It was only when his feet hit the ground that Gabranth finally took in the sight of the people awaiting him. He saw a tall, powerfully built man, his skin the color of ebony. The dome of his head was shaved bare, but a closely trimmed black beard covered his chin and upper lip. Strong features shadowed his face, and grave, intelligent eyes lurked under his brows. He bore himself with great dignity, exuding an intense, commanding air. He must be the leader of the Varden, Ajihad, and the man who had come close to killing Durza. It was a pity he hadn't succeeded in doing so. For that feat alone, Gabranth harbored small feelings of respect for the man. At his shoulder were two tall men, both bald and beardless, dressed in purple and gold robes. The Twins.

His gaze swept past them, setting eyes on a dwarf. Upon his head was a gold helm lined with rubies and diamonds. His visage was grim, weathered, and hewn, showing many years' experience. Beneath a craggy brow glinted deep-set eyes, flinty and piercing. Over his powerful chest rippled a shirt of mail. His white beard was tucked under his belt, and in his hands he held a mighty war hammer. He was the King of the dwarves, Hrothgar, no doubt. And by his furious expression, he must have gotten that message from the dwarf that Gabranth had assaulted.

Standing beside him was a younger dwarf, who wore chain mail with an axe hanging from his waist. His appearance was similar to that of his king, if not as grand and majestic. He continued looking down the line, stopping on the elf. Again, that strange feeling bloomed in his heart as he stared at her. Her brows were slanted, but unlike the others, her expression wasn't alarmed, seeming to be merely alerted. He forced his eyes onward past Murtagh who stood next to her, to Brom, and to the woman standing next to him. Instead of a dress, his mother wore clothes of padded leather, with black bracers upon her forearms and greaves upon her shins, a sword and dagger hanging from her waist. Her expression was one of pain as she stared at him. Standing behind her were his servants, anxiety marring their expressions.

Finally, he saw that not far off was a battalion of soldiers, humans and dwarves alike. Stepping forward again, he turned his helmed head in Ajihad's direction. "A warm welcome indeed."

Ajihad frowned, his alert expression never faltering as he spoke. "Why is it that you invade our halls, Gabranth? Is it for the dragon egg?"

He shook his head, surprising most of his audience. "No, I've come for another reason. If you would cooperate willingly with me, than I shall soon be gone from your presence."

The dwarf that stood beside Hrothgar angrily spat on the ground. Disgusting, Gabranth thought, why is it that all of the dwarves that I've met only know how to spit? "Do not insult us. You think you can threaten our race and burst into Farthen Dûr, and we'll just let you leave?"

Hrothgar raised his hand to silence the angry dwarf; he spoke in a guttural tone. "What is it that you seek within the Varden? We have nothing valuable to you besides our Riders." Riders?

Saphira's surprise flooded through him. The egg must have hatched! Pushing that thought aside, he focused himself. "I'm here for a person." He turned so that his body faced his mother, holding out his right hand. "Come back with me, mother. To Urû'baen."

Her expression seemed to become even more pained as she glanced between his outstretched hand and Brom and Murtagh. His half-brother, Gabranth noticed from the corners of his eyes, slid his hand to the hilt of Zar'roc. So he wasn't going to let go of their mother easily, thought Eragon. It wasn't his intention to hurt Murtagh but if he had to, then he would. "Don't do this," she whispered.

"I don't want to force you, mother," he said, a little more forcefully, as hurt spread through his veins like wildfire. She had refused him, just as he had hoped she wouldn't.

"Era—" Brom began, his face tormented.

"I don't want to hear it!" He yelled at the old man, his head snapping to face him, shocking everyone at his sudden outburst of anger. "I may have lost the rights to bear that name, but you aren't entitled to call me by it either!"

Quelling his anger, he turned his attentions back to his mother. "Please." He whispered quietly. His mother shook her head. Gabranth lowered his outstretched hand, balling his hands into fists. She was abandoning him. Like Brom did. Her own son. For her lover and for her other child. Steeling himself, he sighed. There was no point dragging her back to Urû'baen if she refused it as much as was currently doing. It would only serve to hurt her further. He turned to leave.

"Wait!" She cried, desperation coloring her voice. She stepped towards him. "Your helm. Please take off your helm so we can talk without these barriers."

They stood there, facing one another, before at long last; he removed the helm from his head in one swift motion, tucking it under his arm. He ignored everyone's shocked expressions at his young and elfish appearance, concentrating only on his mother. Those who heard him speak without his helm for the first time were even further surprised at his deep and slightly musical voice. "What is there to speak of? When you refuse to return with me to Urû'baen? When you ally yourself with the Varden?" asked Gabranth. "I can't protect you here, not when I'm fighting for the king."

"Then don't fight the Varden. Eragon, you can choose, you don't have to fight for Galbatorix. You can join the Varden." His mother whispered. He didn't stop her as she spoke his real name. Only she and Saphira had that right.

"I cannot."

"Why not?"

He refused to answer, turning his gaze to Ajihad and to Hrothgar instead. "I do not think your leader or the dwarves' King would approve of the likes of me, wandering these halls."

