I do not own the Inheritance Cycle.
Edited 1/30/22

Please let me know your thoughts throughout the story, I'd love to hear for you :)

Enjoy,


Riders and Kings

The next day Rose awoke feeling, if anything, even more tired than she had upon going to sleep. That morning was still misty with shadow, the sun having a long while to reach the apex of the open mountaintop, and cast light into the peripheries of the marble city. And so the shades of night bore down heavily on Tronjheim, broken only by small, tiny orbs of ruby and gold and white lights floating almost seemingly midair, like tiny fairylights dancing in the gloom. Every now and then a hazy shimmer of light would leap down from the eastern horizon, throwing an evanescent glare over the city before fading and casting the buildings once again into obscurity.

Laying in that darkness, Rose quickly decided that she did not wish to get up at all; the day was still in her estimation far too early for anyone to have risen and have said farewell to the night. For quite a long time she lay, huddled deeply in the blankets of her hovel-bed, watching tiny gleams of flickering red light sway across the top of the hovel until she realized at last just what was causing that light.

She turned over, blinking, and nudged the dragon laying at the entrance of the den with her foot. Her foot slipped, glazing the razor-sharp tips of his scales at such an angle that they sliced into her skin, and with a hiss of pain she drew her leg back to examine the cuts. They were small curved punctures- artificial-, and before long they stopped bleeding though the throbbing pain deep within them did not. After taking her hand away from the side of her foot, she reached out her mind to the slumbering dragons, prodding at his consciousness harder until he did awaken.

Yes? the dragon said with a grumble after some time. He did not move an inch, hardly breathing at all, and his mind was still very heavy with sleep.

I need you to move, Thorn, said Rose, drawing herself closer to the edge of the opening. Else I shall be trapped here all day without hope of escaping.

Thorn let out a humming noise and huddled closer against the hole in the wall where she was seated, further entrapping her. You did not wish to meet this day's activities before, he said, or has this changed in the night?

Not even a small amount, said she with a yawn, though I must admit that I would rather not remain trapped in a hovel by a great lump. Please do move, I need to use the privy.

Thorn bristled, suddenly awake, and shifted away from the wall enough for her to shuffle alongside it and away from him. As she moved past him towards the back of the cavern he swatted his tail at her, nearly hitting her in the face, and rolled in on himself sighing deeply. For a short time he was silent. Am I going to be able to a have a pleasant conversation with you before sundown, or are you going to remain acting as you currently are for the remainder of the day? he asked when she reappeared from around the sharp bend.

Rose shook her head, her mouth suddenly dry. It may be in your best interest to ask that question after I have fully awoken and broke my fast, she told him. Until then expect no changes. She sat down on the cavern floor and shifted through her bags in search of her hairbrush, before she looked up at him. Was there not a cushion here last night?

I moved it. I had thought that we both feel more assured this way, said Thorn after he opened one of his red eyes to stare openly at her. I moved your possessions over there too, so that I would not lay on them.

"Oh!" Rose looked quickly up at him, noting the distance between where she sat and he now lay. As she studied Thorn, she began to understand his reason for entrapping her, and she turned away, drawing out her brush and setting it front of her discarded boots as she did so. The boots had held up through the trek over the countless countrysides and roads and routes but they were looking worse for ware; she thought that they wouldn't last another trek. She wondered if she could get some new boots in Tronjheim, and then realized that she had only a few coins with which to buy things and those were from the Empire –likely the Varden and dwarves used a different sort of currency- and she blatantly refused impose that problem on Selena. They would have to do for now, punctures and all, she decided and then began the long business of untangling her hair. Perhaps she would wear it in a braid, as she had done while traveling, it was more practical, but she could not remember the last time she left it loose and trembling freely down her back… All thought of leaving her hair free from braids or twists was cast quickly away; much of it was so entwined she could not brush through it. She finally managed, by patient application to rid herself of most of the knots, and then tied it back. Finally, she turned back to Thorn- he blinked, and flickered his tongue out at her- as she shoved her feet into the boots.

