Eragon stepped back a pace. He could not truly believe it. 'You're his heir?' he asked, cautiously.

'I didn't want this!' cried Murtagh, working to remove his tunic. He moved Tornac so that his back was facing Eragon. 'Look!' he said. There, gnarled, was a scar, from his right shoulder to his left hip, a testament to a terrible tragedy. 'I was only three years old, when my father threw his sword at me in a drunken rage.' He spoke quickly now. He turned back to face Eragon and returned his tunic. 'Eragon, I hate the Empire. But if I go to the Varden, they'll lock me up, for certain.'

'A far better choice than what the Urgals will do to you!' shouted Gandalf. 'Eragon, Saphira, Murtagh can be trusted. Now go! Ask permission for us to enter the Varden.' His voice turned to a low whisper. 'We have wasted enough time as it is.'

Eragon turned to Saphira, then went to the cliff, picked up a large rock, and yelled. 'Aí varden abr du Shur'tugalar gata vanta!' Nothing happened.

A horn sounded. They turned to see Urgals a hundred yards from them. Saphira roared, a challenge for all who dared threaten her rider. She opened her wings and sped towards them. She picked one up, and lifted it high, tearing at it with her jaws. A second later it fell, missing an arm and a leg. Eragon tried to bring her back, but to no avail. Saphira circled them, picking them up, and tearing at them, then dropping them. But they were many. The Urgals shot at her. She rolled, avoiding most of them, and being hit mainly on the scales, which protected her from serious harm. But she roared as arrows pierced her wings.

Eragon shouted again, banging the rock on the cliff face again. But it was in vain. Gandalf bowed his head, searching through his memories, to see where he had gone wrong. And then it came to him.

'Eragon!' he yelled over the din of the waterfall. Eragon turned to him. 'We are on the wrong side! We must go through the waterfall!'

Saphira roared again, and Eragon winced. 'Are you sure?' he asked, struggling to raise his voice over the waterfall.

'Yes!' answered Gandalf. 'Call Saphira! There's no time to waste!'

Gandalf and Murtagh waited anxiously as Eragon called Saphira over. They watched as she dived into the frigid water, and launched out of it, spraying it over them all. The frozen water gave Gandalf an idea.

'Hurry!' he ordered them. 'You must go through the waterfall. Jump!' He stayed back as they moved forward. Eragon turned and looked at him.

'What are you waiting for?' he asked.

'I have a plan,' replied Gandalf. 'But I require you to be on the other side of the waterfall! Now go!'

Eragon moved to him. 'I'm not leaving without you!'

'I will follow in due time! Now jump!' Gandalf said these words with such authority and force, that Eragon merely nodded, and, after convincing the horses to jump, leapt in afterwards. Gandalf turned his attention back to the Kull. They were closing in. He breathed in deep. 'Urgals!' he shouted, his voice deep as the waterfall, and commanding. 'Do not come any further, if you value your foul horns! I will drown you, Kull, and freeze you to the very core!' He said this with such determination and surety, that even the bravest of them faltered. But they were too determined. They strode forth. Suddenly, an arrow pierced their leader. Gandalf did not turn, but lifted his staff, and spoke, clear and cold. He summoned down water from the top of the mountain. Again, the Urgals froze, uncertain as to whether or not they should go forward once more. Again, they pressed on. Gandalf held firm, chanting, until a great sound of crashing water came. He smiled, turned and took off his hat, and with a cry leapt through the waterfall. The second after, the waterfalls pace quickened; the waterfall became wider. The river rose, and drowned the Urgals, sweeping them and their choked cries away.

Gandalf felt the full force of the waterfall hit him almost immediately after he jumped through it. He fell, clutching to his staff and hat, with as much strength as he could. When he finally stopped falling, he kicked back through water, not caring where he went, as long as he could go up for air. As soon as he could, he breached the water's surface. He made his way to the shore and climbing out saw Eragon and Murtagh standing with a group of men. There was a large tunnel, and twelve-foot-high stone doors. Next to Eragon was what appeared to be a Dwarf. There were armed men near the doors, and Murtagh and a bald man in purple and gold robes. The man, whoever he was, and more importantly thought he was, was holding a knife to Murtaugh's throat. Gandalf's eyes blazed.

