Forging The Inevitable

Bregan stood against the wall of the cave, a mad gleam in his eyes. His sword glinted naked in the flamelight, and he pointed the blade towards Gandalf and the Urgals. Gandalf knew that if he charged, the delicate peace he had just established would be shattered. Behind him, the Urgals growled, their guttural voices a mixture of anger and fear.

"Bregan! Put down that sword," Gandalf pleaded. "They will not harm you."

The soldier's hand shook, but he didn't comply. It was, Gandalf supposed, a thought far too alien to his mind; that the creatures of his nightmares and of bedtime tales would not harm him, and that any reasonable, civilised man would have a civil conversation with the Urgals, especially after such a gruesome battle. The poor soldier was almost certainly going to try and rationalise it in the most irrational manner possible. He needed to take control of the situation, ere it got irrevocably out of hand.

"Put away your sword, Bregan," repeated Gandalf, putting more force behind his words, stretching his will out towards the frightened man. "They will not harm you. They are not your enemies."

He started towards the man, slowly making his way to the other side of the cavern, the power of Narya washing away the man's fear and doubt. "Do not be frightened, Bregan, son of Berst. They are not your foes."

Bregan's blade wavered, pointing slowly downwards, till at last, the tip touched the ground, and the blade fell from his grasp.

"What is going on, Gandalf?" asked the soldier as Gandalf neared him. "What—why aren't we dead? Why aren't they attacking? How—what do you mean they—what do you mean they aren't my enemies? What in the name of all the gods is going on?"

Gandalf looked him in the eye, his voice low. "These Urgals are just as frightened as you are, if not more so, Bregan. Their minds were under the control of the shade, who is now gone; with the shade gone. This is a good opportunity to talk with them. They are intelligent beings, like you and me. I firmly believe that, if we are to survive this war, we must talk with them, and form an alliance."

"Talk with them? Ally with them? They're monsters, Gandalf," spat Bregan, aghast. "Beasts! They've killed thousands of our kind, Gandalf."

"As you have killed thousands of theirs, Bregan!" retorted Gandalf, his eyes burning with a sudden flame. "I am aware your people have a sordid history with the Urgals, and I do not doubt that your fear of them is justified. But this is one of those moments, Bregan, when you must rise above your instincts, above your fear. I beg you, think: the Varden's army is but a few thousand, and Surda is a small country. The elves are far away and unaware of the Varden's situation. Our closest ally is the dwarves, and if I have read the situation correctly, not all are eager to aid the Varden. Meanwhile, Galbatorix has the whole of the Empire behind him, and whatever sordid abominations he has found or concocted. We need the aid of the Urgals."

Bregan looked back and forth between Gandalf and the Urgals, his breathing laboured. The mad look in his eyes dimmed, and for a brief moment, Gandalf felt his words had struck home. But Bregan's conflict was greater, and his fear won out, and the soldier spat, "No! Never! They're beasts and monsters and abominations! I will never ally with them!"

Gandalf's anger flared once more. "Very well! If you will not speak with them, then sit here and be silent, and wait for Ajihad. But for my part, I shall speak with them. Do not disturb us, if you value your hands."

With that, Gandalf spun around and hastened back to the Urgals, the rest of whom had awoken and were speaking with their leader in their – admittedly unlovely – language. It was not the same as the tongue of Mordor, which the orcs used, but it was still rough on the ears.

The Urgals were still conversing when Gandalf neared them, stopping some five metres away from them. The Kull had his back turned towards Gandalf, and the lesser Urgals kept looking worriedly to the wizard.

At last, however, the Kull turned to Gandalf, and after a brief pause spoke. "Why would you give to us aid?" he asked.

"Because you needed it," answered Gandalf. "And because the Varden and the whole land of Alagaësia needed it. Come, let us sit down and talk."

Gandalf sat down, crossing his legs. The Urgals, naturally wary, sat down where they were, ready to flee or fight at a moments notice. "What is your name?"

"I have many names, I am called Gandalf the Grey, and Mithrandir, and Incánus and Tharkûn," he answered. "What are your names?"

"I am Nar Drazoghan," the Kull answered, pointing towards himself. "These are my… personal guards, Morinzul, Krolugh and Lurghz. I am the chieftain of the Folgel Tribe."

