I do not own the Inheritance Cycle.
Edited 1/30/22 - all chapters are getting a overhaul. Things might not match until this process is complete
Enjoy,
Planning and Saddle-Making
The next morning met them much sooner, and colder, than what any of them felt it ought to have the right to. Rose, who would not be awake if it were not for the rigorous scheduling over the last weeks, stood, rubbing her hands together as she waited for the wood to catch fire. She looked across the encampment, where both of the dragons lay with watching eyes, and saw two boots sticking out from beneath Saphira's wing. It was there that Eragon had huddled the night before and still he had yet to rise and meet the day. Frowning, she turned away.
Currently she didn't care if Eragon was in an urgency or not, she felt the cold in her bones and her belly ached with hunger. In her desperation, she had pulled out cubes of stringy meat, left over from the night before, and added them into the pot of warming water. Then she scavenged through the food bag and looked at the meager supply of vegetables with a ping of uncertainty. More could be gotten at a later time, she reasoned and then unceremoniously dumped the greens into the pot.
It would be some time before the stew would be done and knowing this, Rose walked around the camp. Gently probed Thorn to tell him where she was going, she slung her bag over her shoulder and buckled her sword to her waist. He, was laying in-between two rather large fir trees, and said nothing in return but sent her his emotions instead.
There were still times, even though they could commutate in words, when any form of language didn't seem accurate enough to the dragon. At times he preferred the emotions and images. These moments hadn't increased any in the passing months, nor have they decreased, but still it was rare thing, and knowing this Rose frowned and looked accusing at the dragon. He is such a lazy thing today, she thought as she rounded about a tree.
Shaking her head, she stepped over a couple lump of several roots that protruded from the ground and walked deeper into the woodland, following a small trail as she did so. She wasn't necessarily worried about getting lost, it was not a long way to her destination and even from where she stood she could hear the gentle sigh of water.
Rose hurried forward, eager to wash off the grime from the days before, and was not paying the land she walked on any mind and so when she stumbled, it startled her. She clumsily righted herself on a tree's massive trunk, her bag bounced against her head as she fell and now she straightened it. She looked reproachfully behind her, looking to see what she fallen over on. She found that her foot had caught on a stone, one from a line that crossed the tiny deer track and weaved straight into the underbrush beyond, there it disappeared from sight. She leaned down and traced her fingers over the roughly whittled stones, picking at the dry moss encasing it, before rising and studying them. It was probably a marker of some sort, she thought to herself, a way to tell one's land from another's. Curious she pulled some the scrubs away and found that the tiny, crooked wall of stones continued on both ways away of the track but she had no desire to follow it, and turned away.
It was not far until she reached the creek thickly tented by skeletal trees, and once there she unloaded her pack and sorted through it, pulling out only what she needed, and then unbuckled her sword and letting it drop to the ground. Without further delay, she rushed the waterside, her skin itching, and found a safe place to bathe herself. She quickly undressed, and sat herself on the edge of the sloop, her feet resting in the cool water. The water stung her toes and feet, sending a thrill through her.
With a rag, this she pulled out from her bag, she began to scrub the dirt off her skin. Her mind focused solely on what she doing. After she had washed her skin, she dipped her hair into the water. Her feet prickled in the warmer air after resting in the water for so long. Then she dressed and wrapped her dripping hair in a spare shirt. It felt refreshing to have clean skin, and hair, despite the cold of the water. She felt fully alert and more than ready to eat the stew.
As she walked back, she allowed her thoughts to wonder in places she hadn't before now.
She had been fully aware what she was doing when she left with Eragon, despite how foolish it was. She knew of the dangers she was facing, and her lack of knowledge to face them but she couldn't bring herself to turn away. If anything happened to her or Thorn during this trip it was her fault, and hers alone. Eragon could hardly be blame for the dirt beneath his shoe with the state he had been in.
Rose frowned. She didn't know when or how she had begun to care for her brother, only that she had. He had been abandoned just as she had been, faced his lot of bad luck and was facing them still. He was as much of a victim to fate as she was, though he seemed to have gotten the better cut of childhood than she had- she preferred her own past to whatever it was that he was going through now. The past was gone and done, but this moment in time was not.
She was fairly certain that he was merely going through a bout of illness and would waken from it soon enough. Yet another part her wondered if Eragon was right about this woman; what if she was real? If she were and Eragon was right, that could mean something entirely different, and if this was the case than how were they going to rescue her?
