- Left behind -


«…"Behave yourself, I will be back soon"! Yes. Sure. We saw how fucking soon you decided to come back, old elf!» growled the young human, striding from one side of the clearing to the other. As he strolled by it, he furiously kicked one of the stones containing the small campfire, sending it to fly against the trunk of a tree.

One month! He had told them…! It was supposed to be…! One – one month! They had waited him for…! One fucking month! They had waited that bastard like…! And the fucking piece of shit…!


«Oromis-elda is, after all, one of the greatest Riders and best teachers of our time and those two are…».

«This for sure. But do you really think he would–».

«It's Galbatorix. Galbatorix. He used magic for the first time after one month of training. They say that Jarnunvösk could not even speak yet and–» the young Rider had flinched, noticing his presence, and stopped talking.

Morzan had felt his blood boiling. When he had taken a step toward them, the two young men had jumped on their feet, alarmed by the expression on his face.

«…What are you talking about? I want to know what are you talking about!».


«Galbatorix» he hissed that name like it was a swear word. So, finally. After fucking weeks…! Weeks waiting for him like idiots. Weeks scrying him and listening to that she-elf's bullshit and… He kicked another rock with a curse. «…To think that we waited that fucking bastard…!».

…To think that they had even laughed and joked about his absence…!


«Do you think the Masters will come back tomorrow? It has been two days».

He had cheerfully waved a hand at Brom's impatience. «The best two days of my life» he had laughed. «And hopefully more will pass».


…And more days had passed. And they had waited. He clenched his fists. His heart was racing, he felt blood roaring in his ears at the mere memory. He started walking again around the clearing like a trapped beast. «To think that I even scried that bastard…!».


«I would like to know how the Ebrithilar are doing… They should have been long back. What if something happened?».

Sometimes an eye roll is worth a hundred words, but he had still bothered to give him an open answer, if nothing to try and put an end to the conversation. For some reason, thinking that the two old coots should had been back days ago and instead had not even bothered to let them know about the delay had grated on him. «Don't be an idiot. What can happen to two Councilors, here in Ilirea?» he had grunted, and after a moment, only half-joking, added: «Don't worry, bad coins always turn up».

«But we talked to the others and they say that the other Councilors are already back».

«I know».

«But no one knows where our Masters are».

«Ah, the great joys of having a secretive shit as a teacher…».

«Do you think that there is a way to talk to Master Oromis?».

He had felt a wave of irritation at Brom's questions – he didn't need the old bastard back. He didn't care where he was or what may have happened to him. He was perfectly fine even without him, and thank you very much. Really. Bloody nagging elf who had a fit if he was a few minutes late in the morning claiming lack of respect, but was completely fine with letting them wait for him for days and days without bothering to give an explanation.

But then… there was that spell that he had taught him once, wasn't it? For emergencies, he had said… He didn't need the old bastard back. He was not worried. He had tried to scry him anyway.


To think that he had scried him, looked for him, while the bloody elf had already decided to dump them…! He stopped by the campfire, forcibly ripping his thoughts from that subject. Thinking about that, thinking about having looked for the elf like a dumped dog looks for its owner was unbearable.

One month. Waiting the elf. Searching the elf. Worr–No. It was humiliating. The memory of the hours spent on that bloody mirror was enough to twist his guts, to tighten his throat. How could he had been so stupid? Expecting someone to return. He should have known it. He knew it! It had been the first fucking lesson of his life! The lump in his throat seemed to grow bigger and suddenly there was not enough air and he was shaking and…

He grabbed the rabbit he was cooking on the campfire and started violently shaking the spit to cool it down, just to keep his hands occupied, just to focus on something else, something that was not the thought of having waited for the bloody bastard. He glared around as if looking for something to unleash his rage on. Anything. Just to avoid thinking. But he found nothing.


«It has been more than two weeks».

«I know».

«But… they were supposed to be back after two days».

«I know».

«Did Master Oromis answered to y–».

«SHUT UP!».


«…Maybe we were not good enough for his mighty elven-ass, but at least we are not cowards like him!». He took a deep breath and tore a bite from the rabbit to try and push down the annoying lump in his throat, but he found out that swallowing was almost impossible. «…And this sucks!» he snapped, tossing the roasted meat away with all his strength, grateful to have something physical to direct his rage on. The spit flied spinning across the clearing and disappeared in the bushes.

…Or, grumbled a deep voice in his mind, you could have given that to me.

He quickly turned to the large red dragon who was laying on the opposite side of the campfire, with his horned head on his front legs and his eyes closed. «You know what, Krovogon–».

