Another chapter up and running. I hope I can keep this streak going because I really want to see the completion of this story which I've been working on/off for the past two years. That's definitely a lot of time. About this chapter, I really tried my best to keep away from CP. I feel like I'm torn really. Question for you readers, though this story does follow a similar path as the original do you see it differently as you read it? I hope you do. Apart from that please enjoy reading this chapter.
He felt something prod his mind awake as he was slumbering. He was too tired to acknowledge the presence and continued to sleep drifting between his waking dreams. Eragon, said Arya her familiar mind connecting with his. Rhunön is growing impatient as you slumber the day away.
Eragon opened his eyes wide awake. His body was sore but he forced himself to sit up. It wasn't enough sleep to rejuvenate him but he couldn't complain. Rhunön was no doubt just as tired as he was. Sliding his feet into his boots, he laced them up and stood. Walking from the second floor and down the stairs, he exited Rhunön's house and made his way to the open-walled forge where the others were waiting. Saphira and Eridor were lying awake by the forge and he caught sight of Arya sitting on the bench, pale but awake. He could sense waves of exhaustion coming from her. Rhunön wasn't any better, there were dark bags underneath her eyes, signs that showed that she'd worked through the night. The sword lay before her, concealed beneath a length of white cloth.
"I have done the impossible," she said as he stopped before her. She sounded hoarse and it appeared that her emotions were getting the best of her at the moment. "I made a sword when I swore not to! Not by my own hands and with magic to complete a process in which a week's time would be needed. Neither crude nor shoddy. It is a sword of perfection, a sword that shall complete your mark as a rider. Behold!"
Grasping the corner of the cloth, Rhunön pulled it aside, revealing the sword.
Eragon glanced downwards and felt his eyes widen. He blinked wondering if his eyes were fooling him or if he was simply too tired. But they weren't. Before him wasn't one sword but two. They were twin swords each mirroring each other. The blade was covered with a glossy scabbard of the same dark blue as the scales on Saphira's back. The sword was beautiful and he didn't dare say it aloud but he thought that it was more beautiful than any other rider's blade that he'd seen. The blue of the sword and scabbard with its myriad of veins that shined white reminded him of the sky.
"I don't understand," said Eragon glancing up at Rhunön, "How come there's two swords?"
At his question, Rhunön scowled her eyes darting to the seated Arya, "I was asked and persuaded to make you a second sword because it was the best way to unleash your true potential in battle. Normally I would never make one rider two swords. Consider this repayment to your father for not being able to replace his lost sword."
He glanced at Arya but she was staring at the ground as if embarrassed by Rhunön's words. He reached for one of the blades but stopped. His eyes darted to Rhunön's hands, she wasn't carrying a hammer. However…
"May I?" asked Eragon cautiously.
She nodded, "You may. I give these swords to thee, Shadeslayer."
He reached down and picked up one of the swords. It was light in his hands, drawing the blade out Eragon was awed by the light blue of the blade. He twisted his hand slightly watching as the light gleamed off of the iridescent blade, the webbed veins shifting before his very eyes. He twisted the hilt within his hand, easily releasing and gripping the dark wooden hilt. The blade was silent as it cut through the air. To think he fought without a rider's blade all this time. He paused before glancing at Arya. She looked too tired to spar with him but he still wanted to test the strength of his blade once.
"Eragon," he glanced up at Arya's call catching sight of the glinting emerald blade in the sunlight. Reacting quickly he brought up his sword to parry her blow. The blades slammed into each other with enough force that he was afraid his sword would crack. But it remained whole in his hand. Satisfied, he watched as Arya sheathed Támerlein.
He studied the thin blade, eyeing its sharpness. After a moment, he lowered his sword arm and inclined his head to Rhunön, "Thank you Rhunön-elda," said Eragon glad that she had put so much effort into the making of his swords. "I'll make sure that Galbatorix does not forget the strength of a rider's blade when I face him."
