I know its been awhile since I last uploaded, like a really long while, but it's been hard for me to find the motivation to write. Anyway enjoy the quite small chapter, review are appreciated as always and until next time. -The Beagle
Several days later, near the city of Furnost, a small city on the edge of lake TÜDOSTEN, the party finally stopped their headlong rush to escape the empire, safe in Surdan territory. Happy to take a break from the incredibly hard ride from dras-leona, and constantly being hunted by the empire's soldiers they sought respite in a shabbily built tavern that looked perilously close to collapsing, its overhanging second floor leaning uncomfortably far to one side, but it was the best they were going to get, and beggars can't be choosers.
The whole band of unlikely comrades slept soundly in their room, weapons close at hand knowing how flimsy their supposed safety was. The knowledge of how easily they could be captured this close to the border, despite the threat of retaliation from Surda, weighed heavily on their minds. Dorian, in particular, slept a little less soundly than the rest, tossing and turning, clearly in the throes of a nightmare, but not making a sound. A strange figure rose and quietly shuffled over to see what the fuss was about, his bare feet barely making a noise on the rough and pitted wooden floor, his breathing quiet and controlled, clearly not a stranger to moving silently.
"Dorian, wake up" the stranger whispered, "We need to talk"
Dorian cracked one eye open, his instincts telling him to make sure that no danger was present, but after recognizing the strange silhouette that had woken him as Brom, he stood up and followed him out the door as quietly as possible, his skill at silent movement coming in handy to not disturb the others.
They arrived in the large room where food was served, but at this hour, not a soul could be found, it was too early for the breakfast and much too late for any kind of drinking or eating.
"Alright, you have my attention, what is it you want?" Dorian asked, annoyance at being wakened etched onto his scarred face.
"We are safe and out of earshot of the empire, now you will fulfill your promise and answer some of my questions"
"Fine, ask away"
Brom sat down in one of the chairs at a small, rough-hewn table, then gestured to the seat across from him.
"We may be awhile, so I suggest you take a seat"
Before sitting down Dorian ambled over to the bar and snagged a bottle of ale, it's warmish contents spilling over the rim from his tired movements. His knees protested as he sat down, but he silenced a groan and sat down as a rather awkward atmosphere settled around the two men.
"well," Dorian asked, eager to get this line of questioning done with.
"First off, I have to ask how did you come by that magnificent bow?"
That is quite the story old man, so settle in.
It all started many millennia ago when the elves still warred with the dragons, their gleaming blades tainted with the blood of ancients. However, among their number, several figures darted around, casting green light from their fearsome weapons, the ethereal light creating eerie shadows across the battlefield. These elves slew dragons wherever they went, slaying many, sparing none, until the sky rained dragon blood and many an elf, in their bloodlust, danced and sang haunting tunes in the veritable slaughter of their hated enemies. Then a bone white dragon soared in over the battlefield and settled on an outcropping near the fields of battle. As one the elves ran towards this new threat, weapons shrieking as the spun through the air, their grace matched only by the thunder of the dragons as they rallied to this new ally. Surprise spread through the ranks of both elf and dragon like a wave of fire once they realized that sitting astride this magnificent beast was an elf, and his name was…
"Yes, yes, I know the history of the first rider" Brom rudely interrupted, "I asked about the origins of the bow you carry"
"Have some patience old man" Dorian spoke, taking a generous swig from his tankard and in the process spilling some on his tunic, he either did not notice or did not care because he continued his story without pause.
"And his name was Eragon, the first rider"
The battlefield fell silent, dragons and elves alike froze in shock once laying their eyes upon this strange occurrence, both sides trying their best to process the scene in front of them. One elf raced forward, the elves parted in front of him like a silent sea. He came to stop in front of the large white dragon, he was joined by two others. These three elves all had something in common, the strange green weapons that the dragons had come to fear, mighty weapons with only one purpose, slaying dragons. One of these weapons was different from the rest, not a sword or lance, but a bow, of the finest construction. Its sleek curves and simple lines did not feature the ostentatious ornamentation of its brethren, its simple lethality and functionality did not require the inlays and filigree to release its inherent power. The solitary elf bearing this weapon drew back the string to his cheek, as green fire raced along it, a full suit of strange green armor covered his body and the arrow lit up with a volatile green fire.
The nameless elf released the arrow and it split the sky with a line of green fire, appearing like a comet arcing perfectly toward the lone rider. As what appeared to be every elf on the field rushed towards their foolish kin, they suddenly stopped and stared as the arrow completely missed its target.
"That was the last arrow I shall ever fire, never again will I or this bow spill the blood of a dragon" The lone elf shouted, "This weapon shall only be given to those who will use it for peace, not war". Without another word the elf dropped the bow in the blood-soaked sand and walked away, never to be seen again.
From then on the bow was given as a gift to humans considered friends of the elves, only those who would honor and cherish the memory of the nameless elf by keeping it pure of dragon blood.
"That's quite the story" Brom spoke, his voice laden with intrigue. Without realizing they had burned through three candles already, the last a tiny nub on the table.
"But I'm glad you told me, I'd love to know why the elves chose you to hold the bow, but that's quite enough talking for tonight, shall we continue another time? Brom questioned
"Sounds like a plan, old man"