A BATTLE OF WIT
They looked like two pack of wolves evaluating their opponent: one side, there was a one-eyed human that clearly was far more dangerous that his cheerful attitude suggested, given the fact that he was likely tied to the impossibility that the whole forest they were in was; on the other side, the three elves were naturally cautious and wary of traps, bu they couldn't any the sheer life around them. From the lush green grass to the smells of plants at the peak of their lives.
The staredown lasted for four minutes, during which nobody really knew how to approach the other. Surprisingly, it wasn't the human to break the silence first: "Who are you?" asked the elf with the spear, who made no mystery of his distrust towards the one-eyed man, pointing his weapon at him in a ready stance.
"I get that these are dangerous times, but surely going around and threatening peaceful scholars in their homes isn't quite warranted yet, is it? Especially since my foxes are the ones that invited you here." the answer came a bit clipped as the one-eyed man frowned openly at the archer of the trio of elves.
"The fact that you got three foxes to invite us here does, in fact, warrant a measure of caution." the spear-wielder pointed out with what could have been an amused tilt of his voice.
"I'll ask only once more: who are you?" the archer of the group repeated, and the blank expressions of the trio of elves made David think that perhaps he had miscalculated quite heavily.
As David rose his hands in the air with open palms and started to answer, Raven showed that not only she had given the slip to the trio of troublesome foxes her master had previously sicced on her, but that she had also returned in time to witness the last part of the staredown, and apparently, that she had enough of being ignored, choosing to land lightly on the shaft of the spear, she croaked out loud: "Old Tom Bombadil is a merry fellow,
Bright blue his jacket is, and his boots are yellow.
None has ever caught him yet, for Tom, he is the Master:
His songs are stronger songs, and his feet are faster.
Oh! Tom Bombadil, Tom Bombadillo!
By water, wood and hill, by reed and willow,
Thor 'em down, or eat 'em,
Light 'em up or sing 'em,
But answer them, and fast,
your guests, finally, they're here at last!"
The one-eyed man sharply hissed at the white-feathered bird, startling her away and forcing her to fly to the edge of the fire pit, where the white flames seemed to... coo at her in a display of closeness.
"Raven, you crippled even Tolkien, I'm sure that he's turning in his grave, well done." the man's answer was so dry that it would have desiccated even the great Menoa Tree, and only then the one eyed-man turned towards the three elves: "My name, despite what that blasted bird would wish you to hear, is David, not Tom. And really, weapons are unnecessary."
Following the procedure that the group of else had established when meeting a potentially dangerous unknown, the two males shot their consciousness forward in an attempt to gauge the intent of this stranger, while the female unsheathed her sword and took a step back, ready to either charge ahead or bolt away, her leather duffle bag held securely in the crook of her arm.
"My head really isn't the place for the reckless," the admonishment came softly from the one-eyed man, but clear and without any undercurrent of fear: "But there is no reason to harm one another here."
The exchange developed itself at the speed of thought: the consciousness of the two male elves immediately zeroed in on the stranger in front of them, but if they expected to need to fight their way through a set of barriers, of thoughts so focused as to hide everything else, they remained disappointed. The entered his mind without a whisper of token resistance, and their sight of the magic, hidden forest in which their bodies were faded from their senses:
...and their world was a whit napkin fluttering over the expanse of the world, history and events that depicted scenes apparently normal flowed like rivers or landslides downhill or in rushes that rose to cover a sky made of thoughts built with tongues the elves didn't known, while colours loss meaning and the experiences that flew across and beyond them assumed the consistency of sand, each grain a single instant in a disorganized selection of concepts that expressed more and less than what could be understood...
...one of the elves focused all of himself on a single grain of sand of the sea of dunes swarming around him and...
...And I was leaf and hurricane, while my body slowly but surely stopped breathing, I was steel and luck and fluffy and drowsiness, I was and thought and believed and became...
The spear-wielding elf wrenched himself away from the feeling of falling in every direction at once while his inner ear howled in agony, his balance utterly broken from the brief dip inside that madman's head, while his archer companion had avoided narrowing his focus too much, and was still...
...the sky billowed and was a sea of glass, reflections mismatched one from another as images of dragons without forelegs roared in defiance while a single hand gesture called forth lightning itself from clouds that suddenly were a flower field where a strange brownish being with floppy, pointed ears tended to vegetables and eyed distrustfully a bunch of bees that seemed eager to crunch away from a leaf that suddenly became a strange cobbled road where all the buildings whee tilted diagonally towards a white marble structure with scratches that were clearly letters in a tongue he had never seen before morphed and rearranged themselves in something the elf could read:
Enter, stranger, but take heed
Of what awaits the sin of greed
For those who take, but do not earn
Must pay most dearly in their turn
So if you seek beneath our floors
A treasure that was never yours
Thief, you have been warned, beware
Of finding more than treasure there.
The words jumped from the surface they had been etched on and flew together picturing a vast snake as the surroundings lost cohesiveness and turned in tall mountains inside a cavern that held within a portion of the world, and shadow coalesced in a vast snake with a single plume over his head that...
With a shudder that almost caused him to let loose the arrow he had at the ready, the second elf found himself on his knees, forcing himself to keep down his last meal while the white fire rose calmly from the ground, drawing a two meters tall spiral that exuded more heat than it should have been able to, its behaviour clearly threatening, only to be stopped by the strange human the elves had stumbled upon: "Fleur, can we try to get along with those that actually have half an idea of how magic works here?"
Returning once more to the elves, that had quickly managed to right themselves and maintained a facade of indifference that David knew was faked, because really, his mobile home was the fucking best, and dipping into the head of someone of his skill with occlumency was plain stupid, "Can I offer you some tea? I grow the plants myself, they're quite decent."
The spear-wielding elf frowned lightly and started speaking in the True Tongue, glancing over at the female of the group and letting her know that while they hadn't been able to glean anything of relevance from the man, there wasn't malicious intent or thirst for violence in what they had been able to witness.
David grimaced a bit while the musical sounding words went completely over his head: "Sorry, I can't speak your magic tongue yet." he waved his right hand towards the blackboard: "As you can see and as you've likely overheard, I'm just starting with figuring it out. So you'll have to make do with whatever humans are speaking these days, I apologize for the inconvenience."
Ok, the first thing I have to do is confirming that they aren't the 'evil guys' of this universe. David reasoned in the safe confines of his mind. If they're not child-murdering assholes, then they're my best bet to figure out magic here, and helpfully gave Fleur her body back...