Rhunön nodded pleased with his words, "A fitting punishment for collecting my swords for his own purposes. Now you are truly a Dragon Rider!"
He nodded, "Yes, now I am," he stared at the blade once more watching the sunlight beat down on it.
"Now all you need left to do is to name your swords," said Arya as she resumed sitting on the bench. A name? He stared at the swords his eyes running down the length of the blade. This was the blade that he made, he could feel it pulsing in his hand as if it recognized its owner. He stared for a long moment at the iridescent azure. It reminded him of the flames that Saphira could rain down on her opponents with ease. The same flames that illuminated the darkness for him when he was younger. The flames that only grew as he grew older.
He held the sword out before him decided, "Sword, I name thee Brisingr."
Coming to life as if he had wished it, his sword burst into flames a steady tongue of blue fire wrapping itself around his blade. He stared at the razor-sharp steel surrounded by the dancing sapphire flames. It was as if the blade itself was alive. He stared at it for a moment longer before realizing that it was he who was channeling the magic into the sword. Confused, he stemmed the flow of magic and watched as the flames died out leaving the blue blade.
"Did you set fire to it on purpose?" asked Arya staring at his sword. Eragon shook his head.
"Say it again," said Rhunön. He did as she asked and once more, blue flames enveloped his sword. It was like Saphira he thought as he extinguished the flames both beautiful and dangerous.
It's not often that you flatter me, said Saphira her tone delighted as she stared at his sword, A fitting sword that is. And here I was thinking that blue-claw-red would fit the sword.
He inwardly chuckled, blue-claw-red does sound like a good name.
At his words Saphira hummed, pleased with herself. Rhunön reached out for his sword. He handed it to her watching as she spoke its name. But it did not respond to her as it did to him. A shiver ran down the length of the blade otherwise it remained unaffected. With a look of deep contemplation, she handed the sword to Arya. The moment it touched Arya's hands, he saw the pulse in the blade, it was resonating with her contact. "Brisingr," she said holding the blade out from her. To Eragon's surprise, the flames came to life this time however it was different. There was a tinge of emerald to the flames as it licked the blade. She extinguished the fire and returned his sword to him.
"Either your personality was imbued in the blade when you made it or you found the true name of your sword," explained Rhunön as she studied Brisingr, "Perhaps both those things are what has happened. However, I can offer no explanation as to why your sword reacts to Arya. In any event you have chosen well Shadeslayer. Brisingr! Yes, I like it. It is a good name for a sword." He handed the sword to her so she could mark the blade and scabbard with the fire glyph. His attention turned to the remaining sword that was waiting for him on the bench. It was the exact same as the Brisingr even if he didn't make the blade himself.
"I requested of Rhunön-elda if I could make the sword for you while you were resting," said Arya as he stared at the same identical blade. His eyes darted to her and he wanted to express to her how much it meant to him that she would do physical labor such as he did yesterday to forge a second blade for him. He couldn't however for they were in the open and elves were sensitive of private matters. He only hoped his emotions were enough to express to her how he felt.
The blade pulsed within his hand and he could feel a part of Arya within the deadly weapon. He stared at the blue and thought that he saw a slight tinge of emerald but that could be Eridor's scales being reflected in the blade. To name this blade was much harder. It didn't belong entirely to him. No, it was an embodiment of his relationship with Arya. She had saved him from Galbatorix even if she didn't realize it herself. Because of her he was able to see new sights and interact with different races. Eragon's mind wandered to Arya. She'd left this forest seventy years ago as an ambassador of her people, outcast by her own mother. She wandered back and forth from place to place for the Varden and their purposes. She was like him in a way but then she wasn't. He thought of himself and his past life. He had no home, no place of origin. Urû'baen wasn't his home and neither was the Varden, Farthen Dûr, or Du Weldenvarden. He knew it then as he stared at the blade that Arya had made for him.