Rose frowned in confusion, then shook her head. She was spending far too much time around Eragon, if she was beginning to think such ridiculous thoughts.
Stopping at the small stone wall, she pondered on following it to see where it led but shook her head, there wasn't time for that and the food was surely done by now. It would do no good let any of it burn. She stepped over the miniature wall and kept walking.
Rose let her mind drift further, to a place she had been avoiding in the last weeks. She was more than willing to bet that the King knew of her and Thorn; Thorn had all but announced their presence to the whole of Alagaësia when he rescued her and Cai away from those massacring soldiers. She did not regret him doing so, she didn't know where she would be now without him.
That was the last time she had taken a chance without much thought into her reasoning and it had ended rather badly. She dearly hoped the past would not repeat itself now, she could not bear the thought that what she was doing now might led to another death. It was that event, her leaving for Teirm that alimentally led to Tornac's death. She was certain that if she had stayed at Haven Cove he would still be alive.
Her eyes begun to string and angrily wiped at her cheeks until the feeling ceased. When it did, she turned her thoughts to Dunion and his family. She fiercely hoped that they had gotten away from the Empire soldiers and if not that they were dead. Rose had seen what the King permits as punishment for criminals and traitors, and without a doubt she did not wish that on anyone. She sometimes wondered what had happened to them; where they were now and what they were doing.
Biting her lip, she thought that, hopefully, one day Cai would be able to meet up with his family once more. The kid would probably hate her for ages for leaving him alone with people he did not know, but why should she mind? She did what had to be done. Hopefully, though, when or if Cai was returned to his family it would a happy affair with no lies or ploys. That kid didn't need feel as if he didn't know himself anymore.
Rounding a corner she saw, with a slight surprise, that the trail ended and the wood thinned around a small valley. She could see the back of Eragon's head poking out from behind Saphira's bulk, and Thorn as lifted his head in greeting. He didn't mindtouch her, and she was more than thankful for it. Had Thorn tried to talk to her, he would know what she had been thinking about. She felt slightly unwell, and thinking about those events made her stomach churn with uneasiness.
Wondering why she had decided to think of the event in the west, she made her way forward and greeted them as she rounded around Saphira. Then seeing what Eragon had laying in front of him, she raised an eyebrow. "Why have you decided to massacre it?" she asked in puzzlement, it certainly looked as if he had.
Eragon looked up from the leather cut mess that lay out before him, and shook his head. They had gotten that leather the evening before when they went into town, and it most certainly did not look like it now. "I'm not," he said. "I'm making a saddle for Thorn. Saphira gets tired too quickly when we both flying on her, and you don't have one for Thorn. It will make things easier for all of us."
"Oh," she said, looking at him surprise. Brom must have taught Eragon how to make one; Saphira likely wouldn't have one if it weren't for him. Rose felt like kicking herself, had she have thought about that Thorn might have been on her case a little less. She dared a glance in the dragon's direction, he looked far too smug than he ought to have the right to be. "I thank you. How can I assist you?"
Eragon frowned as he thought over what she could do, he was slightly at a loss. He remembered, for the most part, how to make a saddle and he had Saphira to correct him when he got it wrong, but the leather was different than the one he had learned and he had very little skill with leatherworking itself. "You can punch holes along here," he said after a moment, and then showed her what needed to be done. "Then it will need to be stitched together."
Rose nodded in understanding, but strayed away to the pot the stew. She served herself a bowl and returned, setting her bag down beside her. Taking out a small hunting knife she set to work, taking small sips out of the stew every so often. Though it was not long until she forgot about the soup altogether and lost herself in her work. Needle working was something she was used to, often lost herself in, and being able to puncture the leather subdued some of her reserved anger.
"Where did you grow up?" Eragon asked after some time.
Rose looked up and found that he was watching her. She frowned and turned away, slightly annoyed at being interrupted. "I'd rather that you didn't know."
There was a long pause during which she returned to her work, and heard much to her relief, Eragon do the same.
"I'm your brother," Eragon stated. His voice was hard. "I have the right to know. I should not have to ask where you were raised or what your life was like a year ago. I should already know these things."
Rose scowled and set the knife aside with a ping of regret, then picked up the thin straps and began to weave them through the holes. "We were not raised together," she said cuttingly. "Considering this it'd be rather strange if you did know these things."