I know, Krovogon interrupted him without moving a muscle. Believe it or not our minds are connected.

«So this doesn't piss you off at all?!» he snapped, taking big steps toward him. As he passed by, he grabbed one of the half-burned branches of the campfire, wielding it toward the head of the dragon like a flaming sword. «You are fine with being treated like an idiot, dumped here like a fucking dog and told to suck it up?!» he roared, letting his anger explode. «He doesn't even have the nerve to show us his face! A "couple of days" my ass! He played us for fools! Found himself a better student! Treated us like fucking dogs he can dump and still expect to wiggle the tail when he finally deigns to remember we exist! And you are fine with–».

One large, black eye snapped open, staring right at him. Morzan.

It was enough to silence him. Morzan pressed his lips together and squeezed his hand tighter around the branch, his heart racing and a wild but powerless fury burning in his mismatched eyes. Krovogon said nothing and just kept staring at him, the black of his iris almost seemed to be slowly whirling around an even darker pupil. After a long moment, Morzan took a shaking breath and lowered his gaze. «…How can you be fine with it?» he repeated, hissing the question between clenched teeth.

Krovogon breathed out slowly and lifted his head, moving it toward his Rider. Without a word, he opened his jaws and wrapped his barbered tongue around the blazing piece of wood in Morzan's hand, pulling it gently out of his hold. Without protesting or lifting his eyes on him, Morzan let the branch slip from his fingers and inside the mouth of the dragon, where it was instantly consumed by magical dark red flames.

Do you think I am? I am angry, he finally said. Morzan's head snapped up at the dragon's words. However, added Krovogon, before his Rider could say anything, while you kicked and screamed, I tried to put the pieces together. And I think that Oromis and Glaedr are not that proud of their actions either.

«Don't be ridiculous» spat Morzan. «Our "Masters" can do no wrong, remember?».

The dragon just hummed and pushed the human with his snout, trying to move him toward his front leg.

Morzan shook his head, but still allowed Krovogon to guide him, and sat on the muscular limb without resisting. Krovogon's presence was always good. Krovogon was his only real friend, the only one who was always there, the only one who cared. Krovogon always made things hurt less. But that time, as soon as he was in the safety of his embrace, he discovered that the pain in his chest was not getting less intense at all. He found himself shaking again, his throat feeling too tight again. He pressed the palms of his hands over his own eyes as soon as he felt them burning, but it was not enough to push tears back, not enough to force himself to calm down, because there was nothing worth crying for, nothing at all, and he hated crying and he almost never did it because it always hurt so fucking much and it was not worth it, especially not for… not for…

Krovogon moved his wings to cover him and pushed his snort against him, and Morzan found himself holding on the harsh scales and pressing his forehead against them as violent, hysteric sobs rocked his body.

Come on, Morzan… muttered the dragon, soft but a bit hesitant in front of that emotional outburst, and embraced him with his mind as well as with his body.

It took him many minutes to manage to calm down and let go of Krovogon, who moved his head away a bit to observe him better. Taking deep breaths, he rubbed his hands over his face, to regain control over himself and wipe away the tears, and closed his eyes, feeling suddenly empty and exhausted. He was not sure what was worse, if the burning, suffocating rage of a few minutes back or this.

He felt the gentle touch of Krovogon's snout on his temple, and a soft blow of warm air wrapped him. He basked in the sensation of that gentle heat and slowly moved backward to lean against the dragon's shoulder, letting the partner of his mind sustain him entirely. What did you mean earlier? he asked.

Oromis is an elf, just an elf, no matter what he says, and we dragons are already too proud for our own good, explained Krovogon, allowing the conversation to go on as if nothing had happened, something for which Morzan was always grateful to him. If you pair this with the vanity of an elf, you can obtain two minds who'd rather disappear on the other side of Alagaёsia than admit that they made a mistake.

A mistake? He generally trusted Krovogon more than himself – Krovogon was much better than him with all those things that involved understanding other people – but this time he could not bring himself to believe that his intuition was the right one. He refused to believe that the bloody elf – unbearable old coot who loved logic and precision above anything else – could have just been a victim of the circumstances. That was not Oromis.

And so what? Are you telling me to just "have patience", then, like the old elf would want me to? he finally asked, not completely sarcastic.

Of course not. I want to set that elf on fire as much as–

Be my guest.

Krovogon chuckled. …But despite all the times he makes my scales irk, I really don't think he would ever be so unfair to you or that other hatchling Brom on purpose. He does care for you, doesn't he?