"That is not so." Ajihad replied, albeit stiffly and reluctantly, but still shocking him. Hrothgar nodded. "If you give your oath not to turn against us, if you allow yourself to be examined by the Twins or our elven ambassador, then perhaps we can trust you."

"See?" Selena said with a smile and a glimmer of hope in her brown eyes. "You can, you just have to decide for yourself."

"Eragon." He felt his anger flare as Brom spoke. The old man ignored his furious eyes and stepped towards them. In a flash, Gabranth had one of his swords in hand, pointed directly at Brom's chest. That was when Murtagh had decided to break his silence. He ran forward, Zar'roc flashing, and raised the crimson red blade, pointing it directly at Gabranth.

"Lower your sword!" He hissed, his gray eyes a raging fire.

Gabranth pointedly ignored him. "Don't you dare call me by that name." he warned. "Not after you abandoned me. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have suffered as much as I did."

Brom motioned to Murtagh. "Lower your sword." When he refused he repeated the order more forcefully. "Lower your sword, boy!"

"If he lowers his!" He angrily retorted. His mother, who stood off to side, seemed to be in a panic as she saw her family face off at each other, both of her sons bearing blades.

"Stop it, everyone!" she cried. She ran up tugging at his arm. "Please, Eragon. Let him explain, let me explain. You've always asked why your father abandoned you as a child. And now you have the chance to listen to his answer! Please, lower your sword."

Murtagh glanced wildly between the two of them, his eyes moving from Gabranth and back to Brom. "HE'S HAD SIXTEEN YEARS!" Gabranth roared, ripping his arm free from his mother. "Sixteen years," he whispered. "But he hadn't once thought of the young child that suffered in the dungeons of Urû'baen. No, he could run around risking his life for the Varden and train their new Dragon Rider, but couldn't muster up the courage to come for his own son."

"I do not blame you for hating me, Eragon," Brom whispered, his face pained. "But before you leave, just let me tell you why I never came to see you or your mother. Just a moment of your time, that is all I ask."

Saphira, who had remained quiet until now, nudged his mind gently. Isn't this what you've wanted? Lower your sword, Eragon, listen to his explanation.

What is there to explain?

Your anger and hurt is clouding your judgment; lower your sword, and hear him out. Or you'll regret this for the rest of your life. Hesitating, he reluctantly lowered his sword, leaving his arm lax by his side. Eventually Murtagh lowered his. Brom stared at him for a long while before he opened his mouth to speak. Instead of the normal tongue, the ancient language flowed from between his lips.

"Sixteen years ago," began Brom, "when the red egg was stolen from Galbatorix's citadel, our agent who was assigned to the task unexpectedly took the egg and left with it. I spent nearly a year trying to track him down. And at that time, your mother was pregnant with you. However, she didn't know it was so. When Morzan ordered her on a mission, she thought it the opportune time to hide Murtagh from his father's clutches. She went to Carvahall and there she hid him there, but… on her journey back, she realized that she was pregnant with you. And in order to avoid Morzan's fury when he realized that the child wasn't his, she decided to keep far away from his castle."

His face scrunched up in pain as he continued and Gabranth felt his heart racing wildly in his chest. "I heard during my battle with Morzan that your mother had gone missing, and as soon as I had killed him and retrieved the egg from his body, I made my way to the castle in which she had lived. There, all the servants had told me that she had disappeared months ago, escaping with Murtagh. I had thought that she had finally found freedom but when I found Murtagh in Carvahall without your mother, it was not so. I'd asked her brother what had become of her and he said that she left once he took in Murtagh. For months I traveled between Carvahall and the castle in hopes of finding your mother but to no avail did I achieve that goal. I had thought that she had died. I attempted to scry her, but she had wards placed to block any attempts. You see, Eragon, I never learned of your existence."

His breathing was harsh as he took in Brom's explanation. All of these years, all of his hatred at being abandoned, his hurt at being unwanted, was from a misunderstanding. He didn't want to accept it as the truth. No, he had suffered so much and to know that the father he had always blamed for all of his misfortunes didn't mean to cause them made his heart hurt. His mother nodded as she too spoke in the ancient language.

"When I gave birth to you, I thought that maybe I could take you to Carvahall as I had done for Murtagh. It was not so. On the road to the small village, a group of soldiers found me and I was soon brought to Galbatorix. I was weak, I was no match for him and I couldn't find any way to save you except for agreeing to live under him as his subject. I thought that maybe when you were old enough you could find the strength to leave Urû'baen. But that hope was dashed when Saphira had hatched for you." He wished it was all lies; it would be easier then. But how could it be? A small part of his mind asked. They spoke in the ancient language, and your mother would never lie to you.What about all the years he had lived in such hatred and anger? Should he simply throw it away? His grip on his sword tightened.

Speaking in the common tongue in order to keep from revealing his true feelings, Gabranth breathed in deeply. "I don't care what your reason was. I was still left to suffer under Galbatorix," he said, trying to control his voice. "To simply forget and to forgive all that has happened to me? The extent of the tortures I've experienced, you cannot imagine. It would be far too difficult. It is not so simple that I can just let go of such hatred, pain and resentment, that I've held on to for so long. Nor do I wish to do so."