"I know already how you came to serve Galbatorix, Nar Drazoghan," said Gandalf. "And I know that your minds were under the spell of Durza, the shade. I know also that fighting with other tribes is against Urgal customs. I do not know much beyond that, I confess."

Suspicion entered Drazoghan's eyes. "You can read minds." It was more an accusation than a question.

"Yes," said Gandalf. "I read your minds, whilst you slept, so that I might better understand this mystery."

The Kull sniffed, but said, "You are correct, Tharkûn. To fight alongside another tribe as so is... foul. It is wrong. But we have done so before but in times of great peril. But to fight each other how we did is horrible. That is worse."

"Your minds were bewitched," reminded Gandalf. "The lingering effects of the shades influence clouded your minds, and struck an unreasoning fear into your hearts."

The Kull sighed, shaking his head. "Nevertheless, other Urgralgra are in this… frenzy. They will be still running and scared; hiding in the caves."

"Yes," murmured Gandalf. "The caves. We may not have much time before Ajihad arrives."

"Ajihad?" wondered Drazoghan. "He is their leader? The one of dark skin?"

"Yes, that is he."

"Ah, the Nightstalker," Drazoghan seemed to smile, and let out a ruk-ruk sound, which Gandalf guessed was laughter. "He would make a good Urgralgra. He is stronger than most men."

"And he is on his way here," Gandalf reminded. "With an army behind him. I would advise you to gather whoever you can find in the third tunnel, and retreat to Orthíad, or Ithrö Zhâda, as you know it. There you can wait, until the effects of the shade's presence wears off."

"And what would you have us do then, Gandalf?" asked Drazoghan. "I do not know how many chieftains have survived this battle. There will be a great disorder."

"Yes," murmured Gandalf. He pointed towards Drazoghan, his voice filling with authority. "In which case, you must rally the leaders that have survived and band together. You must convince them to fight with the Varden."

Drazoghan's eyes narrowed. "They would not like that."

"Nevertheless, it is there only hope for survival," Gandalf countered immediately. "You must convince them. Fighting against Galbatorix is the only way to survive this war. And remember, you fight for revenge, also. "

The Kull looked uncertain, looking away from Gandalf in contemplation. The wizard could only hope that the Urgal would accept.

"The Varden would not accept," he said at last. "They hate us, and with reason. We have haunted them for generations, and they have haunted us as well."

"I will speak with Ajihad," said Gandalf. "I will convince him to accept your allyship. He is a wise man, and I am convinced that he can put aside his differences in the face of necessity. This alliance may aid both Men and Urgals beyond the war, too, if an alliance can be maintained beyond it."

Drazoghan looked worried, but Gandalf perceived a glimmer of hope in his eyes. This conversation was not something he was used to, Gandalf suspected; conversing politely with a, as far as he cared, human being, and talks of allyship no less! was as far removed from the realm of possibility as could be conceived, no doubt.

"Very well," said the Kull after a moment's silence. "If this is something you can promise, then I shall do my best to sway my people towards this cause. I think it will be easy when they have recovered their minds: we were angry before, and now we shall be angrier still. The traitor-king has broken his oaths and bewitched our minds. He abandoned us like a broken sword. It is time we removed him from his throne, or die in our attempt. You are right: we fight for revenge."

"It is something I can promise," said Gandalf, standing up, and helping the Kull to his feet. "And I am glad to hear you accept it. Now, be quick, for I do not know how much time is left ere Ajihad arrives. And remember this: the Varden shall very soon leave the mountains, and head for Surda. But be careful, for you know well their fear and hate for you. There will be I expect a great and terrible battle. When the Varden and Surda leave for war you must select the most diplomatic and wise of your chieftains. One who is accustomed to this tongue, and can keep his temper in check."

Drazoghan nodded, and in his own tongue explained to his guards their new mission. They nodded, and the four Urgals, picking up their weapons, ran off into the furthest tunnel.

Gandalf watched them go with a sense of satisfaction, and more than a little hope. He turned and picked up his staff and Glamdring, sheathing the latter and taking the pipe from the former. He strode over to the wall where Bregan sat and stuffed a little bit of pipeweed in, before lighting it; he had earned this smoke, he felt.