She stood up, straightening her long tunic, and turned her attention to Thorn. I am grateful that you moved my bags and I thank you for doing so. Though I shall be moving that cushion tonight so that I will be able to get out without having to trouble you.

The dragon thumped his tail against the ground, accepting her words, and then said, I've been told that Eragon is awake and ready to go down. Shall we join him?

Rose sighed and looked over herself once more. I suppose, she told him, straightening out any creases in the fabric with her fingers. Her hands stopped at her belt and, after fingering it for a short moment of debate she turned back and dug through her bags. She found her sword without any trouble and pulled it out, fastening it securely to her belt. And you, Thorn, do you suppose that you are ready?

The dragon swung his head around to look at her before wordlessly shuffling to his feet and making his way to the opening of the cave, Rose following close behind. They passed under the stone archway and, for the first time, Rose looked examined the apiary-like cave riddled walls ascending high above and around them. In some places she saw crumbling stairways, leading from one level of caves to the next, or merely making a path to two caves quite close together, or in some places to nowhere. The further up she looked the fewer caves she did see, yet they were much, much larger, their mouths almost completely hidden in gloom. There was no ceiling at all- for there was little need for one- and the peak of the mountain vanished into shadow high above their heads.

She wondered at the many caves; how many Riders and dragons had come here? Surely, not enough to fill the mass of caverns, she thought, and as she thought this, she turned and saw Eragon watching her. He was seated at the edge of a cavern, quite some way from the ground. Rose thought that if he stood on the flooring below and lifted his hands up as far as they could go that he would be able to reach the lip of the cave. When his eyes met hers, he dropped down from the stony edge effortlessly and made his way over, Saphira following after him.

"Good morning," he said pleasantly. "I thought that you would never wake up."

Rose frowned at him, and crossed her arms. "If need be; you could have simply awoke me yourself."

"I was preoccupied," he said grinning at her. "Besides I thought you might want to sleep without being woke up."

"Oh." She looked past him to Saphira, who was tapping her claws against the giant gem beneath their feet. Rose turned and climbed onto Thorn's back, waiting for Eragon to make his way to Saphira and do the same. When he did not, she turned to him and after a moment of studying his troubled face, she asked; "What is troubling you?"

"I have been thinking," he said, rubbing his arm.

Rose gave him a measured look, before saying; "That cannot lead to anything good."

Eragon gave her a sharp glance. "I've been thinking about your time in Urû'baen," he stated. "How much time did you send dealing with the political side of living there?"

Rose stiffened, her eyes narrowing on their own accord. "I avoided the Court as often as it was not deemed discourteous. It did not entrance me the same way it did many other people," she said flatly and then paused, running her fingers over her plait. "I am fairly certain you shall witness examples of what they were like yourself before this day ends."

"That's what worries me," he muttered, peering towards Saphira.

"How so?"

Eragon took a deep breath and slowly turned back to her, as if he were readying himself. He considered her, collecting his words and thinking over them. When her eyes met his and slowly narrowed, she began unwinding the plate and redoing it. "Some of the leaders might not think you significant of your status," he said hesitantly, Saphira breathing over him. "Brom told me that Riders are above kings and leaders, a different sort of law theirselves, but I think that some won't think that this includes you."

"You are speaking of my gender," Rose stated flatly, wondering just how long he had been thinking of this subject- it seemed as if he had brought it up more and once before with the dragon behind him. She watched as he nodded and, tying off her hair, she swung her leg over Thorn's side and rested her heels against the side his bulk. For a moment she considered her words. "Let them believe as they please, Eragon. I have lived my life under ruling men and I have seen and dealt with worse than their chauvinist opinions. Exasperating as they may be, their philosophies truly do not concern me, and it is a waste of my time and breath to try to prove them otherwise."

Eragon was silent for a short moment, his hands balling slowly into fists and his face heating a brilliant shade of red. "There's a difference now," he said heatedly. "You're a Rider! Your status above men and kings whether you're a woman or not!"

"I cannot afford to believe such," she said with a deep breath. "I will not go about lording over men and kings, doing so shall make me no better than the Riders of old."