'So nice of you to finally join us,' said the man, his voice sharp and dangerous. 'That was a nice trick, with the waterfall. Don't try another one on me, or I shall kill your lovely little friend here.' Gandalf opened his mouth to speak. 'None of that now! As I explained to your friends here, if you do anything I don't tell you to do, he will die.' Gandalf tightened his grip on his staff but did nothing else. He could not do anything without endangering Murtaugh's life. But he would certainly get some manner of revenge on him. 'Now, follow me.' He turned and went into the tunnel. Gandalf and the others followed suit.

Long they walked, through the tunnel. The red lanterns provided an earie gloom. Gandalf's thoughts turned to Arya. He had not thought of it before, but she reminded him of Arwen, the daughter of Elrond Half-Elven. Arya desperately needed the antidote. Gandalf wondered how high in esteem Elves were held in this realm. Gandalf sighed, and took the time to admire the handiwork of the local Dwarves. He ran his hand against the tunnel wall, ignoring the spears pointed to him, and found it was smooth, without a hint of blemish. He looked up to the roof; it stood twice as high as him. He then looked to the Dwarf besides Eragon. He had an axe on his belt. It appeared to be of excellent make.

They turned left sharply, and then right, before coming to large doors, that were bolted. They were then unbolted, and the company led in, to a large room, in which Saphira could easily wander about. It was made of white marble. There were the reflections of everyone in the room, but they were thin, ghostly. The doors closed, with a dull boom, and were bolted again. The bald man pushed Murtagh to a guard, who put his sword to his neck.

Gandalf decided to speak up now. 'Excuse me, but—' he was cut off by the bald man.

'No talking!' he hissed. 'You must first complete the examination.'

'All in good time,' bristled Gandalf. 'But at the moment—' again, he was cut off.

'I said no talking,' the bald man spat.

'Young man!' roared Gandalf, now tired of foolish children ordering him about, without the wit to even listen to him. The lanterns dimmed, and it seemed as if Gandalf was the only thing that could be seen. The bald fool stiffened, and the guards shied away from him. 'There is a dying Elf that needs taking care of! Will you aid her or not?' Gandalf looked him hard in the eye. The bald man flinched. The light returned

'How dare you?' he asked. 'I told you not to speak until the examination is over. Now—' this time, he was cut off.

The Dwarf that was by Eragons side came forth. 'Are you blind, Egraz Carn?' he asked, insult clear in his voice. 'Can you not see there is indeed an Elf on the Dragon? We cannot allow her to stay if she is in danger. Ajihad and the king will have our heads if she allowed to die!'

The bald man looked at him, containing his ire, though his eyes tightened. 'Of course, Orik, we wouldn't want that to happen.' He snapped his fingers. 'Untie her from the Dragon.'

Two guards went and did just so. One of them cried out in shock. 'It's the egg-courier, Arya!'

The bald man's eyes narrowed. 'You have much explaining to do.'

'She was poisoned with the Skilna Bragh whilst imprisoned,' said Eragon, returning the gaze with all the determination he could muster. 'Only Túnivor's Nectar can save her now.'

The bald man's face became inscrutable. He stood for a time, motionless, save for his mouth, which twitched from time to time. Then he spoke, coolly. 'Take her to the healers' chambers. Order them to give her Túnivor's Nectar.' The guards nodded and carried her away. He then turned and looked at them. 'Now,' he said, clasping his hands together. 'You will not be permitted any further entrance into Farthen Dûr without completing the test. First, slide your weapons over to me.'

Gandalf took out Glamdring, swiftly, intending to startle the guards. He suppressed a smile when they tightened their grip on the spears. He put it down and slid it over to the bald man. Eragon did the same with Zar'roc.

'And your staff,' prompted the bald man.

'Ridiculous!' cried Gandalf in dismay. 'Caution is one thing, but it is another matter entirely to part an old man from his prop.'

The man smiled. 'I think we both know that is more than a simple prop in your hands.' He held out a hand.

Muttering, Gandalf slid the staff over. The man bowed, mockingly. Gandalf did not know that the worst was yet to come.