But what can I offer them in order to make them want to help me? David, aware of his position in the scheme of things in the Eragon-verse, wouldn't have put it beyond the elven queen to keep help for Fleur hostage in exchange of his dedication to their war. And that was a risk he didn't want to take, since he had always kept a hands-off policy regarding the canon events of a place. Granted, it hadn't served him that well against Voldemort, but in his defence, he speculated that after his fist immersions in Soul Magic, he had started to become more and more inhuman.
The white fire returned to stir calmly in the firepit, causing the one eyed-man to nod thankfully to it: "So, I've told you my name?" he started with half confused expression, "But I arrived here less than a couple of months ago and I'm still finding my feet, if there are rituals of welcome for your people, I fear that I don't know them."
The elves frowned at the never heard before expression, before exchanging another glance among themselves. With a curt nod, the archer among them turned his back on the encounter and climbed up from along the staircase, following orders that had been communicated with movements of the fingers so fast that the human couldn't pick up on them.
"You don't look like an itinerant merchant, but have their accent and cadence." The male that had just removed his helm spoke, his voice managing to keep his musical quality even as words that David knew belonged to the Common tongue fell out of his mouth.
That caused the one-eyed man to smile almost sheepishly as he lifted a glass jar with a wooden handle from behind a tree: "I feared that I would end up picking up their accent and cadence, but there's nothing I can do about it now." his Allspeakcluster started working overtime, reading to pick up any new ord that the elves would be unknowingly teaching him.
To the delicate and quite perceptive ears of the elves, the difference between how he spoke the first part of his answer and how he had pronounced 'accent and cadence' was stark and obvious, and it brought a deepening on the frown on the male's face: "Are you mocking me?"
That brought the man to a brief stop as his hand cupped the flames out of the firepit and slid them in the glass jar: "That would be because I've just learned those words from you." he said as he rose with the semi-sentient fire churning on itself inside of the new container: "I told you that I've arrived less than a couple of months ago, what I've learned about the tongues here I've copied from an itinerant caravan that I've stumbled upon in the grass planes."
As the elves, bewildered, started to cautiously walk behind him, the three foxes from before once more reached the small group, running excited circles around them before a sharp barking from the one-eyed man sent them scampering upstairs. At the inquisitive looks that he felt against his back, David simply tossed over his back: "I've had them keep a lookout during the nights in exchange for food and shelter, but they're less than three years old, so they'll be overexcited for a while still."
The implications of his previous statement, especially when taken into consideration along with his latest answer, only rose more questions, and he took a guilty pleasure out of it. "I hadn't known that humans had developed such methods to tame... foxes." the female of the duo finally spoke, and her voice, to the careful ears of David, sounded like one that expected to be heeded.
Too bad. He snorted: "And I haven't heard your names yet. What a coincidence."
As he started to walk downstairs, he shot a glance over his shoulder, making it clear that he expected some sort of exchange to go on, if only to sate their respective curiosity. Please take the bait, please take the bait.
By then, they had reached the second-floor room, and while the make had already his moment of confusion when he first saw it, the breath of the female elf got stuck in her throat at yet another collection of impossibilities. She remained still on the staircase for a couple of seconds, giving David enough time to tie the jar of whit fire to a cable in the centre of the room, from where it shone upon everything clearly.
"My name," she started when it appeared clear that the man was more than comfortable with keeping silent, "is Arya."
Almost laconically, the second followed suit: "And I'm Fäolin."
"Feel free to take a seat or roam around, there is nothing dangerous in this room." once again, the implication that there could be something dangerous in the other rooms sounded loudly in the silence.
Arya took a seat on an armchair, while Fäolin wasted no time in setting himself at the ready on the other side of the room, his stance deceptively relaxed even if he was ready to strike at a moment notice. The female elf frowned at how the man had spoken, she wasn't a stranger to the game of what was said and what was implied, and while she could appreciate wit like everyone else, she disliked it when it was used against her.
"So, how did humans start taming foxes without the Ancient Tongue?" she repeated her previous question, not bothering with cloaking it in a distracted observation to fish out answers.
David returned only then towards the centre of the room, depositing a tray holding tea, honey cups and what appeared to be biscuits in the stylized form of wither a fox or a raven on the wooden table, only then conceding himself a vulpine grin of delight: "I couldn't speak for the other humans, but, my method is... quite unique." with a movement too fast even for the eye of the elves to follow, he dropped back on an empty armchair, and by the time his ass had touched it, there was no longer a man seated in front of Arya, but a one-eyed fox with the same silvery patch on its missing eye.
Fäolin immediately pointed his spear back at the clearly smug fox, who barked out a squeaky laugh at both of the freaked out elves before returning to his previous shape and picking up a cup of tea from the tray, generously dunking in it three spoons of honey before stirring. Everything happened while a self-satisfied grin that managed to point out how much his face could resemble the one of his alternative, furry form was fixed on his face.
"So, my turn for questions now?" he asked innocently as he sipped his far too sweet tea and pretended to not notice the magic that was being used to check for poisons in the drink he had offered.
"It was," the green-eyed elf managed to regain her composure exploiting the fact that unknown mage had asked an open question: "Why is that a mage as clearly accomplished as you are, does not know the Ancient Tongue?" she asked.
David sighed exasperatedly as an answer, rolling his own eye in what he hoped managed to convey his annoyance, even if privately he recognized that he had willingly acted to confuse them more than they had already been: "Back home, magic worked differently. There was no... how did you call it? Ancient Tongue... yes, I can see how it's more accurate than True Tongue as a name to refer to it. Anyway," he caught himself from rambling away his theories, "back home, everything was either alive or a projection of something... more. I feel that an explanation regarding how I do things would take years, and you still wouldn't believe me."
The elven beauty took a sip from his tea, finding it unlike any other that she had ever tasted, and she took the numerous clues that the one-eyed man had left around for her to see, putting them together in a sentence that would have been unbelievable if not for the historical origins of the elves themselves: "You're not from Alagaësia." she accused him.
He shrugged as an answer: "My turn. Is the Ancient Tongue a complete language?"