"We should have been."
Rose felt a sinking feeling, as if all the blood had drained out of her body, leaving her slightly light-headed. She shook her head trying to clear it. It was odd how they could be brother and sister, and yet complete strangers. A part of her burned to know the boy in front of her, surely it could do them no harm to know one another. "My given name is Muirgheal," she said quietly after a moment. "You should know that if nothing else."
"I thought your name was 'Rose,'" said Eragon, confusion drawn clearly in his voice.
Her frown deepened and despite herself she looked up at him. Eragon wasn't looking at her, but at his work though what exactly he was doing was beyond her. "'Rose' is my usename," she said. "I prefer not to be called by my given name. I don't know why I made the choice, I was young and whatever reasoning I had is now long forgotten."
Thorn huffed from somewhere behind her, and she turned to look at him. He shifted his wings and blinked uninterestedly at her. He then stood, in slow and rather lazy movements, before mindtouching her just enough where it felt as if he were but a tickle in her thoughts. I'm going to fly for a while. Call for me when you're done, he said, his tone not matching his words.
She could sense that he was leaving for a different reason than he was portraying. Waiting until, Thorn took the skies, she turned back to her work. Take care, Thorn.
Thorn simply snorted through their mindtouch, and then fell silent.
"Where were you raised, then?" he asked again.
Rose debated about telling him for a moment, and then having decided that it wouldn't harm either of them, she said in a rather sarcastic tone, "Within the high and mighty Courts of Urû'baen."
There was a quick intake of breath. "You were brought up within Galbatorix's courts?"
"It's not like I choose where I would be fostered." Rose huffed but did not look up, continuing on with the work before her. "It's not as if I was ever given the choice. Just as you were left in Carvahall by our mother, I was abandoned to the King's Courts by our father. I know you hate the King, Eragon, but I'm not an outcome of his influence. I met him only once, and I'd rather not repeat that particular event."
A silence formed over them, overruled only by their breaths. Rose turned back to her work and leaned away from him, suddenly wishing she hadn't told him a thing. Her work quickly overtook her mind, though the conversation replayed itself over and again.
Once again it was Eragon who broke the silence between them. "What happened with the King?"
Rose considered telling him and after shaking her head, she changed the subject. If they were going to speak of something, it might as well be something of use. "That's hardly important," she said. "What's your plan, Eragon? You had said yesterday that you knew where to go but where is this place?"
He stilled at the questions, and Rose felt her breath come out in a rush. Of course he didn't know; how could he? He was chasing a haunt and she was tagging along for the ride.
"I'm not certain," he admitted. "I know which way we ought to go, but anything beyond that I'm not sure."
Rose felt like cursing, not at him but herself. She had hoped he had some sort of idea, so that they could get back sooner rather than later. She didn't like the risk of being so close to the Empire's bases. Looking around hopelessly, she bit her lip as she thought. "By the spirits!" she said in frustration. "We need a map! Something, anything, to look at and to chart where we are at and where we need to go. That strange calling of yours may work for a time, Eragon, but we need to logical about this or we'll only get ourselves into trouble." She huffed, tossing down the leather piece she was working on. Best get this over with, she thought to herself. The sooner they did, the sooner they could put distance between them and the Empire. "Cellwair and Gil'ead are your best chances, but as I've warned you it's a death sentence to merely try to break someone out of there, and should we be caught, well, I don't fancy returning to Urû'baen. If this woman is real, we'll have to be careful about how and when we do this."
"Be careful about doing what?" Eragon frowned, his eyebrows nearly covering his eyes. He knew, she knew he did, he was just not willing to admit what he was thinking.
"Saving your dream woman," she said, glancing down at the leather. It had dirt smudged on it, and slowly she picked it up and dusted it off. "You wish to play hero, so you shall. Anyhow, you might as well, we're here now, and I, for one, am not looking forward to hearing what Selena or Brom have to say to us upon our return."
Eragon started, as if this was the first time he thought about what they might say, and shivered slightly. "Neither am I," he agreed.
After a short silence, they began to talk, this time it seemed that both Saphira and Thorn something to say, about their plans and where they should go, and what they might need- Eragon agreed to find a map, after much badging on Rose's part. It took most of the remainder of the day, but once the saddle was finished, so was their planning.