'Now, in order to know your true intentions, we will probe your mind. You must remove the barriers from your minds. If you do not, I will extract the information forcefully… which would drive you mad. And if you resist, I will kill your companion.' He gestured to Murtagh.

'Why?' asked Eragon, frustrated.

'To ensure you are not in Galbatorix's service,' answered the man, stepping forth.

Eragon stiffened, and tried to shuffle backwards, only to be stopped by the guards. He took a breath. 'I am ready,' he said.

'Good,' said the bald man. 'Then—' Orik stepped up to the bald man.

'You better not hurt him, Egraz Carn,' he said, threat clear in his voice.

The bald man looked down on him. 'Only if he resists,' he replied. He then placed his hand on Eragon's forehead.

Eragon stiffened. Minutes passed, and Eragon relaxed, slightly. Gandalf wondered what he would show this little man. There was too much to go through. Indeed, millions of years was a long time to gain memories, though many were now little more than faded visions. He soon decided that he would show the past few days, up to where he met Eragon and Murtagh, with the slavers.

At last, he was finished with Eragon. Orik went to his side, carrying a blanket. 'You went too far!' he complained. 'He wasn't strong enough for this.' The bald man waved aside his complaints.

"He'll live. That's all that is needed," answered the bald man curtly.

There was an angry grunt. "What did you find?"

Silence.

"Well, is he to be trusted or not?"

The words came reluctantly. "He… is not your enemy." There were audible sighs of relief throughout the room.

Eragon's eyes fluttered open He gingerly pushed himself upright. 'Easy now," said Orik, wrapping a thick arm around him and helping him to his feet. Eragon wove unsteadily, glaring at the bald man. A low growl rumbled in Saphira's throat.

The bald man ignored them. He turned to Murtagh who was still being held at sword point. "It's your turn now."

Murtagh stiffened and shook his head. The sword cut his neck slightly. Blood dripped down his skin. "No."

'You will not be protected here if you refuse."

"Eragon has been declared trustworthy, so you cannot threaten to kill him to influence me. Since you can't do that, nothing you say or do will convince me to open my mind."

Sneering, the bald man cocked what would have been an eyebrow, if he had any. "What of your own life? I can still threaten that."

"It won't do any good," said Murtagh stonily and with such conviction that it was impossible to doubt his word.

The bald man's breath exploded angrily. 'You don't have a choice!" He stepped forward and placed his palm on Murtagh's brow, clenching his hand to hold him in place. Murtagh stiffened, face growing as hard as iron, fists clenched, neck muscles bulging He was obviously fighting the attack with all his strength. The bald man bared his teeth with fury and frustration at the resistance; his fingers dug mercilessly into Murtagh.

Orik scowled darkly as he watched the combatants. "Ilf carnz orodum," he muttered, then leapt forward and cried, "That is enough!" He grabbed the bald man's arm and tore him away from Murtagh with strength disproportional to his size.

The bald man stumbled back, then turned on Orik furiously "How dare you!" he shouted. 'You questioned my leadership, opened the gates without permission, and now this! You've shown nothing but insolence and treachery. Do you think your king will protect you now?"

Orik bristled. 'You would have let them die! If I had waited any longer, the Urgals would have killed them" He pointed at Murtagh, whose breath came in great heaves. "We don't have any right to torture him for information! Ajihad won't sanction it. Not after you've examined the Rider and found him free of guilt. And they've brought us Arya."

"Would you allow him to enter unchallenged? Are you so great a fool as to put us all at risk?" demanded the bald man His eyes were feral with loosely chained rage; he looked ready to tear the dwarf into pieces.

"Can he use magic?"

'That is—"

"Can he use magic?" roared Orik, his deep voice echoing in the room. The bald man's face suddenly grew expressionless. He clasped his hands behind his back.

"No."

'Then what do you fear? It's impossible for him to escape, and he can't work any devilry with all of us here, especially if your powers are as great as you say. But don't listen to me; ask Ajihad what he wants done."

The bald man stared at Orik for a moment, his face indecipherable, then looked at the ceiling and closed his eyes. A peculiar stiffness set into his shoulders while his lips moved soundlessly. An intense frown wrinkled the pale skin above his eyes, and his fingers clenched, as if they were throttling an invisible enemy. For several minutes he stood thus, wrapped in silent communication.