Arya rose an eyebrow, remembering clearly the logic and hammer-like approach of the reasoning she and hers had eavesdropped back in the... hidden forest where is day when outside is night... and she forced herself to ignore the implications of what his kind of magic was capable of in order to nod, carefully looking for another question to make that would solve more questions than the ones it rose, for once. He had implied heavily enough that he wasn't from Alagaësia, and frankly, given the number of inconsistencies that she could observe between his uncommon politeness that ignored any form of bowing, the otherworldly magic that characterized... well, everything that seemed to surround the one-eyed man, she found herself already believing that he indeed came from beyond the sea.
While indeed it was an absurd idea, she couldn't help but think that if someone looked for a lie to cover their origins, they would have chosen something more credible.
Selecting the first question from her mental list, she spoke: "How did you learn the local human tongue in less than a couple of months?" she hoped that her question would shed some light over his kind of magic, or at least make him stumble as he tried to figure out a way to keep his knowledge of the Ancient Tongue hidden.
The man twisted his wrist, pointing randomly at their surroundings: "A complete answer would mean teaching you several branches of magic that I'm pretty sure can't be replicated here, but my method could be framed along the lines of 'Because periods that convey an intent have reflections in the micro alterations of someone's face and body-language, which is instinctive and natural for most humanoid races'."
The implications of his answer were, once again, difficult to properly understand, and she took the time he spent looking for his own question to elaborate her own understanding of exactly who this uncommon human was and what he could represent.
"And yes," he added as a sign of goodwill: "That means that I have to figure out the Names on my own, or learn the Ancient Tongue through study. Words so deeply tied to this existence are not something I can learn simply listening to them. If you were to name something in the ancient tongue while I'm thinking about it, I could guess it more likely than not. But only for Names of Things I have more than a passing familiarity with."
"Why did you come to Alagaësia?" she asked, dreading the possible answers. Arya couldn't avoid thinking that if an explorer, if he truly was one, wanted to learn about another continent, the faster and more effective way would be by staying in its cities, not by hiding oneself in a secret location, no matter how comfortable. Besides, if the man in front of her was an emissary of sorts, he would have to make contact with a representative, again, something that he couldn't do secluded ad alone. If he gallivanted across the world for the kick of it however, it would explain his generally relaxed despite having been held at spearpoint, as well as his curiosity.
"By mistake." was the laconic answer, and it came so quick and in such an earnest grimace from the one-eyed wizard, that once more the main though of the else was that if he had wanted to lie, he could have found a better story to feed them. In that moment, the curious white-feathered bird that had proved itself remarkably similar to Bladgen flew in the room, settling calmly on a perch over the mantle of a small fireplace realized in a glossy, black stone. The flapping of wings and her mocking laugh did nothing to reduce the confusion and disbelief that David's answer had risen.
'By mistake' the words were repeated in the thoughts of the two elves, flooring them once more. And Arya was slowly coming to the realization that the man in front of her behaved more like a werecat than a human. He was clearly curious and interested, so he showed just enough to elicit interest in turn, setting up the whole conversation as an exchange of information. However, while he had time to prepare himself for the opportunity of asking what he hadn't been able to determine on his own during his months alone in his home, he left his interlocutor, in this case Arya, wondering about everything, and his answers, which came without a context, were far less useful than she liked.
Abandoning the pretence of playing around his scheme, and hoping to throw him on his backfoot, she needled him: "If you're curious about Alagaësia, why not roam the land? Wouldn't you find your answers faster that way?" she was clearly not getting out anything from the why or how he landed in Alagaësia, so she might as well make her questions count.
Once more, the one-eyed man seemed to force himself to hold back a vulpine grin: "I could have, yeah, I started with following around a human caravan, I started picking up the local tongue from them. and then..."
He seemed to sober up a bit, his expression losing his cheerfulness for a few instants: "To know what's going on on a large scale, one is better served by observing the lowest social class. And the itinerant merchants suited me just fine, I guessed the level of technology available to the common men from how they lived, and I read between the lines enough to understand that I would be better served by staying away from this Glabatorix that apparently has been ruling for several human generations."
The topic had become immediately something that one wouldn't bring up for a polite conversation, but perhaps his reaction and how he was talking about it were revealing more about this fox-human-mage than anything else had up to that point.
"I had to deal with another megalomaniac back home, it has been... troublesome." David eyed the white fire suspended above their ears, which was uncaringly roaming inside of its glass jar.
With a sigh, the human rose from his seated position and unlatched the jar from the ceiling, walking towards a fireplace made out of a glossy, black stone that could have been obsidian, where he poured the white flames, which looked a bit more lively: "I haven't introduced you, I'm sorry."
"This," David said indicating the uncountable amount of flames dancing merrily over a chunk of oak wood in the fireplace, "is Fleur, my ... I guess you could say wife?"
The fire blazed out of the confines of the fireplace then, as if in defiance of his statement: "I would have asked you eventually!" the one-eyed wizard was quick to take a step back and keep his appendages away from the enraged fire, making both Arya and Fäolin' jaws drop slightly. The man turned towards the two elves with a sheepish expression on his face: "Let's just say it's complicated."
He dropped the glass jar and walked towards the opposite end of the room, where his kitchen was located: "The magic that I was capable of there wasn't enough to either let Fleur regain her consciousness or regain her body. I was hoping that we would be able to with the magic of this land."
"Fleur..." Arya repeated the name, founding it just as outlandish and uncommon as the one of the one-eyed man, before turning her head towards the man that was busy moving around in what she could guess was the section of the house reserved to cooking: "She was like you, then, before?"
Again, Ary found herself surprised at the sheer amount of questions that this man raised with his mere presence. And it wasn't that he wasn't forthcoming with his answers, but even as he did his best to explain his circumstances and the parts of his past that he felt comfortable sharing, there was just so much new in everything that she was hearing, that she couldn't help but smile a bit at the wonders of the world that Galbatorix hadn't managed to taint.
David opened the refrigerator and started taking out stuff, missing the faint smile of wonder on the she-elf's lips as he answered: "It's my turn to make a question. How long would I have to wait before being able to walk around without risk of being kidnapped by Galbatorix? He doesn't sound like a merry and jolly fellow, and I'd like to avoid him if I can." the elves both had to withhold a sigh, this encounter was starting to lose its veneer of strangeness and growing up to be mentally challenging even if they had several decades of experience with dealing with that kind of back and forth.