"Vrangr," said Eragon watching as the blade pulsed to life. He didn't think that it would react in the same way that Brisingr did however another phenomenon occurred. The blade resonated with power the edges lined with a dark violet light while the webbed veins of the blade itself glowed emerald. He stared at it for a long moment before touching the tip of the blade against one of Rhunön's broken tools, the tip melted a hole in the metal with the lightest touch.
When you combine the names of the swords, it becomes Wandering Fire, said Saphira staring at the blade in his hand. Eragon nodded, it was a fitting name for the both of his swords. He drew out Brisingr and held it by Vrangr. As he expected the two blades pulsed beside each other, resonating strongly in his hands. The glow that surrounded Vrangr grew stronger the longer he held it beside Brisingr. The resonance of the blades grew strong enough to the point that he could feel tremors run through the swords and into his hands and arms.
"Your swords are bonded pairs," said Rhunön as she marked the correct glyph on Vrangr. She reached out and held both swords in her hands. He watched as they once more began to resonate. It looked as if the swords refused to stay still in her hands. "When together, the bond between the swords are too strong for a regular person to control. No, only the master can wield both swords at once." She sheathed his blades and handed them to him. "As always, there is a mystery that latches onto you Shadeslayer, these twin swords will be the last that will ever be bestowed upon a rider."
He expressed his gratitude to Rhunön once more this time Saphira joining him. As they left the forge, he left his blade that he'd used before he was given his rider's blades to Rhunön for her to use. It was his promise to her that he would return and bring with him the rider's blades that was stolen for their rightful masters. As they walked he glanced towards Arya. She was tired. He knew from her emotions. Even though she was trying her best to block her feelings from him, he knew better.
From Rhunön's house, Eragon managed to convince Arya and Eridor to fly back to his tree house. To his surprise, it was neat and orderly. It wasn't the mess that he'd left it. Eridor snorted as he curled up in the large basin to rest. I believe the elves found your mess unbearable and tended to it themselves.
Organization was never my forte, said Eragon as he set his blades down on the table. He reached out for Támerlein from Arya. She was reluctant at first but she removed her blade and handed it to him. He placed the blade on the table beside his own. He glanced at Arya and then at the dragons. Saphira huffed but nudged Eridor. The emerald dragon glanced at Eragon before looking as if he was grinning left through the teardrop behind Saphira no doubt flying to where Arya's tree house was. Eragon made his way over to the teardrop to close it but once more his magic got ahead of him and without uttering a word the hole was covered with a snap of magic. He blinked, he was going to have to see if he could control that thought Eragon as he turned back to Arya. She was standing by his table studying their three swords once more. He made his way over to her and embraced her from behind wrapping his arms about her neck.
"Thank you for forging the blade of Vrangr," whispered Eragon beside her ear. He felt her shiver against him.
"You never were one to fight without two swords," she replied as she reached out to glide her fingers over the scabbard of Vrangr. The glyph responded to her touch, glowing lightly underneath her fingers. "Your soul is bonded to mine, there is no other explanation as to why your swords react to me the way they do."
"You're part of me," said Eragon he held her in his arms. He felt her body shake with exhaustion. She may be an elf but she had her limits and to have worked all night on Vrangr surely took a toll on her body. He guided her to the bed for her to sit and rest. "Wait here for me."
He made his way into the side room where the basin was. Turning a knob he tested the hot water coming out. Adjusting it accordingly, he waited until the basin was filled. Satisfied with its temperature, he exited the room to find Arya sliding her feet out of her boots. Copying her, he unlaced his worn out boots and placed them to the side before taking Arya by the hand and leading her to the side room, steam filled the air. She understood his intentions and undressed gracefully entering the basin and sinking into the hot water. He turned to leave.
"You will not join me?" it was a simple question. Eragon turned to find her washing out her hair, her eyes closed. His determination wavered. He did need to wash himself. Undressed, he slid into the water and found his legs tangling with Arya's. Determined to just wash himself, he felt his resolve slip when Arya reach out to place her hands on his back to help him clean his back. When she was done, he turned to her to do the same. Letting his hands run over her shoulders and back, he rubbed her aching muscles.