Bregan, on the other hand, stayed quite far from Gandalf, keeping a careful eye on the old wizard. Gandalf didn't need to be a wizard to know that the soldier was distrustful of him now, and he lamented the tightly shut mind of a soldier; there were few things as tightly shut. He pushed Bregan out of his mind, focusing rather on what to say to Ajihad.

So a few hours passed, Gandalf sitting quietly and smoking, his eyelids heavy over his eyes as he pondered. The matter of the Twins bothered him as well: more and more time was slipping away, and the chance for them to do harm grew evermore. His only consolation was that, by and large, they appeared to travel together. It would be their greatest strength and weakness.

After several hours, Gandalf heard the thunder of hundreds of soldiers and Urgals rushing down the central tunnel. Putting away his pipe, he rose and swiftly went to Bregan, muttering a small spell of hiding so that any eyes that passed over them wouldn't be interested in them. In the sort of frenzy that both Varden and Urgals were in, it was better to be safe than sorry. It was a rushed job, but it would serve its purpose. The soldier protested, but as the thundering grew nearer, he fell silent. Gandalf dimmed the light from his staff.

Like a swarm of ants, scores upon scores of Urgals rushed out of the tunnel. They ran down the cave, and into the tunnel at the far end. Only a few seconds later the Varden emerged, with cries of war and revenge on their lips, and blasts from horns echoing all over; Ajihad was at the lead, his voice louder than any others. They halted by the entrance of the tunnels, watching the Urgals retreat, shouting and blowing horns.

Gandalf removed the spell, and stood waiting until the clamour died down, and the Varden turned and walked back into the central tunnel.

"Ajihad," said Gandalf, approaching the Varden's leader. The tall man turned, and a weary smile crossed his face.

"Gandalf," he said. "I'm glad to see you. I take it that was your doing?" He pointed to the still burning cave.

"Yes, it was," said Gandalf. "But there are important matters to be discussed. One important matter, at least, which will drastically change the course of the war."

The smile on Ajihads face faded. "Can it be discussed now, or later?"

"Better now, than later, when chance may work against us," urged Gandalf. "It concerns the Urgals."

Ajihad sighed but nodded. "A lot of things are these days."

When Elrond heard that Gandalf had suggested a pact between the Varden and the Urgals, he nearly laughed. Trust old Gandalf to forge a pact between two sworn enemies, and only some days after a devastating battle, no less. And true to his nature, he had already convinced an Urgal to agree to this pact, and all but convinced Ajihad too.

When Ajihad had spoken to Elrond about the matter, asking his opinion, Elrond thought briefly upon the matter. It was clear Gandalf had put greater thought into it than he, and had more reasons at his disposal. But with what little Elrond had, he knew Gandalf was right.

"Galbatorix has the whole kingdom behind him," reasoned Elrond. "The Varden, on the other hand, have some thousand Men, and the hope that the Dwarves will join you in any battles beyond the mountains, that Surda will take up arms against Galbatorix as well, and that the Elves leave Du Weldenvarden when they learn of Eragon and Saphira, and of Arya's survival. Unless there are any allies to be found elsewhere, such as spirits or werecats, you would be wise to accept Gandalf's proposal, and the Urgals would be too. And the Urgals have a culture of warriors. It is honour-based, and honour always plays a part in war, for it ultimately decides whether or not one shall vanquish a foe, or merely replace him."

Ajihad nodded. "I understand your meaning, Elrond. I fear that many among the council of elders have forgotten that."

They ate then in silence; neither brought up the issue of the soldiers: what would they think? Elrond knew from his brief time that the Men of this world thought of Urgals as beasts, and nothing more. They would be loath to fight alongside them. So it often was, that two estranged people must come together by order of their leaders.

'We can only hope Ajihad can inspire the same open-mindedness in his soldiers,' thought Elrond.

Finishing his meal, Ajihad went to talk to Nasuada, then try and rest for about three hours, before starting in the third and final tunnel, and Elrond headed for the healers, a list of potions and herbs to aid Eragon springing to mind.