Arya narrowed her eyes at David's ignoring her question in order to make one of his own. The man started to look obsessed with keeping up the order in which they were exchanging information: "A complete answer would mean teaching you several centuries of hour history that I'm pretty sure can't be retold quickly," she said mimicking his previous answer when she inquired about his way of doing magic, " but a general answer would be..." and there she lost whatever enjoyment she had found in the occasion of throwing his words back in his face, "...we don't know."
David hummed thoughtfully as he picked out a couple of onions and started cutting them into little cubes, lighting up a cooker and placing a pan over it, pouring some olive oil in it before getting started with the tomatoes. Slowly, almost careful to not expose their exact role in the conflict, the two elves started to give him a rundown of the history of their land, for the most part confirming to the one-eyed man that he was in the series of fantasy novels that he remembered.
David poured the boiling water into a large pot, switching it with the boiler over the still lit cooker, before throwing in it a handful of salt and pouring in a good kilogram of pasta (all the gods bless the runes that kept stasis charms active over the pantry). While he was busy cooking, he spoke: "There have been a lot of Urgals and imperial soldiers roaming just outside of my territory in the last weeks, in exchange for a few days of reprieve in my home, would you be amenable to tell me the important parts of this land's history?"
And before Arya could stop dead his offer, David tossed the diced tomatoes in the full pan along with the onions, using their sizzling as an excuse to ignore her: "It would throw off your pursuer, if you have one, and avoid you the trouble of the series of ambushes that they're setting up." he tried to sweeten the deal.
At that, Arya made a grimace that didn't manage to mar her fair features: "We can stop for the night, but more time would give those ambush a better occasion to prepare."
"Not if I was the one to move you." the mage retorted as he poured the now cooked pasta into a colander he had placed over the sink, shaking it a little bit before tossing it all in the pan with the onions and tomatoes. the one-eyed man lowered the flame under it to the bare minimum and mixed the pasta with the vegetables.
While he finished organizing the bowls in which he was offering a late snack to the elves he clarified: "The orchard and this room are where I am, those looking for you wouldn't risk wasting their covers on a fox running in the underbrush. But even then, my senses are refined enough during that I can take a large way around if you give me a direction, being an animal comes with a splendid sense of direction."
Once more forcing himself to ignore the implications of the impossible magic the one-eyed man was talking about, Fäolin made his scepticism known walking forward with a frown on his fair features: "So you'd help us?" Just like that?"
David left the kitchen then, holding a trio of cups in his left hand filled with silverware and a bowl of pasta in his right. At the questioning looks he got he shrugged, putting the food on the table: "You people looked angry, and from the merchants, I know that dwarves and elves actually work against the king."
"You're not answering my question." the male elf said, not making a move towards the mouth-watering looking food.
"I'm getting the idea that Galbatorix would enjoy more poking around Fleur and torture me for information than help us," the answer came with a light tinge of irony: "and I'm hoping that helping you out now will bring me enough goodwill that you'll help me learn this land's magic, so that I can help Fleur by myself."
Arya eyed his back thoughtfully as he retreated towards the kitchen: "Elves don't eat meat." she warned as an afterthought, her mind busy considering the options that having this mage's help would open for her task.
"There is only flour, water, salt, vegetables and spices." the one-eyed man tossed back: "Since the first time I've turned into a fox, I found out that I tend to prefer white meats, and those I prefer to eat off from the animals I hunt."
Arya maintained her calm expression, but David could hear disapproval rolling off both elves from the minute way their shoulders had stiffened: "I'm guessing that it's against your religion eating meat?"
"Our culture," the she-elf corrected, "would be a more appropriate term."
"What is your people relationship with humans? Or dwarfs, or Urgals, for what it's worth." the curious man asked as he settled down and started filling up bowls. There was more than enough food for himself and the three elves, even if the third was keeping vigil outside.
"Why do you ask?" Arya asked as she started to eat, letting herself express her surprise with raised eyebrows because of the tastiness of the food ( only after having checked again for poisons).
"Because of your surprise and general disbelief caused by having me, a human, as the reason behind magic that you can't even begin to explain." David explained calmly as he handed over a full bowl to Fäolin, who accepted it with a nod.
Seeing as the elves were still trying to figure out what he was meaning, and wanting to avoid a diplomatic incident so soon in his unwilling adventure in Alagaësia, he decided to toss them a piece of information in order to appease them and make them think about something else: "Regarding my diet... you have to understand that I am a fox just as much I am a man. The two things are not in conflict, because as I change shape I retain my mind, even if the instinct is never completely gone. That is true even as I stay in a human shape, I will always prefer burrows in the ground to fortified towers."
The conversation lulled for a few seconds as Arya mulled over David's words, with everyone eating their food and trying to figure out what was actually going on. Frankly, David had been caught a bit on the backfoot from the meeting with one of the main characters so soon from his appearance in Alagaësia, and he had bulshitted as much as he could in order to establish himself as a potential ally into the elves' eyes, knowing beforehand that the actual mechanics of magic weren't going to fall in his lap without outside help.
David, considering the not indifferent risk of turning into a Shade by mistake if he tried to play with spirits, and knowing to stay the fuck away from Galbatorix, had been left with either smoke out Brom, the paranoid one-hundred years old capable of killing him with a word, or place himself in one of the forests where it made sense for the elves to eventually pass through.
That said, with the appearance of a trio of elves led by a green-eyed, black-haired female had made sure that not only knew that he had arrived before canon, but he now strongly suspected that there was some higher game afoot. Seriously, which were the odds that of all the places he could land, he would find himself away from the big players, but just in line to be picked up by the Carriers of the Egg? He had chosen a direction at random at first!
Chance was that there was some form of higher-order or 'fate' afoot. Maybe important events behave like in the potterverse? he kept wondering throughout the whole exchange he had carried on with the elves.
The conversation started again, and went ahead well into the night (even if it was daytime at the upper level of the trunk), far enough that Fäolin left the trunk when his companion came to exchange himself with him. He was of the silent tipe, answering to the name Gwenlin, and the archer had quickly determined, even if only thanks to a suggestion from Arya, that they were safe enough in David's care that she didn't need to be watched constantly.
The male elf had since then quickly fallen asleep on one of the chairs present in the room, refusing the offer of an actual bed since it would have forced him to leave the room.
The shift from the verbal duel between Arya and David had been subtle but constant, and as they talked, the natural standoffish attitude of the elf had slowly bled out, as well as the insistence with which the one-eyed man had clung to extracting information.
