Disclaimer: I do not own any familiar characters featured in this story. They all belong to the creative Christopher Paolini.

In the Depths of Misery
By: Silver pup
Part Two

"Murtagh?"

"Yes?"

"Can you put me down now, please?"

"No."

"Damnit!"

Murtagh had to hold back from laughing out loud at Eragon's remark. The boy had been complaining since Murtagh had scooped him up and tossed him over his shoulder, which resulted in a fierce argument over male masculinity. ("Murtagh, put me down now! I'm no woman so don't carry me like one!" "Shut up before I drop you back in the mud where I found you, little sister!" "What did you just call me?!")

Then it progressed into an argument over which brother was more feminine looking. ("Hey, you're the one with longer hair and the red colored dragon!" "So what! You're more slender and squeamish, and your dragon is a female!")

And finally, after realizing that Murtagh had no intention of putting him down, Eragon had decided to pout. Not that he would ever admit to doing something so childish, because Shadeslayers did not pout, thank you very much. They took things in stride and plotted a way to get what they want, which is exactly what Eragon had done. And now, after much mental debate, he decided to go with a plan that never failed him before - whining.

"Murtagh, please put me down! I swear I can walk just fine! Seriously, my wounds aren't as bad as they look."

"Sure, and that twisted ankle is actually just a bruise, right? And that arm of yours that won't stop bleeding, is not at all deep but is in fact very shallow, correct?"

"…… I hate you."

This time Murtagh didn't hold back his laugh. "I hate you to, baby brother."

Eragon groaned and closed his eyes in agitation. There was no way possible he could win an argument against Murtagh. The other Rider had shot down any excuse he had brought up, and Eragon had run out of ideas.

Why is he doing this anyway? I mean I know he wants to leave the forest but he didn't have to help me walk, let alone carry me, Eragon pondered in bewilderment. Murtagh's actions puzzled him, and he didn't know what to make of it all.

"Murtagh?" Eragon finally asked quietly.

"Yes?"

"Why are you carrying me? I mean, you could have just helped me walk or something, and not have to strain yourself carrying me…" Eragon trailed off at the end.

"Carrying you is faster than helping you wobble around," Murtagh answered calmly.

"Oh…" Eragon said blinking, and clenching his jaw tightly. For a moment he had thought that he had seen the old Murtagh, the one he once saw as a friend, comrade, and later, a brother. For a moment he imagined that maybe Murtagh really did care about him as a person, instead of just a tool. But he was wrong and simply being delusional, and the truth was Murtagh really didn't care about him.

Now why does that make me feel depressed? Eragon wondered as he felt his heart constrict. After his last battle with Murtagh, Eragon had decided to label his brother as the enemy and forget about him, rather than actually acknowledge him, and everything that came with it, because it was simply easier for him. He had enough to deal with at that time, and thinking about Murtagh brought a wave of conflicting emotions that he wasn't ready to face. True, it was foolish and immature of him to dismiss his brother rather than think things over, but at the time it seemed like a good idea.

"Hey, Eragon I see a cave not to far from here. Do you mind stopping there?" Murtagh asked, knocking him out of his thoughts.

Eragon blinked. "Why?"

"Because I'm sick of this rain, tired and we should look over your injuries to make sure they don't get infected," answered Murtagh.

"Yeah, okay. We can stop but I'm telling you my wounds are fine!"

"Right, and father was actually a nice guy, huh?"

"Oh shut up!"

The cave was cold, wet and had a moldy smell to it. It also wasn't very big or deep but it was enough for the two brothers. Murtagh felt relief that he was out of the rain and practically dropped Eragon onto the hard ground. The younger boy let out a yelp and glared at his older sibling as he rubbed his sore behind, but Murtagh just snorted and ignored him. Rather, the older man dropped to the ground and slowly stretched out his legs.

"Ah, this feels good. My back was beginning to get sore from carrying you," the Red Rider commented as he closed his eyes.

"Don't blame me for your backache, Murtagh," Eragon snarled as he pushed himself up against the stone wall. "I told you to put me down and let me walk, but you kept refusing."

"And let you damage your leg even worse? I don't think so, Eragon," Murtagh said, opening one eye.

"Why do you care what happens to me? I'm the enemy, remember?" Eragon shot back.

Murtagh sighed. "Will you quit bringing that up and just be thankful that I helped you? Geeze, I don't even get a thank you after carrying you for almost a mile in this stupid rain."