"The Dragon Riders helped keep peace," he said. "You've heard the tales Brom has told just as I have. The Riders were there to help those who needed it. They were good."

"Perhaps this is true in the beginning, yet, I have heard the tales where they did not benefit these people as well, Eragon," she told him. "The people were ignored and the ideals of the elves and Riders were forced upon them. Many forgot their roots, and traditions and cultures were lost and forgotten. Some believe that the Riders did more harm to the cultures than they did good to the welfare of the people." Rose paused and considered him, ignoring Thorn's consist urging to speak to her. "There are two very different versions of who and what the Riders were. I believe both sides hold a form of truth. Not one thing is all good or bad, Eragon, there are layers. I refuse to believe that I am more than the people around me due to an old man telling me so."

For a long time Eragon was silent, Saphira snorting angrily behind him. Whatever conversation they were having was lost to her, for at that moment Rose was far too preoccupied ignoring Thorn's ongoing combat to talk to her. After a moment of continuous pressure, she opened her mind to the dragon and said, Calm yourself, Thorn. I know exactly what I am saying.

Beyond foolishly choosing how you say it. Must you always find a way to antagonize him?

You needn't worry yourself about it. He asked a question and got an answer, it is not my propose to try to bend my words to his liking. She patted the dragon's side lightly, listening to the hollow sound it made. He did not withdraw from her mind though he remained quiet- silently questioning her. She did not answer him, but instead looked blankly at the boy in front of her as she waited for him to respond, and watching the change in his expression.

Finally after a long time, Eragon looked up at her, his face pasty and set, and then he stiffened and turning away he climbed onto Saphira's back. "I talked to Angela today," he said as he settled himself. "She's the witch from Teirm, the one that told my fortune. She said something about you."

Rose stared at him, caught off guard by the sudden change of subject. Eragon had told her of the witch one evening though she had only partly listened after he told that he allowed her to tell his fortune. She believed the whole event to be rather ridiculous and wished to hear little more of it. "Oh, and what did she tell you?"

"She said that I should be careful around you."

"I see," said Rose, turning away as her hands balled into fists. There are quite a few people who would say that, she thought, making judgements on hearsay and crimes that did not belong to any living person. It was a tiring accusation.

"My fortune said that I'm going to be betrayed by someone related to me. So is she right?" asked Eragon. His tone was not harsh but easy and curious- it dearly made her want to smack him. "Do I need to careful around you?"

Rose sighed and straightened herself to be seated on Thorn properly. "You shall have to decide that yourself. Though I would not put too much thought into fortunetelling, Eragon, some have many meanings though most have none," she told him. "Thorn and I are going to meet with Brom. I believe that he is waiting for us and that we have talked long enough."

Eragon agreed, though he looked as if he had more to say, and the dragons snorted at each other before spreading their wings and diving towards the city below them. When they landed at the base of one of Tronjheim's gate, Rose peered around looking for Brom and Selena. The woman was nowhere in sight, though a number of children had poked their heads out the gateway in hopes to catch glance at the dragons or perhaps the Riders, and far more adults had paused in their activities. Rose looked away from them, eager to escape their slack-jawed stares, and instead studied the flawless polished walls of the city.

"About time you four came down," came Brom's voice. Rose turned and saw him standing beside Saphira and Eragon, who had slide from Saphira moments before- she slowly joined them on the ground. "I thought that you got lost up there." He paused and stepped back lightly, to include the dwarf. "This is Orik. He will be around to assist you when Ailis and I are not. Should you need something and cannot find us ask for him."

The dwarf, Orik, bowed his head to them each in turn. "Pleasure to meet you both," he said in a low voice and opened his mouth to say more.

But before pleasantries could be further exchanged, Brom interfered with a wave of his hand, "Before we all get too comfortable, we have a matter to attend to. The four of you are summoned to meet with Hrothgar, the dwarf king, at third bell. If we don't leave now we'll be late."

"Where will we be meeting Hrothgar?" asked Eragon as they walked into the endless maze of the city. He did not seem to notice how the people moved out of their way, or touch the tips of their fingers to their lips then their collarbone, or even how some leaned forward in hopes to hear clips of their conversation.