With Gwenlin armed with a powerful bow resting not far, and Fleur's quiescent state casting the room in warm and soothing light, David had deemed appropriate bringing out a small selection of spirits from one of the cabinets where Fleur had forced to keep them back when they had first started travelling across the world. After a few quiet sniffs of the possibilities, and a small litany of spells to check against poisons, Arya had opted for a glass of myrtle liqueur, while David had opted for some limoncello, which reminded him of his travels across Italy in the first world he had found himself stranded in.
"So... how's the war going isn't exactly a nice subject, eh?" the one-eyed man wondered as he sat down with his glass half full, his eye never leaving the enigmatic figure of his interlocutor. When she simply raised an eyebrow at him, as to challenge his mind to say something even dumber, he simply shrugged.
"You told me some of this land's history, but I'm actually concerned regarding my future. What is being done to remove this Galbatorix from power?" he asked quietly, not really waiting for an answer, "You elves seem to be faster and stronger than your ordinary human, I'll grant you that, but a group dedicated to warfare behind enemy lines isn't as light as yours. Unless I'm greatly mistaken about what the powers in this land are, but given your own recounting, I'm doubting it."
"Do you also know war perhaps?" Arya's reply came just as quietly as his reasoning had left his lips, but it carried a genuine curiosity. Once more, the man that couldn't have seen more than thirty winters talked with a depth of understanding that was uncommon at best and unsettling at worst.
David grimaced a bit in front of her surprise: "I now how mortal races tend to behave, and war is... a dramatically common event."
The green-eyed elf tilted her head almost as she was a hawk: "You talk like you are not mortal." she observed sharply.
The one-eyed mage tapped his nose twice with his index finger: "Ah! I'll have you know that I've managed to keep off the assault of time for a couple of centuries, or maybe some more, I'm not really sure, back home, and in particular, near some places that I enchanted, time tended to be... wobbly."
That was the umpteenth statement that would have given Arya a serious headache had she tried to figure out how it worked. If it was even true. She couldn't quite shake off from her mind that the wizard wasn't being as forthcoming as he appeared, or that he was being deliberately misleading. If what he was saying was true, not only he had almost twice her years, but he was capable of magic that bore a stark resemblance, in its effects if in nothing else, to the elixirs of Angela, of which little was known beyond what she let others glimpse.
Before Arya could bring forth the similarity and question the one-eyed man about a possible relation with the Venerable, David opened his mouth once more: "So you're not applying guerrilla warfare. Why?"
She left most of her concentration to work on figuring out this strange man, while her mouth struggled to repeat the unfamiliar sounds: "Guh-ri-luh?"
He blinked for an instant, before launching himself in a concise explanation: "Guerrilla warfare is a form of irregular warfare in which small groups of combatants, such as paramilitary personnel, armed civilians, or irregulars, use ambushes, sabotage, raids, petty warfare, hit-and-run tactics, and mobility, to fight a larger and less-mobile traditional military. It's extremely effective if applied by the population against the oppressors, because in a city, every door can hide a cell of freedom-fighters."
She nodded at the explanation, finding that it matched the behaviour that common sense would lead to apply to a desperate group... and Arya had to hid a grimace when she linked why he wondered about that kind of warfare in relationship with the situation in Alagaësia: "Most of the enemy's army is made up of conscripts, and what the army would come to lack in terms of resources would be taken from the mouth of civilians."
That brought forward another question: "Magic users are pretty rare, are they not? Why not organizing striking teams to erase them? Letting a mage bude his time is a bad idea, it was true even back home. And you can't deny that the less experienced the enemy's magic users are, the more opportunities open up for your side."
A faint smile tugged at Arya' lips then: "You don't have a great opinion of warriors, do you?"
"Swinging around a piece of steel instead of foreseeing and planning around one's enemy sounds like a stupid tactic in my book." David shrugged before taking another sip from his glass.
As an offer to change topic, the she-elf offered a free piece of information: "Many magic protections can be cast beforehand, and can be broken by bleeding off their energy through physical violence."
"That still doesn't explain why there aren't swarms of mage-assassins trained by your people, who I understand are the most versed in magic, roaming the land." the rebuke came naturally from David, even as if he wondered how to bring up the topic that most interested him.
At her silence, the one-eyed man kept up his questioning of what on his book was simple poor plot development: "It seems to me that this is a cold war between the triad composed by Varden, Elves and Dwarfs under the cover of Surda"
"How do you know about Surda?" she asked with a steely glint in her voice and a knife already out of its sheathe
David dropped his mostly empty glass on the table and rose his hands in a peaceful gesture, speaking quickly to not get killed: "I supposed that a megalomaniac, unbeatable, immortal mage would have erased every clear opponent that he could clearly see, leaving alone dwarves and elves because they're just too much trouble to lure out from their homes. Besides, no state appreciate being the small neighbour of the Great Big Bad, Surda's best bet is that somehow he can ride the wave of revolution that the Triad will actually bring forward at some point."
And when her eyes didn't leave his, he amended: "And I threw the idea out to see how you would react, I'm sorry."
Displeased, Arya let the knife unsheathed but ready to be used, the mood having quickly soured as she once more had failed to not think about the grave reality of her circumstances. "You're not incorrect in deeming the current state of the conflict as 'cold'. Mostly, Galbatorix stays in the capital, occasionally moving out to cower an upstart Lordling that would destabilize a region or another. And as for... the 'Triad', as you called it, we... we're biding our time."
David tilted his head curiously: "When the opponent doesn't weaken with age, 'biding your time' doesn't quite sound like a winning strategy."
The green eyes that did nothing to hid the sharp intellect of their owner once more found his only full orbit, studying him, trying to piece together everything that she had picked up on, ignoring nothing, trying to figure out exactly what she could or could not tell to him: "The Oath-Breaker is... powerful."
That was a terribly oblique way to state out what was the true reason behind the state of the war, in David's opinion, but he understood her reticence, really, it wasn't even fair that he had so much information regarding future events that it made any kind of verbal sparring quite hopeless for the green-eyed elf.
"I'm familiar with the cause behind the dragging on of war being a single unmatched wizard. It was the situation back home." the one-eyed man offered with a tone that he hoped offered understanding.
And with the story that followed, Arya got to learn about the plight of David's home country. That the separation between those capable of magic and those unable to grasp it was so stark as to require a Statute of Secrecy had confused her in some measure, the very idea that those capable of magic would accept to hide, or that they would be seen as alien by the rest of the populace, that would go as far as burn them alive, unsure if it was enough to deal with them...