Eragon. Saphira said, gently. He shook his head. What do you want to do now?

I don't know anymore, he replied truthfully, turning away from the congregation. Suddenly, he felt like the twelve year old child, locked in a dark, cold dungeon and wanting to be free. A feeling of loneliness and fear washed over him like ice-cold water. I don't want to be alone, theyoung boy cried in his mind. Grappling with his emotions, he felt himself shy away as his father moved towards him. When Brom spoke, it was back in the normal tongue. "Eragon, I know you hate me. I know you feel disgusted at the thought of having someone like me as your father. I understand that you don't want to throw away your hatred for me, but don't let that affect your judgment. You said you suffered beneath Galbatorix, so why do you not leave his service?"

"And join the Varden?" he laughed, feeling half-crazed, knowing he could not reveal the true reason. "Why should I? Wouldn't I suffer just as much? After serving Galbatorix for so long, I accepted my fate long ago. And to now find myself open to such choices?"

"That is only if you make it so," Ajihad spoke finally. He stepped forward and suddenly, Gabranth felt crowded. "Actions you perform here will overshadow your other deeds while serving Galbatorix. The brighter you shine, the less people will think of what you've done in the past."

His mother spoke up. "Eragon, it's up to you to make the choice but think, you'll be free. "Free. The single word tumbled endlessly through his mind. He would be free. And so would Saphira. But what was freedom when you were being chased? He didn't want to enslave Saphira to such a life, for if Galbatorix were to find out . . . he went cold just at the thought. And there was the other reason.

I will be fine.

Will you? He asked.

To be free, how I've longed for it. And so have you. Remember, I'll follow you to the ends of Alagaësia, Eragon. It's up to you to make the decision for yourself.

Trust and love, the warmth of her feelings, washed over him like a blanket. Straightening, he stared at them with determination. His eyes traveling from one person to the next person, lingering the longest on the elf. Her green eyes were bright and her expression was unreadable but he found some comfort in it and that strange feeling welled up in him again as he came to a decision. He turned back to Ajihad. "I will join the Varden, if you will accept me."

Suddenly his servants let out a shout of joy as all the fear and anxiety disappeared. His mother began to sob uncontrollably into Brom's chest, who was smiling with a tearful expression. Saphira let out a deafening roar, a jet of blue fire, crackling in the air. Hrothgar had an expression of approval on his face with the young dwarf next to him smiling. Even the elf had a smile on her face. But the Twins looked beyond shocked at his betrayal. A smile suddenly found his way onto his face.

"Let me make amends, starting with this." He turned to Ajihad. "You wonder why your agents disappear, do you not? Why Durza knew where to ambush your elven ambassador? There are spies amongst you."

"And you know who they are?" Ajihad asked, a grim expression returning to his face. Gabranth nodded, he had always disliked the Twins. Always. They took great pleasure in the fact that Galbatorix treasured them as his eyes and ears of the Varden.

"They are standing among us." He pointed towards the twins who were paling with a sheen of sweat on their faces. Hrothgar let out a yell while Ajihad's eyes widened in surprise. Without warning, they turned on their heels and fled, but before they could even move a few yards away, a ball of emerald light hit both of them square in the backs. The two of them fell to the ground.

The elf had her hand raised, a dangerous expression showing on her beautiful face. "I knew they were... unpleasant... but not to such an extent."

Ajihad was still in shock, however, as he gazed at their fallen but still breathing bodies. "The Twins?"

"Did it never occur to you?" Gabranth asked. "Only people with ranking such as theirs would be able to obtain such information and deliver it to Galbatorix with ease, for they are magicians. They, who search the minds of people joining the Varden, are able to extract every single piece of valuable information they need and then relay it to your enemies."

Returning to his normal self, Ajihad had ordered the guards to take the two of them to a cell in which to be heavily guarded. "I would never have thought it to be them."

"Aye." The young dwarf muttered, stroking his beard. "They always were a nasty pair, those Twins. What is it that you'll do with them?"

The leader of the Varden sighed, rubbing his temples. "Execution. Treason has a high price."

Treason. He ignored the words as the elf, with muscular grace, slinked over to them. When she came to a stop in front of him, he asked her the first thing on his mind. "Will you tell me your name now, or shall I continue to call you elf?"

A gleam appeared in her eyes. "Arya. That is my name. And should we call you Eragon or Gabranth?"

He had left the Empire, he had joined the Varden. All of his past deeds, he could throw them away, to not have them part of himself any longer. He didn't have the need to wear a mask anymore, nor bear the name Gabranth a moment longer. He lifted his helm, glancing at his reflection in it. A helm that had been a part of him for four years. Conscious of everyone staring at him, he noticed his mother's tearstained gaze on his face, along with Brom's nervous stare.

You have your entire life ahead of you. You've used the name Gabranth because you were afraid to tarnish the name given to you by your mother. Now, you can reclaim it and live up to it, Eragon. Saphira said.

At that, he glanced back up at Arya, his eyes shining brightly. "Eragon, please. Call me Eragon."