Silently, Rose cursed him for his questioning and walked closer to Thorn. Keeping her eyes on Brom and Eragon, fearing that she may be left behind because if she was, she was certain she would never find her way out. Ahead of her, she heard the dwarf say; "In the throne room beneath the city. It shall be a private audience as an act of otho- of 'faith.'" Immediately, she knew it more than a deed of reliance, it was an inspection- a way for this king to feel out just who he allowing into his city and whether it was in his best interest to allow an alliance.

Suddenly nervous, she found herself quite glad she had yet to have a meal- she was sure that she had it would not last to the throne room. Her mind wondered back to the previous meeting she had had with a king; she could still feel cold dreed that had risen within her at his pronouncement. More than anything she prayed that this meeting would bring nothing of the liking, nothing that would tie her here to this cold, sunless place beneath a mountain.

Already though it had less than a day, she ached for the warm of sunshine and the fresh breeze of morning.

Rose turned the thought away, her nose wrinkling at the smell of mildew in the stale air, and turned her attention to the conversation Orik was having with Eragon. "Normally I work at the Gates," said the dwarf, pressing down his wild beard.

Eragon peered down at him. "And you're not working there now?"

"Nay." Orik shook his head. "This is only a temporary arrangement. Brom had requested for assistance and I was the closest one in the room at the time. I'll be going back to the Gates before too long once you and… Rose, was it?" he asked peering behind him and then back at a nodding Eragon. "Yes, well, once you and Rose and the dragons settle in, and I'm not needed, I'll go back."

Brom halted and looked around the colonnaded hall through which they were walking. "You're going to have to lead the way, Orik," he said. "It has been quite some time since I last been here."

The dwarf smirked suddenly looking slightly more than complacent and took lead, Eragon falling in step beside him, asking an occasional question. As they walked Rose would pause briefly, to study the paintings on the walls- these were in much better shape than the ones within the city and showed more the culture of the dwarves and their myths. For a time she puzzled over the feeling that they seemed familiar, until she realized that she has seen a similar style on some of the tapestries within the capital. Somehow this thought did not surprise her.

"I don't suppose I have to tell you to be on your best behavior, do I?" said Brom, walking beside her.

Rose looked away from a painting. "I see no reason for you to," she said. "Though I wish I had known that we were meeting with the dwarven king, I would have taken the time to appear presentable."

The old man huffed and mumbled something under his breath before saying; "You're fine."

"I look like I've been in a competition to catch an oiled swine."

"If you just got done doing that," Eragon said looking back at her with a grin, "you would look much, much worse. Trust me, I've done it."

Rose scowled at him, and his grin grew wider. "That sounds unpleasant," she said as they reached the bottom of a leafed stairway.

Eragon shrugged and turned to study the tall doors of burnished cedar with bosses of rich gold wrought into runes at the edges and a pointed coronet in the center. Rose took a deep breath as Orik nodded to the seven guards and they each in turn pounded the shafts of their weapons rhythmically on the ground. The sound echoed loudly as she fought the urge to cover her ears, and two the guards opened the doors and admitted them. Brom waved them on, settling against the wall beside the twined stairway.

Rose swallowed and strengthened herself, casting covert glances about the throne room before stepping ahead. It was cave, she realized, that likely had been there long before than the dwarves decided to call this place home.

The dwarf king sat on a wide, low dais at the far end of end, on a throne of unadorned black stone- its back stretched high beyond the king giving off the impression of weightlessness. Behind the throne, reaching up the ceiling, was giant mural, far larger than any she had ever seen, of four deformed dwarves, with beards ceased in gold and silver that flowed like water past their toes, their arms were raised to the ceiling, flicks of blue paint skimmed their fingertips. The walls were lined with statues that ran floor to ceiling, carved with an exquisite delicacy, each were plagued with same black stone from which the throne was made. They depicted, Orik told Rose later, the many rulers that once had governed these halls.

Rose and Eragon, who had to hurry to catch up with her as he far more busy glancing about the cave, walked toward the throne on a path made of black onyx tiles. The dragons were not far behind, their claws clicking against the polished stone. As they neared the king, Rose dared to look away from the mural and to the figure before it. The dwarf sat very still on the throne, watching their progress.