He wondered through the halls of Tronjheim, admiring the tapestry, the sculptures and statues, many of which served as pillars. They spoke of their ancient history; through their art, Elrond perceived that Tronjheim had served as a place of sanctuary for the dwarves. It was a monument to their love the art, and their skill and dedication.

His mind turned for a brief moment to Thorin Oakenshield and his company of dwarves. No doubt they would admire the mountain-city, and the two kindreds of dwarves would come together and create an even greater city. The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth; the death of Thorin was a regretful one, and it seemed that the years leading up to the battle of the five armies were fraught with errors.

Finally, Elrond arrived at the healers. He set himself to work, preparing a number of ointments and potions with various properties. Some to heal the flesh, others to heal the muscle, some to lessen the inflammation, some to heal the nerves, and some to aid in sleep. He also had some for the pain. It was one that he was rather proud of, for it lessened the pain considerably while leaving the wits intact, as long as the user did not use it over much.

He also found a large number of herbs with healing properties, although most were dry and had lost some of their properties. Others could serve only as kindling.

Two and a half hours later, Elrond left the healers rooms, a few weeks of herbs, potions, and ointments prepared. They were left in storage, in a box under some enchantment of this world to stay cold, with strict instructions given to the healers that none, under any circumstances, were to be touched, and that he would come and collect them personally.

With the matter of the near future completed, the elf-lord went to visit his patient. He found Eragon sitting against the wall by his bed, a soft pillow cushioning him; a book was in his hand, which detailed briefly the history of Men and Dwarves. The Rider glanced up at his arrival.

"Lord Elrond!"

"Please, Eragon," said Elrond, raising a hand. "You have all but singlehandedly saved the entire Varden, I believe we are beyond you calling me 'lord'."

"Of course, Elrond," said Eragon with a small smile. "Forgive me, I find it a little difficult at times. I've spent all my life calling other people 'sir' or 'ma'am' or 'lord' or 'lady'. And yet here I am, being called sir by a page of twelve years, or by the dwarf bringing me a meal."

Elrond gave a warm smile in return. "It will take some time for you to become accustomed to your new position, Eragon. I remember that for some time when I was the herald of Gil-Galad I would on occasion forget my place, and assume a request for permission, either to send a troop to one location or another or to read out a message, was being given to some other elf."

Eragon chuckled. "Who was Gil-Galad?" he asked.

"The last High King of the Elves of the West," answered Elrond. "He led the forces of the Last Alliance against a terrible evil in Middle-Earth, and is remembered now only in song and in the scrolls and books of the elves." Changing the subject, he asked, "How are you feeling, Eragon?"

The smile faded from the boy's face, and he grew grim. "I'm better. But it's still uncomfortable."

Elrond nodded. "That is to be expected. Do me a favour, and stretch forward to touch your toes."

Stretching forwards, the boy grunted as he attempted to touch his toes, making it to the middle of his shins. Elrond hardly expected him to make it as far as he did before the pain was too much. Evidently, the magic that came inherent to a dragon rider had more than a few benefits. Nevertheless, it was still, he felt, too soon to overexcite Eragon; he decided that he'd withhold Gandalf's idea for the Urgal alliance for the time being.

"That was better than I expected," said Elrond. "I think that, if you continue at this pace, you will be able to leave this bed by tomorrow, and soon you will be able to go to Ellesméra."

Eragon's face lit up. "Will you come with us?" he asked. Elrond nodded, a faint smile on his face. "Indeed, if only to keep a watch over my patient, who is known for his reckless behaviour."

The young man before him grinned in turn, and Elrond rested a hand on his shoulder. "But for now, my friend, rest and read, and let your mind wander to pleasant thoughts; tomorrow I shall visit you once more."

But even as Elrond spoke he peered into Eragon's eyes, searching for what he saw earlier, when he had commanded Eragon to awaken; some trace of the mind that was there. When he found nothing, he left.

Now, it was time to aid Ajihad.

Hello everyone. Thank you for your patience. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Sorry for the delay in uploading, as you know I'm not a consistent uploader. However, I also had to finish my year 12 exams. With that out of the way, I can hopefully focus more on my fanfics.

I confess that I do feel the story has been a bit slow so far. I'll pick up the pace, as it were, in the next chapter.

As always, constructive criticism is welcome. I love reading your reviews.