That's what he says, generally right before one of his endless lectures, Morzan commented darkly. Even talking about the old bastard was enough to make him angry and resentful again. "Morzan, even if you refuse to see it, everything I do is because I care for you and for your future, and I wish you good, and you need to understand that…" and then he goes on and on. Don't ask for the rest, generally I am already half-asleep by this point.

In any case, pointed out Krovogon, ignoring his Rider's snappy remark. I cannot think of any instance in which he has been cruel just for the sake of it. But I can think of many instances in which he avoided unpleasant topics by entirely cutting off the conversation.

Morzan sighed. Yeah, he does that. A lot, he admitted.

And, if I remember right, he was not in his happiest mood the day he left either.


«A meeting?».

The elf had nodded, interlacing his fingers in font of him. «Vrael-elda has requested a meeting of the whole Council, and I must attend».

«Vrael-elda will come here!» Brom had squealed, jumping up from his chair with such energy that he had hit the table, spilling tea from their cups. «Really? When? For how long? Will we be able to see him? Will we be able to meet him, Ebrithil? Please! Is it true that he can–».

Morzan had rolled his eyes. «He's the Leader of the Order, not a dog, you idiot» he had interrupted him, before Brom could even start gracing him with some of his most absurd fantasies. «And I can assure you that he doesn't give a crap about meeting us».

Brom's face had fallen a bit, but he had not seemed to lose his enthusiasm. «But you know him, Ebrithil, don't you? Isn't he your friend? I beg you, Ebrithil, consider inviting him for a cup of tea, it would…».

Morzan had instinctively tuned out Brom's voice. Exactly what he needed: Vrael as the main topic of the day. Brom could go on for hours. «Fucking gods, why me?» he had groaned, rubbing his face with his hands. Then, something had caught his attention mid-gesture. Through his fingers he had shot a look at the old elf sitting in front of them, and had been surprised to notice that he was not paying the slightest attention to neither of them. Actually, he had not even rebuked him for the way he had addressed Brom earlier nor for his language, now that he thought about it.

Intrigued, Morzan had lowered his hands to better observe his teacher. The tea spilled by Brom had stained a sleeve of his white garment, but he had not even seemed to notice. No, Oromis had been sitting quietly, with his eyes low and unfocused and a slight frown on his face.

Morzan had raised an eyebrow. Oho, did you see that, Krovogon? Looks like the old elf's pissed.


No, the old elf was definitively not happy that day, even if until now he had not put too much weight on that. After all, a meeting of the whole Council of the Elders could not be such a humorous affair. They dealt with politics and laws and organizational problem and all those things that named alone where enough to put him to sleep for the good part of an afternoon. All those things that could not possibly be that interesting, not even for an elf like Oromis. So, it had not crossed his mind that the old elf's bad mood could have been caused by something else other than the meeting. Even if…

Well, he can cry me a river for all I care, he growled, stubbornly refusing to let go of his bad mood. He didn't want to come up with excuses for the bloody elf. He wanted to punch him in the face. He's still a coward. He still treated us like shit. And he himself doesn't follow the rules he applies to us: if we had done such a thing, he would have been mad. He gets mad at nothing to us, and then we have to put up with his bullshit? I don't think so.

Krovogon grunted. How to deny it. But, as I said, he's an elf. Elves are incredibly slow-moving, unnerving creatures; dragons bonded to them say that an elf can contemplate a single flower from sunrise to sunset. I honestly don't know what most of my brothers and sisters see in that race... Krovogon made a brief pause to recollect his thoughts. The point is: Oromis is an elf; he behaves like an elf. He calls you to lesson and then has you waiting for half an hour while he does his own things and sees no wrong–

Who even eats blackberries like that!

Krovogon puffed dark smoke from his nostrils. Blackberries aside… That elf flies at one and only speed, and we are expected to follow his rhythm. So, if you ask me, he is just killing some time as he always does, waiting for what he believes will be the right moment to see us again.

So we're still going with the "deal with it" plan as always. Good to know. Do we also have to prepare them flowers for when they will be back?

…Could you please be fifteen and not five for a minute, Morzan?

Morzan sighed and closed his eyes for a long instant. Then, with a movement of his hand, he invited the dragon to keep talking.

Thank you, grumbled Krovogon, not without a touch of amusement in his thoughts. I am just trying to explain you the reasoning behind Oromis and Glaedr's silence, not to tell you to accept it as right. Blind anger will bring you nowhere but to another sleepless night.