Arya shook her head, slowly accepting that perhaps David hadn't been lying. The backstory he built had more details than those needed to be believable, no, not only that, but many of those details were so outlandish that one would naturally assume the one-eyed wizard to be simply mad. But then again... either his delirium was so vast and encompassing that it covered everything the wizard was capable of thinking, or, more simply, he was merely been truthful.
Sensing her disbelief, or perhaps simply because he wanted to steer the conversation away from the grim topic of war, at some point David has scampered behind one of his aisles of books, his steps against the ground making it sound like he had walked further than he would have been able to if Arya were to use her eyes to determine the dimensions of the room she was in, returning with a couple of tomes that had seen better days.
Despite being unable to read the characters within, which was only another clue to the truthfulness of David, or, if she were to listen to her more paranoid instincts, another proof that everything was an extremely complex and unreasonable set-up, Arya' eyes quickly became fascinated with the moving drawings of beasts that she couldn't have imagined had she tried with all of herself.
She had been about to ask in regard of the mechanic that allowed the ink on the pages to move so naturally, before controlling herself and imagining that whatever explanation of that magic would require those 'several years of lessons' that David had mentioned before. They remained in companionable silence while Arya perused the tomes he had brought out from the shelves and the wizard thought about his next move.
He had confirmed that he was in the Eragon-verse, and had a clear picture of the situation, something that he couldn't claim his memories had retained. He was pretty sure now that his better bet to learn magic, in a manner that didn't require him to waste centuries he no longer had at his disposal into looking for Names, was to find a willing and reasonably competent teacher amog the elves, which seemed by far the most competent at the art.
Hopefully, one of them would be able to 'unlock' his Life Force, or whatever they did to channel magic. And the ability to cast his mind around, like he remembered Eragon was capable of doing to take stock of his surroundings (he remembered the meditative session Oromis had his student perform), sounded just dead useful since his sensitivity towards the surrounding 'intents' had faded along with his connection with the world.
"This tome isn't a clever joke on your part is it?" Arya wondered after a while, not realizing that the words had left her mouth.
David quickly realized what she meant by eyeing the cover of the tome: Of Dragonlore. "No." he quickly answered, "I'm guessing that your dragon breeds are dissimilar from the ones drawn on those pages?" he asked knowing that she was unable to read the characters that explained the best ways to kill one of those giant lizards.
I'm in no rush to explain that back there dragons were tons of firebreathing lizards with the brain the size of a raspberry. The one-eyed wizard realized that there had been enough cultural shock for one night.
Baffled once more at the vast differences between this strange, curious man and all of the people in Alagaësia, Arya just commented: "Breeds... no, in Alagaësia there are no 'breeds'... dragons simply are, and as they've always been, a part of the land."
The one-eyed man nodded thoughtfully: "You did mention that there was a war between your people and dragons, I remember. I'm surprised that they were used only by the riders, I would have guessed that in a world without Statute, they would have been a much more marketable community."
Arya's upper lip lifted itself almost without her permission, and she caught herself an instant before actually growling: "Dragons are not cattle! They're sapient, noble beings! Alagaësia and all of her people are poorer without them!" her throne was a tad deeper than what David had gotten used to, but she kept her volume under control, taking care of not waking up
That caused a sigh to escape from David's lips, accompanied by another gesture of surrender: "I believe you," he stated, mentally crying about the umpteenth cultural chasm between them that he had to face, "Our kinds of dragons were lacking in the brain department, and so they got relegated as extremely valuable cattle... I'm guessing that when you say sapient you mean actually capable of thought?" he asked referring to her words regarding the dragons of Alagaësia.
At her seething and almost outraged expression, he chose to press on in order to divert her disappointment: "I apologize for whatever insult I caused to you. If you look in your other tome, you'll find many sapient creatures of my home, obviously we didn't harm them." If you don't consider the devastation of their habitats for the masses' benefit. He amended his words in his mind.
"How did all of the dragons here disappear if they were... oh," he stopped himself, remembering the opening of the horrid movie that had crippled the Inheritance Cycle: "Galbatorix is a Rider drunk on power, it makes sense with everything else you've been telling me."
Then, tilting his head towards the elf that he had appeased with his apology, he tried what he had been building up this conversation for: "You're waiting for another dragon, or Rider, to equal Glabatorix, that's what the Triad is amassing resources for."
Arya kept her expression perfectly blank, not giving away anything, she had learned to not harshly question his knowledge or deductions after he used her reaction to confirm Surda's involvement with the war, and she returned to study the curious images of beasts that she couldn't have ever dreamt about, not rising to the bait.
"If I could lead you to this next rider... would your people be willing to help me?" the offer came carefully, hesitantly, and David knew that, differently from the information about his home country. What he was offering, no, what he was barely hinting at, had implications that couldn't be ignored, and rose questions that couldn't be avoided. Finding them the next Rider would bring me a lot of goodwill, perhaps enough gratitude to be granted all the help I need for Fleur, and if I can pull this off, they'll likely take my foreknowledge as something strange that I can or cannot have obtained from one of my 'readings'.
Arya methodically rose to her feet, her hand hovering over the hilt of the sword she had at her side, while her green-eyes seemed to be able to cut cleanly across the dimly lit room: "What do you know?"
The question came out flatly, with a promise and threat of violence behind it that couldn't have been more clear had she shouted it. Gone was the relief of being able to rest away from the teeth of a sudden ambush, gone was the indulgence towards a possible ambassador to a continent that could have helped against Galbatorix. In Arya's voice and mind, remained only the sudden hope that this stranger was offering, and the potential rage if he was lying to her.
"Raven hasn't made a riddle foretelling the future in years, but she's not the only one capable of scrying events yet to develop." he reassured the elven lady that was very much capable of killing him before he could blink.
The bird in question, which had remained asleep with her head hidden behind a wing, puffed out her chest as she croaked a laugh: "By my beak and bone,
I can more than see
The elder alone,
who can't dream to flee,
his blood hidden, and a brother,
change awakened, and to dream another,
to fly on the fly,
truth is your ally!"
She concluded the confusing and headache-inducing riddle with another of her squawking laughs as she flew upstairs, stealing a tired sigh from her master: "This will bring nothing but headaches."
"Does it mean something of particular relevance?" the she-elf asked, knowing well that half the time, Blandgen enjoyed sprouting nonsense only to make those that tried to figure out his meanings grow irrationally skittish about nothing.