When his eyes opened, he ignored Orik, and turned to Gandalf. 'You're turn,' he sneered.

Gandalf hesitated. 'I should warn you,' he began, when the man came near him. 'I am very, very, old. You would suffer terribly, should you go through all my memories; my mind would also be very strange to mortals. So, I have picked my memories of the past few days.'

'That will not do,' said the man. 'I don't care how old you are; I need them all!'

Gandalf sighed, angrily. 'Very well!' he boomed, weary with the man's denial of patience and reason. 'If you want them all, have them!'

The man smiled, not even considering the full meaning of these words. He placed his hand on Gandalf's forehead; it felt cold. It was the biggest mistake of his life. Memories flooded through him. There was the past few days, yes, and then a year. In another world. And then another year, and another. They soon became decades. Then centuries. Millennia passed, and yet the memories did not stop. Millions of years passed by and showed no signs of stopping. He saw things undreamed of. A war. Between gods. Mountains fells to ruin. Oceans were spilled over. Valleys delved and raised. Seas of blood was spilt. The Oath of Fëanor. The children of Húrin. The Silmarils. The trees of Valinor; all these he saw. But it was not the end.

There was one, final memory to come. Gandalf's first memory. The Ainulindalë. The first song. The song that began it all. The beginning of existence itself. The Valar, the Maiar, and the One. Eru Ilúvatar. The bald man, his head full of eternity, fell back with a sharp cry. He hit the floor with a thud, immediately crawling up into a ball, whimpering. His eyes were vacant, staring into the distance. His mouth moved wordlessly. Tears rolled from his eyes.

Everyone in the room turned to Gandalf, fear and awe in their eyes.

'Vor Hrothgarz korda!' exclaimed Orik. 'What did you do to him?' He jumped in front of Eragon, a hand on his axe.

'I merely showed him what he wanted,' said Gandalf, calmly. 'No more, no less, master Dwarf.'

'You and he stood there for an hour!' the Dwarf said in shock.

'I have many memories,' Gandalf said grimly. He moved to where the fallen man lay. He knelt down, and placed a hand on his forehead, chanting softly. He removed the memories, save for the past seven days. He stood up. 'He will live,' proclaimed Gandalf. 'In fact, he will be fine. He will not remember much of what he had seen. Indeed, only seven days of my memories will he see clearly. But I think that will be enough. The pain will stay with him, though, and the span of my memories. He will need somewhere to rest, now. Come guards, and take him to his chambers.'

Three guards moved to do so, without hesitation. Orik looked as they carried the bald man away. He turned to Gandalf.

'The four of you will have to stay here for tonight, until something can be arranged.' He pointed to Murtagh. 'You will have to open your mind to us, or you will be locked up tomorrow again.' He turned Eragon. 'I'll see if they can bring you some food to eat.' He then motioned for the guards to follow him, and left, with their weapons, and Gandalf's staff. The door closed with a boom.

Gandalf huffed, and sat down against the wall. He sighed, and took out his pipe, and pipe weed. He warmed his pipe up, drying it off. He then placed some pipe weed in it. He muttered a few words, that Eragon could not understand, and started to smoke. He saw Murtagh, who was sitting against the wall as well, look askingly. He smiled, and took out another pipe, and pipe weed, and the same. He handed it to Murtagh, who began smoking it too. Eragon watched this unfold curiously.

'When did you start smoking, Murtagh?' he asked, sitting against Saphira.

Gandalf answered for him. 'It was the day after we met,' he said. 'While you were flying with Saphira, conflicted over Torkenbrand.'

Eragon opened his mouth in an 'o' shape, then closed it.

'I'm afraid I don't have another spare,' said Gandalf.

'Okay,' said Eragon, simply. He looked down for a time. Minutes passed, and the only sound was that of Gandalf and Murtagh blowing smoke rings. At last, he spoke up. 'Are you alright?' he asked Murtagh. Murtagh nodded. 'Did he get anything out of you?'

'No.'

'How were you able to keep him out? He's so strong.'

'I've… I've been well trained.' There was a bitter note to his voice.

'And you Gandalf?' asked Eragon. 'You said you showed him your memories. But he fell back, like you had attacked him.'