Yes, I know. Morzan changed position a bit to sit more comfortably on the scaly leg. So you think that the old coots didn't dump us for good.

Krovogon hesitated. No, I don't think they did. Or at least I don't think that this was their first intention.

What does that mean?

That I don't think that they left with the intention of leaving us behind. And, as I said, I don't think that their silence means that they abandoned us. But we don't what happened at the meeting. Maybe even Oromis and Glaedr don't know what their position is, right now. Maybe they are waiting for instructions themselves. Those little rats have it easy, going around and speculating about other people's affairs, but those are nothing but pointless speculations. People like to talk, but they don't think. That Galbatorix has his own teacher, after all. If he really asked to stay in the Order he should have been returned to his own teacher. But for some reason he ended up with our teachers. And unfortunately, we have no way of knowing that reason. Only they do. And the whole Council reunited to discuss this thing, so I doubt that it was up to Oromis and Glaedr only.

Morzan remained silent for a long moment, pondering what Krovogon said. But with the little they knew it was difficult to speculate about the situation. He felt as if his thoughts had become circular, repetitive. And the red dragon was right: speculations were pointless things, and Morzan had never liked speculations and words anyway. Actions were important. Taking an action, doing something, moving the situation from its stagnant point.

…But how?

We could do it, he said after a moment, pondering the idea that was forming in his brain. We could go. Go and find them. Face them. Force them to tell us what is going on.

Run? Krovogon seemed to consider it for a moment. It will never work. Even if we managed to lose Kelda and Ofan–

We already did it once. Today.

And where would we go? Do you have an idea about their current position? Alagaёsia is a big place, you know? Even a dragon can very well disappear there.

Morzan hesitated. I don't know, he admitted. But I will come up with something, just give me a couple of days. I'm sick of his bullshit. The old elf's not winning this. He's not.


End of the chapter


Author's notes:

Ok, here I am! I am very sorry for the delay, but both my personal life and my own health had been kicking me in the butt lately, and I am in full exam session, so, please, have mercy.

Guys… Guys… 6 Favorites and 13 Followed? You're killing me. A giant thanks to all of you.

Hopefully this chapter did not disappoint you too badly and you still managed to enjoy it, even if you were probably expecting Oromis and Galbatorix, but I needed this peek on Morzan. Don't worry, we'll return on the Crags of Tel'naeìr with the next chapter.

Eh, Morzan, Morzan, Morzan… Many people's headcanon is that he despised Oromis and was a harsh and unloving prick since he was a child, but, honestly, I always had a different story in my mind. Canon strongly implies that young Riders were separated from their families to be trained by the teacher who chose them, so I find it difficult to believe that these teachers would not form a strong bond with their students, like Oromis himself said previously. Morzan is a difficult young Rider, but I can imagine him being more attached to Oromis that he himself believes or wants to admit, and more than the same Oromis gives him credit for.

Ah, "Who even eats blackberries like that!" is referred to this: "Oromis meticulously disassembled a blackberry, prying out one plump segment at a time." – [Eldest, On the Crags of Tel'naeìr], because you really could not expect me not to comment on Oromis' unnerving habits. I know Paolini was going for "old and wise mentor who lives calmly and teaches his disciple patience", but honestly if I was there and someone acted to my face like Oromis often does during his lessons, this person would not teach me patience. This person would get on my nerves. Badly. (Still love the old elf, though).

Guest: Thank you very much! I hope you will keep reading my story!

Phantomdancer15: Don't worry, I will! Hopefully I will not be so unbearably slow for the next chapters… I hope you will keep following me!

xGibbs: No, there are not, and this surprised me a lot when I first peeked in this fandom. Mostly because the Elders' decision to exile Galbatorix always rubbed me as way too cruel for a group of people who are described as good guys and compassionate peacekeepers. Especially if we consider that canonically it was this decision that drove Galbatorix even more into madness and pushed him toward his revenge, which means that they very same Fall of the Riders could have been avoided if the Elders had showed a bit of their lauded will to help those who suffer – I am not talking about the "new dragon" part, I am talking about the "kick him out" part. Even more if we keep in mind that Oromis was the one who led to this outcome. He is supposed to be kind, compassionate and understanding… so, what the fresh hell possessed him to see a young man who lost literally everything included half of his very own mind and who is clearly not fine and to think that it was perfectly fine to treat him like a criminal? Ok, I will really cut my rumbling now, it's already too long as it is. I hope you enjoyed this chapter as well!

…So, guys. This is it for the third chapter! Alla prossima!