David shrugged, honestly surprised that Raven had chosen that moment to try her hand in foreseeing. Sadly, lacking the precise knowledge of the canon events that he had enjoyed in the potterverse, he could only make speculations: "Her prophecies tend to make sense after the events unfold by themselves."
"Returning to your question, I suspect that you're looking for this Rider, and from the history you told me, you'll find one only if a dragon egg hatches for him." his lone eye fell meaningfully on the leather bag that Arya never let out of her sight.
"With it, I can likely point you where you need to go." he maintained his expression blank, forcing his breath to remain calm and constant: he knew that Eragon and Carvahall were the only things that he needed to say in order to point the elves in the right direction.
Arya slowly unsheathed her sword, eyeing him with a flat expression while her free hand went into her leather bag, extracting with care a beautiful, blue stone that immediately captivated all of David's attention.
Licking his lips and gulping slowly, the one-eyed wizard could feel a cold sheen of sweat forming in over the back of his neck as he studied the egg: nature had never polished a stone as smooth as that one. Its flawless surface was dark blue, except for thin veins of white that spiderwebbed across it. As Arya carefully let his fingers run over it, David found that it was cool and frictionless under his fingers, like hardened silk. Oval and about a foot long, it was... mesmerizing.
As David looked over the stone, and like he had tried countless times before attempted to cast his mind out of his own body in order to perceive something beyond him, only to be met by yet another failure, another consciousness was growing closer and closer to realize that what she had been perceiving wasn't a lie.
The magic that she could feel permeating the ambient around her egg was distant from what she had grown accustomed to, unconsciously, a part of her being recognized as beautiful the careful balance of elements that danced just beyond her perception.
Even as unconscious and unaware as any unhatched dragon egg was, something inside of her stirred just so slightly in answer to the new hand touching the surface of her egg. Following an istinct that hadn't lied to her in the past century, obeying to that pulsion that she knew was a fundamental part of her, she was... confused, for the being she perceived just beyond her shelter was unlike any before.
The being brimmed with life, but not like the others that the unconscious part of her had long since grown accustomed to, no, it was... new.
There was much that resonated with what she did not know her subconscious and instinct had been looking for: curiosity, that echoed her own as her unconscious tried to map out this strange being, a form of purity too, of dedication towards satisfying that thirst that curiosity made the being ache for, an echo sounded between this new and curious being and other things in the surrounding ambient, and if hìshe had been awake, she would have marvelled at seeing how his hand had shaped what she had never felt before.
The unconscious dragon in her egg, in her dreams of vast nothingness that came before the wake, had first stirred when her carrier had entered a place so think with magic that it would have made her scales itch, had she known what scales or itches were, then, she had perceived her carrier calm down around this presence just outside her perception, signalling that it was either part of the trap, or that the trap wasn't one at all... there was no way to feign that kind of magic, her gut feeling confirmed it to her unconscious mind, and yet...
As David's hands trailed over the egg, actually hoping that some of its inherent magic would be enough to at least unlock the mental capabilities that everyone needed to be able to matter in the universe he was in, his eye never closed, and almost without his consent: "... beautiful..." escaped as a whisper from his mouth.
And as his word washed over the egg, the sound reverberating just loud enough for the dragon inside to hear, the soon to hatch magic creature knew, that something new was exactly what she needed, her instinct, that never before had failed her, shook awake her mind, and a single, stark crack echoed across the room inside of David's trunk as the egg that had refused to hatch for decades suddenly choose that it was time.
From inside the egg, a squeak declared that everything had just changed.
AN Part 0
How did it go with the mental curb stomp in David's head? For now, he is unable to do magic and to cast his mind around like the others do, but that doesn't mean that he stopped from practising Occlumency a single day in the two centuries and more that he spent in the potterverse.
In The Bigger Picture, I set up Occlumency to be a sort of zen awareness of one's own thoughts, coupled with parallel thinking: half of his focus keeps the consciousness a step back from the actual thoughts of the person, and in that step, there is a constant flow of basically endless inspiration, snippets, dreams, and half-remembered shit that acts as a frame for the actual thoughts behind it.
It's not subconscious, because that by definition cannot be expressed through images, not really, but it's a close second.
I have written the flow of what the elves see as extremely disorientating, that was kind of the result I was going for.
The question is, did it work?
AN Part 1
I felt like I did some progress in my last chapter regarding the presentation of scenes in third person, and thank you all for the reviews that commented on that aspect.
Now, throughout all of my stories, usually, interactions are always between 2 characters. Or at least between two 'sides'. In 'The Path of Knowledge', even when my MC Ron talks to both Harry and Hermione, it's him talking vs them reacting. In Revolution, it's Shikamaru vs all the others of the council.
The banter and inane chit-chat works better for me, because I can make people cut each other off without blocking the flow of a single character and having to make him pick it up later on.
In this chapter, I originally planned of having a "round-table" meeting with the elves and David and exercise out a speech rolling around. I didn't want it to become fixed with MC vs Others. That said, I quickly realized that it didn't make sense. The elves would obviously stick together, while Raven plays comic relief and Fleur distract the eyes.
So once more a discussion one vs one. This time I'm trying to have both of the two 'act', instead of having Arya react to the MC. Obviously, given the kind of intelligence and foreknowledge David is armed with, in the end he manages to get out more from the conversation than Arya. But only because information regarding Alagaësia is immediately useful to him, since he needed to confirm how much of what he knew was true, while, however interesting, what Arya learns is ultimately meaningless.
All elves are fascinated by the world around them, is in their culture, even if Arya is married to her duty, she has been raised as a fucking princess, so she knows that knowledge is power, and if David comes from another continent, she plans to have him as an ambassador to ammass more resources for killing Glabatorix.
Still, I find this chapter a bit... still, for better or worse. I can't help but see the events while I write them, and everything happens without disconcerting events breaking up the flow of the events here. To spice it up, I could have had Durza trace the horses, but I think that he managed to land an ambush in canon only because of the Twins' treachery. And really, if the elves hadn't been able to cover their tracks, they would have gotten caught in the several years spent gallivanting around.
The only thing I could have done to make this chapter a bit more 'exciting' would have been breaking it in the middle and describing David as a fox sneaking around Urgals with the other three foxes acting as a distraction, maybe having one of them killed and eaten to add a touch of drama. And I'm short on time as it is, so adding pieces that are meaningless to the story doesn't really work for me: sadly, my stories tend to be essential, in the sense that if I can get away without talking about it, I'm gonna try.