He must have been half Rose's height, but his body was appressed and strong. He wore a close-fitting shirt of chainmail, which craftily shined in the light as if it were liquescent, gleaming brightly against his long silver beard which was beaded and tapered with rubies. A gold emblazoned helm rest atop his head, its edges were lined with gems of white and red. His powerful arms were bare, apart from bands of gold above his elbows, and a naked hammer lay across his lap, a token of war.

She quickly cast her eyes down.

When they reach the dais, Eragon genuflected inelegantly onto one knee and bowed his head, and Rose dared a sideways glance at him, before falling in a low curtsy. When her boots slides slightly on the tiles, threatening to unbalance her, she stood. It was better, she supposed, than ending up as a heap on the ground- she did not believe that she could do or say anything that would less of a hostage to fortune.

"Rise, Rider," said the dwarf king, his cavernous voice echoing throughout the hall, "you need not pay tribute to me." As the king paused, Eragon rose to his feet and straightening to his full height.

Though she did not look, Rose could feel the king's scrutinizing gaze on each of them in turn. From behind her, Thorn snorted into her hair. He had not moved since stopping to stand just behind her- the back her head touched his chest at the slightest of movement, and so Rose found herself being very, very still so not to let her hair catch between his scales.

He sounds pleased, said the dragon, even if he says that there is no need for the display.

He does, does he not? she said to Thorn. Though I believe that he means more than he says. I have been thinking that it has been a very long time since a Dragon Rider has come to these parts in any form of true homage. If what Eragon said is true- that the Riders believed themselves above crowns- than I see where this king might think he has found a cavalier, of sorts.

I'm not certain if that is unwise. It might surprise him to find out he is wrong.

Rose found that the mask she had schooled her features into slipped into a scowl. It is never wise to be thought of a fool, Thorn. Fools are dangerous, both to theirselves and a country, and this king knows this. We are not here purely for pleasantries. We both know that.

We shall find out. After these words Thorn withdrew from her mind, turning his attention to the dwarf atop the throne.

"Âz knurl demn lanok. 'Beware the rock changes'… and nowadays the rock changes very fast indeed," the king continued. "I could not meet you earlier, as Ajihad had, as I was preoccupied with my adversaries within the clans. Many of them demanded that I deny you sanctuary and that ought to expel you from Farthen Dûr. It has taken much effort on my part to convince them otherwise."

"Thank you," said Eragon. "I didn't anticipate how much trouble our arrival would cause."

The king hesitated and then nodded, pointing one his contorted hands to the passage behind them. "See there, Riders, were my predecessor sit upon their graven thrones. One and four there are, and I am the forty-second. When I pass from this world into the care of the gods, my hírna will be added to their ranks. The first statue is of likeness of my ancestor Korgan, who forged this mace, Volund," he said, pausing only briefly to rise the hammer up for them to see. "For eight millennia- since the dawn of our race- dwarves have ruled under Farthen Dûr. We are the bones of this land, older than both the fair elves and the savage dragons."
I am old, humans- even by our reckoning- old enough to have seen the Riders in all their fleeting glory, old enough to have spoken with their last leader, Vreal, who paid tribute to me within these very walls. Few are still alive to claim that much. I remember the Riders and how they meddle in our affairs. I also remember the peace they kept that made it possible to walk unthreatened from Tronjheim to Narda."
And now you stand before me, a lost tradition revived. Tell me, and speak truly on this matter, the reasons why have you come to Farthen Dûr?" He paused and then held up his hand. "I know of the events that brought you here, but what I want to know is you intentions as of now."

Eragon shifted on his feet, his hand falling on the top of belted sword. "For now, Saphira and I merely want to recuperate in Tronjheim. We are not here to cause trouble, only to find sanctuary from the dangers we've faced these last months."

"Then it is your desire for safety that drove you?" asked the king. "So you just seek to live here and forget your troubles as if they are nothing more than vapors in the sky?"