'As I said to master Orik,' said Gandalf, turning a dangerous eye to Eragon, 'I have many memories.' He said then no more.

Silence enshrouded them. 'I didn't tell them who you are,' Eragon said eventually, looking at Murtagh.

Murtagh looked back at him. 'Thank you,' he said, earnestly.

'They didn't recognize you,' Eragon pointed out. Murtagh pursed his lips. 'And you still say you're the son of Morzan?' Murtagh nodded. Eragon was about to speak, when blood dropped from Saphira, onto him. He hastily turned and worked to heal her. Fortunately, the wounds were all rather easy to heal. His task completed, he sat down, tired.

'I hope they bring food soon,' commented Murtagh.

'Mm.' Eragon rested again Saphira again. He looked at Gandalf, who was smoking, his eyes half closed, and his head bowed. He then looked to Murtagh, who was looking into the distance. 'Why are you here?' he asked suddenly. Murtagh jerked his head to face him. 'If you really are the son of Morzan, then Galbatorix wouldn't just let you wander about Alagaësia freely. How did you find the Ra'zac on your own? How is it I've never heard of the Forsworn having children before? And what are you doing here?' His voice rose nearly to a shout by the end.

Murtagh sighed. 'I… it's not a story that… it's a long story,' he said, awkwardly.

'We have time,' said Eragon, looking hard at Murtagh.

Murtagh pulled a hand over his face. 'Alright,' he conceded. 'But I don't want to stop, so get comfortable.' He waited, while Eragon shifted in his place against Saphira. 'Okay. Gandalf already knows most of this.' Eragon's eyes narrowed. Murtagh held up a hand to placate him. 'I know, I'm sorry,' he apologized. 'But I felt like I could trust Gandalf not to judge me based on who my father is. Unlike every other being in Alagaësia. But… I digress.'

And thus, Murtagh unveiled his tale to Eragon and Saphira. He spoke to them of how his father and mother met, and how he had taken advantage of her, turning her into a weapon of his own. He told them of how, when he was born, he was used then as leverage against his mother. He told them that she died, and that Morzan too fell, by the sword of Brom, and that he was then brought to the castle of Galbatorix. He explained to them how, in the service of Galbatorix, he was raised by Tornac. How, he had been left alone for the most part, occasionally talking in the presence of eavesdroppers. His voice then lowered, and he spoke to them of his invitation by the king. He told them how the king had spoken to him grand visions; visions of great cities, and peace all over. Of the extermination of the Urgals, the returning of the Riders themselves. He told them how he was entranced by those words, and how, when Galbatorix asked for his fealty, he gave it immediately. He then told them, in a lower and sadder voice, how years passed when, at last he was called on by the king. He told them that his old excitement returned, but was soon lost, when he saw the king for what he truly was. He told them how he had raged, cursing his foes with the foulest of curses. His voice was no longer sweet and tempting, but cruel, and altogether evil.

He told them then how, in fear he had planned to run away. He spoke of how he had run away with Tornac and were intercepted. He spoke of the bloody fight. He told them, in a cracking voice, how Tornac was slain with a knife in the back. He told them how he fled, and in mourning went to find someone in Dras Leona who he thought he could trust. And how, hearing news of a rising Dragon Rider, he sought the Ra'zac, hoping in turn to find them. He then, at last, explained that he knew the king was flawed, indeed even broken, but the kingdom itself ran fine, and that the rebels, as he called them, wanted to destroy both.

They sat in silence for a while after, with Gandalf seemingly asleep, his hat besides him. While everyone else was surprised about these things, Gandalf of course was not. In fact, the only new knowledge he had gained was regarding the love affair Morzan had with Murtaugh's mother. And Eragon, his curiosity about Murtagh sated, spoke with Saphira, still unsure as to whether or not he could trust Murtagh. Saphira, it seemed trusted him, or at least believed him. It seemed also that her curiosity was now directed more towards Gandalf. As Eragon thought more about it, he did not know much, if anything, about this unassuming old man, beyond that there is more to him than there seems. At the urging of Saphira, Eragon spoke up.

'Gandalf,' he began. Gandalf looked up at him, as if being woken up out of a deep thought.