It's not the best exercise to ignore the section of the story dedicated to 'build up' but I'll use those only when I feel that the story needs an injection of adrenaline, or to introduce elements that will justify a plot twist later on.
As to in which part of the empire this is happening: the MC has no idea, but I imagine that since the only places where the King has no power are the forest up north, and the Beors, I'm shooting in the dark and imagining that the elves run a circle around the map, occasionally using their super minds to use a fort or a village to get what they need, and make the kids there try out the egg.
It would tie nicely with Saphira's lack of hatching: if she somehow perceives that the child is being forced to touch the egg, she would believe it a lot of the King.
AN Part 2
As to how the Potterverse Runic magic manages to work still in alagaesia, let's keep in mind that in Eragon people can store their 'life force' into gemstones, which Paolini plays off not the RI as I had originally imagined, but with the Mohs scale of hardness, so in order the stones that one should choose are
Diamond 10
Corundum (Ruby-Sapphire) 9
Topaz 8
Emerald from 7.5 to 8
Quartz 7
Orthoclase 6
Anyway, Life Energy gets stored better in materials with a high value on the Mohs scale and an important Refraction Index, both characteristics make gemstones 'unique'.
Then why does the Iron Trunk work without gemstones? Because David has never used 'Life Energy' which is the nightmare for every scientist (which he is) who tries to build something that makes sense out of magic. He was an Alchemist, thusly he played around with Heat and Kinetick energy like it was nobody's business because in the Potterverse (at least in The Bigger Picture) magic worked out of symbols, out of souls, and out of intent. The Iron Trunk turned out to be a constant cycle of energy in transformation based on its core of fictional mass that nonetheless got enough Gravity to bend space.
To do anything remotely similar in the Inheritance verse is impossible because magic there works strictly off Life Energy.
At least for everyone but Dragons and whatever the fuck was that Guntera's manifestation at Orik's coronation.
Let's be real, spirits casually created a living plant made out of precious metals and gemstones, so, there is some bullshittery afoot.
AN Part 3
And I know that it's somewhat obvious making him the next Rider, but it is in line with the mechanics of canon and gives me a stable situation upon which I can bruteforce David into feeling that everyone around him is real, finally finding a foolproof reason to make an SI skeptical of his circumstances actually involved with the plot.
Returning to the development of the story, I had considered having him gallivant around with Angela, which is a great character in my opinion. The problem is, that at this point in time, the MC couldn't do magic AT ALL. Animagus and speaking to snakes and foxes come naturally to him, but he lacks that 'door' that Eragon smashes through during the first book when he throws Brisingr to the urgals. For now, he can't even read minds, because it requires the ability of being able to cast his mind outside.
Basically, he's an extraordinary healthy human with a mind that could shame anyone in the world once he can organize himself around magic.
He lost his Philosopher stone in the epilogue of The Bigger Picture, and he can't make another. Despite his lack of magic right now, in alagaesia all magic works off Life Energy, and he can't directly manipulate heat and kinetic energy anymore. Angela manages that because she's likey prepared her own body throughout the years with elixirs and whatnot. To move around at those speeds one would need a lot of protection and strengthening for the body, the G force present in those movements would squish the brain inside the skull otherwise.
Despite the obvious nerfing reasons, imagine that David's magic just underwent a change of Operative System, his way of doing things is no longer compatible with the world he's on.
In the potterverse, he could write the code in C (playing directly with concepts and True Souls), in the Inheritance cycle, he has an old iPad, and allhe can do is download new applications as he discovers New Names, moving them around on the screen and figuring out the various levels of each application through understanding. Basically, in the first setting he could reprogram a tree to make him coffee and become a rocket aimed t the moon, in the Inheritance cycle, he can change the desktop image and if he's clever place a password protecting it.
So I need something to give him magic, and having a dragon egg to hatch for him sounds a good method, albeit an obvious one, that works off for all the reasons that I explained in the AN of the previous chapter.
Deepthoughts42, I have no idea how you managed to spy through my drafts for this story, considering that they're on paper and I'm reasonably sure there is an ocean between us, but I had, in fact, considered the Shade angle. The problem there is, once more, that the MC as a Shade would not be invested in the future of the land, and that to be realistic, I'd need to write him as a Joker from DC. And he would still be OP from the very beginning, fearing only Galbatorix.
Seriously, if only a straight strike through the heart could kill the MC, he would abuse the shit out of it.
With the experience the MC has with dealing with souls, I can see him flushing together the invading spirits in an amalgam that has him at the top, and it would make for an original start, but a less interesting story overall.
ps
did the conversation between David and Arya work? I tried to keep in mind that she's both smart and used to politics, while David, despite his dislike for posturing and all the nuances of the more polite forms of conversation, he's still a scary-smart Ravenclaw, and quite witty when he puts his mind to it.
Again, as far as the conversation goes, I had the MC bleed off nervous-energy by moving around (making tea, moving Fleur, cooking), while the elves remained more impassible throughout it, used as they are to keep their cards close to their chest.
In Brisingr there is a well-written dialogue Eragon-Arya that goes into the characterization without giving a sense of stillness. Paolini managed that by having them reminisce and by interrupting through the random-ass appearance of spirits (completely useless plot-wise), and telling out Eragon's emotive reactions.
I'm trying to go for a conversation in which the emotions easy enough to read for the reader, but not obvious for the characters, so I point out the 'tightening of shoulders', the 'stiffening' and whatnot.
The reason behind the quiet-drinking-time after dinner is to bleed out the insecurities and stiffness that was still around
pps
Does David suspect the existence of something manipulating the events? Well, casually meeting Arya was a dead giveaway, and the best part, as the author of a fic in this particular verse, is that I can play it exactly as Paolini did and declare that plot railroading is because of the Eldunarì.
Did they somewhat help Tenga along his bat-shit crazy cross-multiverse fishing? I'd say so, if they had been willing to alter Arya's spell in order to make the egg land in front of Eragon, I'd say that they were growing pretty desperate.
ppps
does anyone knows what are the 7 words of power that Broms whispers to Eragon when he dies? or when and if they ever become relevant? Because to me it appears like Paolini set up a plot but never went back to correct the root that he had placed there.
pppps
names for Saphira, anyone? I'd like to change it...