"If you have been told of my past you would know that I have enough grievances to fight the Empire until it is nothing but scattered ashes," said Eragon with a shake of his head. "More than that though, I want to help those who cannot escape Galbatorix, including my cousin." He paused and looked at Rose, and she could feel his unspoken words, and those slaves. "I have to power to help, so I must."

The king Hrothgar nodded, a small smile playing at his lips. "What do you think of this matter, Dragon?" he asked looking at Saphira.

Saphira growled however lightly, and Eragon said with a slight tremble in his voice, "Saphira says that she thirsts for the blood of her enemies and eagerly awaits the day when we ride into battle against Galbatorix. She has no mercy for traitor and egg breakers like the false king."

"I see that dragons have not changed in the last centuries," the king mussed with a grin. Then he turned to Rose and studied her for a short moment before lifting his eyes to Thorn. His smile faded as he said, "I know some of the reasoning why you have come, Rider, but I cannot say I know why you followed or what you wish to accomplish now that you are here. What are your reasons?"

Rose knew what she should say, what the words would be safest but she also knew that she could not say them. It was be much more perilous to lie and then be proven a liar, than it would to say the truth. Her mind rebuked the thought but she took a deep breath and steeled herself. She was not falling into a game that she would not play.

"Of that I am not quite certain," said Rose, feeling that she was being a little too honest. She looked up at the dwarf king's face the first time and allowed herself a moment to think. "In the last months of the passing year, the last months I lived in Urû'baen, King Galbatorix summoned me to a dinner. We did not talk, rather I did not, but he told me of his plans for me. For my future. He had the thought to form me, shape me, into a weapon of his own use. I fled because I did not want the life he planned for myself, and still I do not. If I am to pick up a blade it will be because I wish to, not because another commands that I must. And so, to answer you truthfully and without qualms, as of now, I will not rise against Galbatorix nor will I side with him."

The dwarf stared openly at her, and she forced herself to meet his gaze. She had thought over those words, carefully picked them as he preached his introduction, willing them to matching his tone, to inlay her words with warning as he had his. And from the shadowy look he gave her she had succeeded, though she did not think it be a good thing. She had given him nothing, certainly this was not what he wanted, but rather presented him with a wildcard. Despite the risk, she hoped it would end in her favor that he would leave her well enough alone, though she felt that if anything he would be watching her rather closely. She did not care, not truly, there was very little that she would do which might be even mildly interesting.

"And what do think of this matter, Dragon?" he asked turning to Thorn. "Do you simply wish to sit around and think over your choices?"

Thorn said nothing, he did not need to, Rose knew what he was thinking without having to ask, so she merely blinked and said, "It depends on the situation. As much as Thorn would like to vow to shred the throats of your enemies as Saphira declared she would, he would rather know what may come from doing so. Not the rewards but also the risks."

And perhaps the possibility of chasing a few weasels, added the dragon and though Rose did not repeat this she found herself smirking.

Now may not be the best time to make anecdotes, Thorn, she told the dragon, forcing her face to be passive. It was not hard, all she had to do was think of where they were and why, and the grin slipped easily away, but she continued to keep the dwarf king's gaze. She wondered whether the king thought them to be mad, she certainly felt as if she seemed so.

Finally he nodded and Rose dropped her eyes, looking again at the hammer in his lap. His hands tightened around its handle, the muscles in his arms flexing. Suddenly she had a strong desire to never allow him to use it against her. The head of it was nearly as big as her head.

"I am afraid," said the king, clearly troubled "that our time together is coming to a close and I cannot speak much longer. My advisors await me, as there are matter I must deal with, however I do not believe that this will be the last time we shall speak. I will say this, before you leave, we dwarves have long memories and have seen many cycles abscond and relapse. The words we spoke of today mean little if our deeds do not hold them." He paused and nodded slightly. "So long as you keep this in mind, you may go."

Rose dipped herself quickly and turned away, understanding their dismissal, and after a delay Eragon followed. She could feel him glancing at her but keep her eyes on the doors ahead. She was not ready for the questions she knew he had.