'Yes, dear Eragon?' he asked, mumbling. Eragon looked at him, wondering how this could be the same man who had fought the slavers, and seemed so noble but a few days ago.

'Saphira and I were wondering, just how old are you?' Eragon shifted again, so as to face Gandalf. 'And what exactly are you? And where did you come from? And how did you do what you did with the waterfall? And why are you here now?' Eragon was nearly yelling again, by the end of these questions.

Gandalf sat, staring at Eragon for a time, before answering. When he did, it was drawn out. 'I hope you both understand,' he began, slowly, 'that I cannot answer all your questions. Some not now, and some not entirely.'

'Why?' demanded Eragon crossly.

'Because there are somethings I do not know myself, and other things that would mean nothing to you, and many things I would rather keep to myself for the time being.' Gandalf leaned forward speaking quickly, and quietly. He leaned back, after a second, and continued to speak, clearer, and slower. 'However,' he sighed. 'I suppose I must answer some of your questions. As to your first, all I can say at the present moment, is that I am far older than any being here, dead or alive. For your next, I cannot say, at least not at the present. As to how I did what I did with the waterfall, it is a spell I learnt from the Teleri, the Sea-Elves of Ossiriand, many of who live now in Lothlórien. As to why I am here, all I can do is speculate. Perhaps this was the doing of evil, or the will of the Valar. No matter who did it, I am meant to be here. Indeed, things are in motion now. War is coming to the Varden, and I imagine soon. We must be ready. Your comings, Eragon, Saphira, and Murtagh, is as the first link in a great chain.'

Gandalf had quickened his pace, and when he was finished, the door opened, and three bowls of food was pushed in, along with a plate, with raw meat, and one and a half loaves of bread. Murtagh threw the meat to Saphira, who snatched it. He passed a bowl, and half a loaf to Gandalf, and shared the other bowls and loaf with Eragon and himself. Afterwards, with Eragon's curiosity sated, they all went to sleep, weary.

Some hours later, though they didn't know how much longer, the doors opened. Gandalf stirred. The dwarf, Orik, was there, his eyes betraying supressed anger. Gandalf felt shock, for a moment, when the same bald man stepped through. But it was not the same, Gandalf realised. It was a twin. In his eyes anger was not supressed.

"You have been summoned by Ajihad," he spat. He refused to look at Gandalf. "If you must eat, you can do so while we walk."

Eragon, who had risen earlier, along with Murtaugh and Saphira, spoke up. "What about our weapons?" he asked. "When are we going to get them back? And our horses?"

The man looked at him disdainfully. "You will get your weapons when Ajihad sees fit, not before. As for your horses, they await you in the tunnel. Now come!" He made to leave.

Eragon stood. "What about Arya?"

The man spun around, trying not to yell. He was clear unaccustomed to having his orders delayed. "She is being taken care of by the healers. Now come." With that, he turned and left.

Gandalf followed last, after Eragon and the Dwarf, Orik. The company rode in silence for a little under an hour, the silence broken only by the sound of horse hooves on the marble floor, and the breathing of people. In the time, Gandalf surveyed the tunnel – dwarf work, for sure. The tunnel did not stray from its path in the slightest. It was illuminated every few meters by elegant red lanterns. Not a single part was out of line, and it was perfectly squared. Gandalf ran his hand along the wall, and found it was smooth marble.

At long last, they came to a light in the tunnel, and saw there great pillars. Light flowed through the tunnel, borne from lanterns held between pillars, and gold was traced through the pillars, like streams flowing through a forest. Atop sat carved raven heads, and their beaks were open. Before them sat two black doors of colossal size, and above it was a seven-spiked crown, encompassing it.

The bald man, who had been silent before now, spoke to Eragon. "You will ride upon your dragon now."

Gandalf took the reins of Snowfire, knowing exactly what the man wanted. He wished now he had his staff, so he could better introduce Eragon and Saphira, which he knew he would. The doors opened, and for a second, Gandalf was blinded. But when the light cleared, and Gandalf could see, he was amazed at what he saw.

