do it?"

"Um," said Danny, who looked back at Fadrau for guidance but saw him only looking dumbfounded and wouldn't be much use for advice. "I might be able to? Give me a second…" He channeled energy to his eyes to look at the script floating around Rhunön. It took a little time to sort out which magic was merely a part of the surroundings and which magic was a part of her. "Uh, there's a lot of magic bound to you. I wouldn't know which one to even try to unravel. Sorry."

"Can you differentiate between them?"

"Well, yes, but it's all in a language I can't read," Danny said.

"The ancient language?" she asked, eyes shrewd.

"I… think so?" Danny said hesitantly. Fadrau had said something about a language bound to magic during their trip to Ellesméra.

Rhunön nodded. "Very well. Learn the ancient language, then come back to me and undo my oath. Do it, and I'll make you a sword the likes of which you'll not find an equal in Alagaësia."

Danny gaped at her. A sword? What on earth would he do with a sword? "Uh, I'm really not much of a sword fighter," he said, squirming under her gaze. He was good with hand-to-hand combat and energy manipulation, but he'd never had much of a chance or a need to learn how to use weapons.

Rhunön shook her head. "If you're going to be staying in our world, you're going to need to know swordplay." She tossed a poker at Danny, who caught it and stared stupidly at it for a second before there was a whistling in the air. Danny hurtled backward, out of the way of another poker that Rhunön had picked up and was attacking him with.

Now, Danny knew the difference between someone who was attacking to kill and someone who wanted a spar. Rhunön's assault definitely fell into the latter category, but the speed and strength with which she was attempting to engage him with was astonishing. Danny wouldn't last long without strengthening and speeding his own limbs with ectoplasmic energy.

"Quit dancing around!" Rhunön hollered as Danny fell back on his tried-and-true strategy of dodging weapons (usually while aiming for an opening with an ectoblast, but Danny had a feeling that hurtling the elf across the forge would not endear him to anyone). Finally, Danny had no choice but to block her poker with his own, gritting his teeth from the force of the blow but refusing to back down. His swings were wild and he couldn't hit her, but neither could she hit him, because he kept automatically turning intangible when it looked like her poker would strike him.

Finally, she called, "Enough!" once there were so many dents in their pokers that they were more crooked than straight. Danny immediately dropped his poker, panting. He was in shape from all the ghost fights he participated in, but he still found many workouts strenuous.

Rhunön snorted. "Well, your form is rough, and you can cheat with your abilities, but you've got good instincts, for someone who's never touched a sword before," she appraised. "You should go to the training arena and find someone to teach you."

Danny nodded, accepting the advice. The physical activity would keep him from becoming terribly bored during his stay in Ellesméra, because holing up in the library all day, no matter how pretty it probably was, sounded like a nightmare.

"Now, begone! You are quite intriguing, boy, but I tire of others' presence for now. Come back another time, once you have learned the ancient language." And with that, she returned to her shirt of chainmail, ignoring Danny. Normally, he'd be insulted, but impoliteness seemed to be her quirk, and masters of their craft, like Rhunön, deserved respect, anyway.

For all that she was rude, she was pretty interesting to talk to. She also didn't walk on eggshells around him, like he was something terribly dangerous. (Well, he was dangerous, but it was nice to be treated as a normal person by someone in this world.) Maybe he'd return and visit her sometime.