As they came closer the doors opened, she hurried her steps. Uncertainty coiled in her belly like an angry snake. More than anything she did not want to be left down a cool, dark cave with a dwarf king and his guards. She did not wish for him to the order that might cause that entrapment. But that order never came, and they left in stony silence. Rose saw Brom leaning against the wall watching the doors, and composed herself. He stood up as they walked out, his face unreadable, and studied them before guiding them up a staircase without a word.

As she followed him, Rose noticed how he held his side slightly, and thought again of the injury Selena spoke of. She wondered what had happened with the Ra'zac that had injured him and why he hadn't sought healing, or healed himself for that matter. He certainly had the capability to do so. Her mind was still on this matter as they came to the streets of Tronjheim, and the old man turned to them.

"I would like to speak to these two alone," he said to the dragons looking at them each in turn. "The exit is that way, if you go straight you reach it without any trouble. It won't be long before I return them to you."

Thorn huffed and nudged her from behind. Be careful, he said.

Should I not be the one saying that to you?

He said nothing but nudged her again before walking away, Saphira walking slowly ahead of him. Where the dragons walked the people's eyes followed and Rose instantly understood why Brom had sent them away. He wanted to walk the halls without the nuisance of following eyes and whispers- the dragons were too big, too noticeable not to draw eyes their way.

Without the dragons they were able to slip into the crowd and walk faster than before though soon the crowd ebbed and they came to a familiar stairway towards the apartment Selena and Brom used. With a sigh of recognition, Rose followed the men up the staircase though going much slower than they were. She studied the smooth stone, and saw no mark of a chisel- the stone was flawless.

Brom turned off much sooner than she thought he should and opened a door into a dark, musky room before striding inside. Eragon paused in the doorway, and looked questioningly behind him. Rose met his gaze before ducking into the room with a frown- throughout their walk Eragon hadn't said a word. He had remained strangely quiet. She did not like the prospects of what he was thinking.

"What happened?" Brom asked the moment they walked inside.

Eragon looked up at him, and strode across the room to a table. He tested it, seeing it if would hold his weight before lifting himself onto it. "What would make you think something happened?"

Brom gave him a sour look as he light a lantern from the wall and placed it beside Eragon. "I saw the look on your face," said Brom, setting another lantern alight. "Rose, close the door. I don't want any eavesdroppers."

She looked up at him, and silently walked towards the open door. The smell of mold and stale air were thick enough that she did not mind someone overhearing them, still she did as she was told and slowly pulled the door close. Turning around she went back to studying the room, it reminded her of time as a child when old and abandoned rooms were something be explored and played in. The apartment Brom brought them too was of the same layout as Selena's, though it seemed much bigger without any furniture to take up the space. The table and a worn bench, just out of the lights' path, were the only things inside it. She could not see the walls to see if there was any sort of painting. Rose walked closer to the men and stood in the middle of the floor unsure of where to go.

"What happened with Hrothgar?" Brom repeated.

Eragon studied the lamp before looking up. "He wanted to know why we are here," he stated simply, without offering any more.

"And what did you say?"

"That we are here for a rest until the time comes to rise against Galbatorix," he said. "I told him that we'll fight."

Brom narrowed his eyes in the dim light and glanced at Rose. "'We' as in you and Rose and the dragons or you and Saphira?"

"Me and Saphira." Eragon shifted on the table. "What happened to Orik?"

Brom settled back on his heels. "He had business to attend to," he said snappishly. "What did Rose say when he asked her?"

Eragon looked up him uncertainly. "That she won't side with either the Varden or Galbatorix."

Brom seemed to relax slightly. "Good," he said with a slight. "That's good. Hrothgar probably didn't take it well but its better this way. They won't be expecting anything of you, Rose, not for now at least. It should buy us some time."

"Time for what, exactly?"

Brom shrugged and seated himself beside Eragon. The table squeaked under their weight. "To think," said Brom. "To plan. I hadn't wanted to take either of you here but with that egg we didn't have much choice and it wouldn't have been long before Galbatorix found you. He had sent the Ra'zac on our trail, it would only be a matter of time… But for now I'll continue your lessons. It will keep the dwarves and Varden from meddling too much. What else did Hrothgar say?"