"How are you feeling?" asked Eragon focused on easing the tension in her muscles just as she thought him a few weeks earlier.
"Better," said Arya softly she made a soft sound that rose out from her throat and left her lips like a sigh. She was silent before she spoke one more, "Wandering fire…it is very fitting for your swords."
"I thought it described me best," said Eragon he paused, "And you."
"Vrangr…yes, it does fit," agreed Arya with a nod. He knew how she felt. Arya oftentimes said that she felt out of place amongst her own people, the very ones she grew up with. She felt like an outside within the Varden and a stranger with the dwarves. She wandered from place to place due to her duty. Just like how he wandered from place to place because of his.
When he was done, she turned to face him. Drawn in with her bright emerald eyes, he drew closer to her until their foreheads touched. "Arya…" she made a sound showing that she heard him. "I said that I would sacrifice for you…but let me protect you instead with the blade that you crafted for me."
"If you ever find the opportunity to do so," she whispered in reply. He smiled softly leaning forward to meet her lips with his. They shared chaste kisses. Later on, dressed in new clothing Eragon glanced down at himself. He wasn't sure who informed the elves that he was in need of new clothes but he found them waiting from him on top of the latch to his tree house as well as new boots. Arya, too, was given new clothes but they looked exactly as her last. He glanced at her as she rested on his bed. He rather her rest before they left to travel to Farthen Dûr for the coronation of the new king, if one was decided yet.
He made his way over to the tall mirror in the corner of his room. He wasn't as bothered by his appearance anymore as the handsome elf man stared out at him. Whispering the spell, he waited to see if it would come through. Perhaps he had wards about him. To Eragon's good fortune, the spell did work and he was faced with Murtagh staring back out at him. "I see you've made it to Ellesmeŕa brother."
Not one for idle chatter, Eragon got straight to the heart of the matter, "How goes the meetings?"
"Badly," Murtagh replied with narrowed eyes. "The clans are in favor of different candidates to become king. There hasn't been any progress towards the better end of the Varden. I'm afraid that we might be in contention with a candidate that does not support the Varden's war efforts."
"Politics are as similar to snakes plotting in the darkness," said Eragon, he glanced at Murtagh. "You've not had trouble since your arrival at Farthen Dûr I take it?"
His brother shook his head, "Nay, however I doubt that shall last. It seems like one of the clans is not overjoyed at my appearance during their meetings. They consider me an outsider."
"It's only natural. You are not a dwarf and Hrothgar was taking his chances when he adopted you into his clan," said Eragon as he folded his arms across his chest. "Has Nasuada been informed of the ongoing events in Farthen Dûr?" Murtagh nodded. "I can only assume that she isn't too pleased with how the dwarves are conducting themselves."
"No she isn't," said Murtagh confirming what he thought.
"We need the dwarves' assistance in order to march on the empire, without them the Varden will be too few in numbers," said Eragon with a frown. He didn't see himself as a military strategists but anyone could see that the Varden was little in numbers when compared to the vast army underneath Galbatorix. They may have the Urgals as their allies but Nasuada would no doubt keep them away from the battlefield and the cities in an effort to prevent dissent from the citizens of the empire who detested the Urgals. They were a narrow minded people thought Eragon. Creatures and races that they knew nothing of scared them and they discriminated against them. His eyes wandered to Arya as she rested on the bed. She may be unearthly beautiful but being an elf would cause her to be on the receiving end of hate from the citizens. He hated to admit it but humans were narrow minded indeed and because of that they were weak. He shook the thoughts from his mind. "No progress is still good news. We need Orik to be voted as king by the other clans. If there seems to be another who is more favorable than Orik, you need to prevent them from voting until I reach Farthen Dûr. I may not be adopted into the Dûrgrimst Ingeitum however I am Nasuada's vassal. As such that should tip the balance of the meeting."
"Orik considers you family," said Murtagh surprising Eragon. "If not by blood than by law."