They stood in a crater, that stretched many miles into the sky. Far ahead, a great mound stood, and Gandalf saw it to be rather a city, made of what he could not say, but marble, if must hazard a guess. A beam of light fell upon it, illuminating it, and leaving the rest of the mountain in twilight. There were great icicles dotting the mountainside. Gandalf looked aside and saw what looked to be towns surrounding the city. Gandalf then heard Orik speak to Eragon.

"Look well, human," he said, "for no Rider has set eyes on this for nigh over a hundred years. The airy peak under which we stand is Farthen Dûr – discovered thousands of years ago by our farther, Korgan, while he tunnelled for gold. And in the centre stands our greatest achievement: Tronjheim, the city-mountain made from the purest marble.

Then, Gandalf turned his gaze to the crowd that had gathered. The men wore daggers and small knives and looked wary. The women wore homespun clothes. The dwarves looked at Eragon and Saphira, and many were angry. Looking up, he saw Eragon was still engrossed by the city. So, moving forward, he cast his voice out.

"Behold, Eragon, Rider of Dragons, son of none, and Saphira, Queen of Dragons, daughter of Wind and Fire!" He looked up at Eragon, who seemed to, having noticed the crowed and Gandalf's introduction, become a bit panicked. He did, however, raise his hand, in what appeared to be a wave, which he promptly stuck down, embarrassed.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, a single cheer broke through the silence, soon followed by clapping and cheering and whistling, by the men and women and children; the Dwarves looked on with sour faces, or turned their backs and walked away. Saphira stepped forth, releasing a puff of smoke. The cheering stopped, only to return, louder than before. More Dwarves left.

Just then, the bald man instructed them to walk. They continued to the mountain-city, and Gandalf could see clearly the smooth marble, and it seemed to flow, shaped into contours, seeming as if it were poured into a mould. Windows dotted the city, lanterns hanging by each. Directly ahead of them stood great griffins, made of gold, guarding a large timber gate. They passed through it, and Gandalf saw jasper pillars, blood red. Beasts of bizarre shapes stood between each, seemingly captured in stone. They continued to the base of Tronjheim, and saw banners and tapestries hung on arches. Crowds gathered, eager to see Saphira and Eragon, minding only slightly the Grey Wizard who had announced them, and the stiff and pale boy who rode next to them.

They continued through a large hallway, perhaps a mile in length, to a circular room, no less than a thousand feet in diameter. It was a nexus, for four hallways led out from therein. Gandalf looked up, and let out a small gasp, despite himself.

Far above them, hung a finely carved rose. Such was the detail of the carved rose that Gandalf, for a second, thought it to be real. Lanterns hung around it, and a bright light above it, shining down upon them in striated light that seemed ethereal. What held it up, Gandalf could not rightly see, but he would not be surprised if it were magic. Twenty yards it was across, and deep and beautiful red. It was as if in full bloom.

Despite his foreboding sense of oncoming war, Gandalf felt himself smile. This place, Tronjheim, was shaped with the skill of the Dwarf lords of old. It reminded him of Kazad-Dûm in days of yore. For a moment, he was lost in memory, remembering the olden days, when the Dwarves of Middle-Earth delved alongside the Elves. When the two peoples worked together to achieve many a great thing.

He was brought out of his memories by a harsh voice. "You must go on foot from here," the bald man dictated to Eragon. From there, they went into a hall at the farthest end of the room. Gandalf dismounted then from Snowfire, bidding him farewell as he was led away. Then, boldly, wishing again he had his staff, went ahead of the rest.

The room which the hallway led to was large, and filled with books on ebony shelves, reaching to the roof. Lanterns of white light were placed at many points around the room, so a book could read anywhere. A large and intricate oval rug covered the stone floor. In the very centre was a large walnut table, and a dark-skinned man stood behind it. His eyes were heavy and piercing; his head was bald, and he had a close-trimmed beard over his chin and mouth. His shoulders were broad, and he exuded confidence, yet not to the point of arrogance. He wore a red tapered vest, embroidered with gold threads over a purple shirt.

"Welcome to Tronjheim, Gandalf, Eragon, and Saphira," he said, his voice commanding, strong, and deep, yet not unkind. "I am Ajihad."