Eragon scowled. "Oh save the act, Murtagh! We both know the only reason you're helping me is because you need to get out of this forest, and I'm the only one who can help you."

"So? You're doing the same thing with me. You need me to help you get out of the forest, but unlike you I'm not making it into a bad thing," answered Murtagh as he sat up, and opened both his eyes.

"Now let me look at your arm, and no- shut up, Eragon because your wounds are as bad as they look," he snapped as he stood up and walked over to the other Rider.

The younger boy grumbled but complied and let Murtagh take his arm and heal it with the magic he had left. But Murtagh had little energy left, and the wound only healed half way so he was forced to wrap it up in the cleanest cloth he could get. Then he turned his attention to the boy's ankle, which had swelled up even more since Murtagh had found him.

"Damn what did you do to it?" Murtagh couldn't help but ask as he ripped off another strand of cloth.

"I tripped, of course. Over a tree root to be more specific."

"Mmm. That's kind of pathetic you know. A great and mighty Rider twists his ankle thanks to his own stupidity of not watching where he was going."

"That's not fair since technically it wasn't my fault," Eragon snapped as Murtagh finished wrapping up his foot. "I was to busy fighting off soldiers to pay attention to where I was stepping."

"Well maybe next time you'll actually look where you're going then, hmm? Try not to make the same mistake twice?" Murtagh asked as he sat back against the wall across from Eragon.

Eragon rolled his eyes. "You know people do make mistakes since it's human nature to. So you can't lecture me because I'm human and did what most humans do."

"True, but I'm not lecturing you because you made a mistake. I'm telling you to learn from it," Murtagh answered.

"And if I don't?" Eragon asked, his eyes suddenly serious. "People make mistakes, but not everyone learns from them. Sometimes the best people make horrible mistakes, and they don't even realize what they've done until it's to late."

Murtagh narrowed his own hazel eyes. "But how do you know if what they did was a mistake? Truth is often a matter of point of view, and everyone is different. What may seem wrong to one person may be seen as right to another."

"Oh? And what if to this person who sees what they're doing is right is actually simply causing pain to innocent people? What then, hmm?" Eragon shot back.

Murtagh sighed wearily. "Eragon, this is not about mistakes anymore is it?"

Eragon shook his head. "No, it's not."

"Then what is it about?" Murtagh asked quietly.

"You. And what side you're really on. Murtagh… do you really believe in Galbatorix's vision? At our last battle you said you did. And I know that he's controlling you now so you have to do as he says, but do you honestly believe personally that what he says is right?" Eragon asked, looking his sibling in the eye.

Murtagh gazed back levelly. "I don't know, Eragon. I don't know what to believe in anymore actually. In my head there is a constant battle between what is wrong and what is right. Everything… everything is very different now, and I don't know what's going to happen."

Eragon nodded his head slowly. "And if the time comes and we had to battle against each other again, would… would you kill me?"

Murtagh cocked his head to the side and studied his brother. His hair stuck to his pale face as water dripped down his nose and cheeks. Traces of mud, blood and who knows what else were smudged all over his face, body and clothes. But what caught his attention were Eragon's eyes. The younger boy stared back at him with fiery, dark eyes that had shadows lurking there, but Murtagh could still see the naïve light in him that Eragon always had, and never really lost. Murtagh knew the answer then.

"No, Eragon. I would never hurt you intentionally, and if it came down to a choice between your life and mine, then… Then I think would choose for you to live and I to die because…" Murtagh trailed off and found he couldn't finish the sentence.

Because you're my little brother, and I think that maybe I love you like one, and the idea of killing you kills me…

"Because I'm your brother."

Murtagh blinked in surprise at Eragon's remark and looked up. Eragon stared back at him with blank eyes. "Because I'm your brother means you won't kill me, right?"

Murtagh nodded.

"I see," Eragon said softly, looking outside. "But why? Why would me being your brother make me important to-"

Murtagh cut him off. "Stop it, Eragon. Let's just leave it at that, okay? I don't want to talk about it anymore. Just… leave it alone."

I can't answer your question Eragon. You and I, we have the same question: why are you important to me? What makes you so special that I would willingly die to protect you? Why?

Eragon nodded his head reluctantly. "Alright…" he mumbled before looking down at his hands. Neither said anything for a few minutes, lost in their thoughts and realizations. Finally Eragon broke the silence with a whisper.

"… Hey, Murtagh?"

"What?"

"… Thank you."

"… You're welcome."