He had no response to his words but paved on, "If you are not busy Murtagh, I would like to learn about the other clans in Farthen Dûr and their customs. I would like to arrive at Farthen Dûr with enough knowledge so that I do not delay the meetings."
"The meeting this morning was adjourned due to the arguments between the clans," said Murtagh pulling out a seat to sit facing Eragon. "You should sit Eragon, there's much I've to tell you since I've arrived here."
He pulled out a seat to sit and face Murtagh. The two of them conversed at great length with Eragon committing to memory every little detail that was spoken to him. Murtagh had learned much during his stay thought Eragon as they wrapped up the conversation.
"Have you received the rider's blade that you sought after?" asked Murtagh before they said their farewells.
"I have but you shall see more of it when I arrive in Farthen Dûr," said Eragon. Murtagh nodded. The two of them exchanged last words before Eragon released the spell and the mirror returned to normal. He'd expected as much of the dwarves. They were hot headed and as stubborn as the granite halls that they lived refusing to give way to others. Murtagh was trying his best Eragon could tell to elect a leader that could support the Varden but his power was only so much. It was odd, thought Eragon as he sat down on the bed careful not to disrupt Arya. The distance between him and Murtagh was slowly closing but he still found it hard to fully see him as an older brother. Deciding that it was time to rest, he placed is boots to the side and slid next to Arya. She didn't wake but he knew that she was aware of his presence.
The following morning, they flew to say their farewells to Oromis and Glaedr, both who were waiting for them as they alighted on the open space beside his pinewood hut. They greeted their masters. "I see you've returned successful in your endeavors," said Oromis as he took in the blade looped through Eragon's belt loop around his waist and the second blade resting in a strap that was given to him on his back. "I am surprised to see that you have two swords with you."
"Arya requested to forge a second blade for me," said Eragon as he handed Vrangr to Oromis to study. His eyes found the glyph on the scabbard and a expression passed over his face. Eragon didn't understand what it was that he saw but he thought he could sympathize with the emotions passing through Oromis.
"The wandering flame," said Oromis as he returned the swords to Eragon. He nodded. "A description that is very fitting. For what are we but individuals bound to wander the plains of Alagaësia? You are fortunate to wield such impressive blades Eragon."
"That I am," Eragon agreed.
"You found what you needed beneath the Menoa Tree," said Oromis as Eragon returned Vrangr to the strap tied to his back. He nodded. "The entire forest shuddered when the Menoa Tree woke. At first it was thought that you had attacked her. None had thought that she would awaken on her own when she felt your bond. It is petty to say so but she may have been angered by the pure essence of what she could not have. I am glad that you are uninjured Eragon."
She did bury him alive though, added Saphira her sapphire eyes twinkling.
Oromis faintly smiled, "Ah, it is but a mere simulation to mimic the feelings of death. It is not that you should be afraid of the darkness nor the Earth. You need to familiarize yourself with it and detach all importance you had to living. Life does not come without death even for a race such as ours, immortal we may be but death shall one day return our bodies to the ground. When one realizes this, one can fight to their true potential."
A feeling of rebirth comes from being buried alive and you can forge stronger connections from that, said Glaedr his strange mind touching Eragon's. He nodded. Arya, who had been silent all this time, spoke.
"What will you do now Master Oromis?" asked Arya. Oromis stared out at the rising sun in the sky silent. Knowing not to push him, they waited until he decided it was time to explain to them. After a few minutes he answered her question.
"Glaedr and I plan to fly to join Islanzadí at the city of Gil'ead," said Oromis surprising them. Eragon and Arya exchanged glances. Oromis wasn't in any condition to leave his hut and fight. He felt chills run down his spine as he thought of his master fighting Galbatorix face to face.
"You will come out of hiding?" asked Arya looking slightly anxious.
Oromis nodded, "Once Murtagh returns and I've spoken to him, the two of us shall take flight and join the elves at Gil'ead for they plan to lay siege to the city. Gil'ead as you know Eragon is a formidable fortress." Eragon nodded and he could feel a slight change in Arya's emotions at the mention of the city that she was imprisoned and tortured in.