The trio, Gandalf, Eragon, and Murtagh settled into three armchairs, whilst Saphira settled down behind them. Ajihad snapped his fingers, and a man, robed in purple, leaning on a walking stick came out. Eragon stiffened in surprise when he realised that it was the man who had probed him the day before. His eyes flitted about, and when he saw Gandalf, thinned in anger, and also fear.

"Your confusion is understandable, for they are twins," remarked Ajihad. "I would tell you

their names, but they have none."

Saphira hissed in distaste, and Murtagh stiffened. Gandalf merely frowned. Ajihad peered at Saphira for a moment, then sat down in his tall seat. The twins hurried beside him and stood impassively beside each other. Ajihad, for a time, studied them all, his gaze unwavering and steely.

Eragon squirmed, uncomfortable. For several minutes, Ajihad studied them, until at last he lowered his hands and beckoned the twin that had guided them through the halls over. He whispered something in his ear, and the twin shook his head vigorously, then returned to his place.

"You have put me in a difficult place," said Ajihad. "By refusing to be examined. You have been allowed into Farthen Dûr because the twins have assured me they can control you, and because of your actions for Eragon and Arya. I understand there may be things you wish to keep hidden in your mind, but as long as you do, we cannot trust you."

"You wouldn't trust me anyway," said Murtagh. His voice was impassive, but Gandalf heard a note of fear.

Ajihads face darkened, and his eyes glinted with a dangerous light. "Though it's twenty and three years since it last broke upon my ears," he spoke slowly, as a storm gathers slowly, "I know that voice. It came from another, more beast than man." He rose from his seat. "Get up!" he demanded. Murtagh complied. "Remove your shirt." Again, Murtagh obeyed. "Now turn around." Murtagh did so, revealing his scar. "Murtagh," hissed Ajihad. He turned to the Twins and roared, without warning. "Did you know of this?"

The Twins shook. "We discovered the name within Eragon's mind, but we had no idea that this boy was the son of—"

"And you didn't tell me?" Ajihad interrupted them, his voice booming. "No matter." He raised a hand to forestall their explanation. "We will discuss it later. First, I must untangle this muddle. Do you still refuse to be probed?" he turned to Murtagh.

"Yes," replied Murtagh sharply, tugging his tunic back on. "I won't let anyone inside my head."

"There will be unpleasant consequences is you don't. Unless the Twins can certify you are not a threat, we cannot give you credence, despite, and perhaps because of the aid you gave Eragon, Saphira and Gandalf. Without that verification, Dwarf and Human alike will tear you apart if they learn of your presence here…" Ajihad explained much to Murtagh, but in the end, Murtagh refused still. Reluctantly, Ajihad ordered his guards to take him away, and ordered everyone out save for Eragon, Saphira, and Gandalf.

He turned then to Gandalf. "Now, Gandalf," he said, for a moment betraying the wariness he felt, "You present a particular challenge. That is: you were able to overcome one of the Twins with, if what he said was to be believed, your memories alone. For a long time, all he said was one word: Eternity. Care to explain what that was about."

"Certainly, Lord Ajihad," remarked Gandalf. "I am terribly old, older than any that reside here. Neither Dragon, nor Dwarf, nor Elf is as old as I am, though I have only walked the earth clad as I am for little over two thousand years. And no, I do not think I shall share with you what I mean as of yet, Lord Ajihad. All else I shall share is that I am here to help."

Ajihad remained silent for a time. Many minutes passed ere he spoke. "Your blade," he said. "It is of Elvish make, is it not?" Gandalf nodded. "But it is unlike any of the blades I have seen before."

"Perhaps."

Again, Ajihad fell silent. "I know not what you are Gandalf, nor where you come from. But, you have permitted yourself to be probed, and you did give all your memories. You have proved yourself trustworthy." Then he turned to Eragon and Saphira.

Before they could continue, however, there was a noise like thunder, and a light like lightning flashed, and there before them stood a man clad in shining gold

armor. There was a sword by his side, and a circlet adorned his brow. His hair was like the shadows of twilight. But it was no man. It was an Elf!

"Lord Elrond!" Gandalf exclaimed, amazed. "My friend."

Here it is, the next part. No, I have not yet forgotten about it. I don't promise regular updates. Enjoy, don't hate it too much. Please tell me what you think, and give me your advice.