Brom looked at Rose and she found herself frowning at him. "He spoke of his people's past rulers, and spoke of the time he sat idly under the mountain as the Riders rose and fell, before questioning our intentions however Hrothgar was speaking of more than that," she said, speaking for the first time since they left the king's hall. "He spoke of being cautious that old betrayals do not become a cycle. It was a warning."

"It was." Brom stared at her, and Rose did not miss the hard flash behind his eyes nor the sudden frown. Slowly he turned his attention back to Eragon, but the scowl remained. "I believe we have talked about this matter enough for now," he said. "You should return to our quarters. From where we stand its four flights up. We will join you shortly- and please, Eragon, for the love of the gods, stay out of trouble."

Eragon nodded and scuttled down from the table. "Until then," he said to Brom, ducking his head. He sped through the door, shutting it roughly, and disappeared into the courtyard.

"You did not need to send him away," she said, watching him go.

Brom turned to her and frowned. "Sit down, Rose," he said, gesturing to the vacant spot where Eragon had sat moments before. "I believe it is time we've talked."

She remained standing, watching the old man cautiously. "We have talked before."

"Yes, with four sets of prying ears about," said Brom wringing a pipe between his fingers. "This conversation shall remain between the two of us, and Thorn should you decide to include him."

"That depends on the subject at hand."

The old man laughed though it was not cheerful. "You have a right to be cautious," he said. He paused as his hands searched through his pocketed before falling to his sides, empty of whatever he was rummaging around for. He pocketed the pipe. "Of many things. Of the warnings you heard today, the people who will hunt you, the connection seen between you and Morzan, but do not fear it. You are not Morzan. You will never become that."

Rose looked up him as a cold rushed through her body. "You cannot truthfully say that you know that," she said.

"I know enough about it to know that I will gladly pledge to whatever gods you believe in that you and him are not cut from the same stone. You forget that I grew up with Morzan, I was one of the few that knew him best when he around your age. I see him in you but the similarities are nothing to worry yourself over," he said monotony, as if he put much thought and effort into these words but they sounded died even to her ears. She wondered how much the subject pained him, or angered him. "There were many horrible things that he did, very many, but not all of him was bad. Your mother used to remind me of that until she forgot it herself." He paused for a short time, scratching at his beard. "People's minds are hard to change and dwarves are like the hardest of stones, you can't just chip away at the surface. Do not worry yourself what these people compare you to. You do not have to prove them anything, or yourself. With this in mind, it is time that you as a Rider know how to use the Ancient Language."

Rose looked away and huffed at the suggestion. "I would rather not, thank you."

"I've seen many children Riders lose their dragons before dying theirselves," he said. "They did not know how to wield magic and did not know how to heal their young dragons. Most of the injuries a Rider that was only half trained in magic could heal. Listen to me when I tell you that you do not want anything to happen to Thorn. It will leave you feeling like you have nothing left in this world, as if you have died and not the other way around." Brom stood up from the table, stretching his arms. "You don't have to make your decision now, think about it and talk to me later."

She said nothing as he stepped towards the door and walked out, glancing at the broken fountain on the landing, and then with the realization that many of the halls were crowded and she had little idea of where she was, she silently followed after him up the stairway and onto a balcony. Rose turned and glance at the branchy plant, it looked half dead, before going into the apartment. It looked no different than the night before. She watched as Brom disappeared behind the door at the end of the hall and shut it. Selena was nowhere within sight. It was likely that she was not here at all.

Glancing about the room once more, she made her way towards Eragon.

"What did Brom want to talk you about?" he asked her as she sat down on the divan beside him.

Rose looked at him and felt herself bit at her lip. "He wished to speak of the warning we were given," she lied. "The many that all led into one single message."

"I heard the warnings." Eragon frowned at her. "But what did you conclude?"

Rose leaned back against the cave wall and closed her eyes. Suddenly she felt very tired, it was as if the meeting with the dwarf king had physically drained her of her energy. "For us to trend carefully," she told him evenly. "We have more enemies than we do allies."