"Your condition…" started Eragon.
Is nothing that you should worry of. We've a century to find ways to circumvent Oromis's disabilities as well as store a tremendous amount of energy into the stone of Naegling. Strength alone does not determine the victor in battle Eragon. You should know for your father has proven on numerous occasions that strength is not the key. Oromis and I are not helpless in battle. Far from it. Also, I do not believe that Galbatorix will ride out into battle to meet us. Not until we are upon the very gates of his black city.
"I apologize," said Eragon as he bowed his head slightly, "I meant no affront."
Oromis's face was kind as he placed a hand on Eragon's shoulder's, "Your concerns are appreciated Eragon. However having met you, I've thought long about my decision to leave the safety of the forest and join in the battle against Galbatorix. You, who came here with half a soul and heart, were bound for madness having left the safety of Galbatorix's dark magic. You were not whole and yet you've returned intact and better than before. I am the Cripple Who Is Whole that I shall not deny. I am not perfect nor the best warrior on the battlefield. However I still have the strength to slay a hundred regular soldiers—even a thousand."
"Before I leave I would like to say one more thing to the both of you however out of bounds it may sound," said Oromis with wise eyes as he gazed upon Eragon and Arya. "Though you may come from different races and backgrounds, the two of you sought the same thing at one point: revenge. Revenge for the life that was stolen from you, revenge for your father," he glanced from Eragon to Arya. "I'm in no position to say this for I've had a century to let go of my own hatred since the slaughter of my brethren at the hands of Galbatorix. I hope that the two of you have realized that fighting for vengeance is not a path to forging a better world outside of the empire."
"I understand master," said Arya staring at him straight in the eye. Oromis turned his eyes to Eragon. It took his much difficulty but he nodded.
His master nodded, "You shall fly to Farthen Dûr from here on out?"
"Yes master," said Eragon, "The clans are in deliberation for a new king—queen if it comes to it—and Nasuada requested that I be there for the process."
"Yes, with the riders present it would leave enough pressure for them to speed up the process," said Oromis with a nod. He glanced upwards at the sky, "You should depart soon Eragon, Arya to catch the head wind and fly southwards towards the mountains." They said their farewells to Oromis and Glaedr, climbing onto their dragons' back. "Fair winds to you all. When next we meet, let it be before the gates of Urû'baen."
They spared one last look at the two of them as the dragons ascended into the sky, gaining height with every powerful beat of their wings. Eragon made sure to remember how Oromis and Glaedr looked like as they watched them leave. They were at peace, a peace which was soon to be disturbed once they join the rest of the elves at Gil'ead. That was right, they were the very first ones to have accepted Eragon amongst the elves. To accept him and Saphira truly. It would be a sad sight to see them dirtied in the blood and filth of war.
Are you worried about them? He heard Arya's voice in his mind, the music of her thoughts flowing through him. He glanced over at Arya and Eridor as they flew beside them. Eridor's thoughts Eragon could tell were tinged with slight sadness at the thought of his masters flying out to battle. But that was the fate of dragon riders. To sacrifice for the greater good. Do not sound so morbid. Oromis and Glaedr understand the consequences of their actions. I do not agree with them joining the fighting but it is their sacrifice to make.
I know, replied Eragon. I just don't agree to the idea of sacrifice and victory as two parts of one whole.
No one does but it is fate, said Arya. Eragon nodded. Even then…
Fitting isn't it? Eragon is the only rider to have been bestowed two swords. I kept the name of the original sword in the book but added a second sword and name which I believe described Eragon's character really well. To me the Eragon that I built is someone that wanders throughout the story and he'll continued wandering until he can find a place called home. A good reflection of his character I believe. Anyways this is it for my A/N. How has everyone been as of late? Enjoying themselves? I saw the recent concert of my favorite group (SNSD). Has anyone been to any concerts as of this summer? It's a fun way to relieve stress. Anyway I hope to see you all very soon!