Sup peeps, how yall been? Notice me excellent street lingo, aren't I an educated gentlemen (insert pompous laugh here).

Seriously now Hello to you all, have you had a nice week, have you had a bad week, do I give flying fuck? All interesting questions, but you're not here to listen to me rant away in fact most of you probably don't even read author notes, I know I don't, and if you are here to listen to me rant... huh? You're an odd one aren't you.

Anyway onwards to the chapter.


Chapter 5: No Weddings and a Funeral.

"Wake, Knurlhiem! You cannot sleep now. We are needed at the gate, they won't start without us."

Eragon's vision was blurry but he could make out Orik, standing on his side, as he moved his head slightly he became instantly aware of the ache and pains throughout his entire body. It took him a few moments to figure out that Orik wasn't stood on a wall but in fact leaning over the rider who was lying down, that was how near sleep he was, and how hung over.

"Ugh!" he groaned as he slowly sat up, wincing as his head stung like no other. Beneath him was a cold stone table, his mattress for the night no doubt "What?" he asked, whilst, at the same time, trying to throw up his own tongue.

Orik tugged on his brown beard and looked about worriedly "Ajihad's precession. We must be present for it!"

"No" he said quietly "What did you call me?" he was still wincing at every sign of light and every noise, and every movement for that matter. They were still in the banquet hall, but it was empty apart from him, Orik and Saphira.

Saphira lifted up her head from where she lay, on her side between two tables, and looked about with bleary eyes.

"Stone head! I called you stone head because I've been trying to wake you for almost an hour."

Eragon sat upright and let his feet gingerly touch the ground "Well it wasn't my idea to drink to oblivion last night was it. That was yours. And it certainly wasn't my idea to give Saphira a barrel of mead... I think" he defended himself, slightly unsure on the matter as his memoires were blurry.

Orik just grumbled.

'Are you alright' he asked Saphira, stumbling in her general direction.

'I... I think so. My left wing feels a bit strange. I think it's the one I landed on. And my head is filled with a thousand hot arrows.'

"Anyone hurt when she fell?" Eragon asked, yawning and stretching as the dizziness, blurriness and generalized nausea started to fade.

Orik chuckled heartily "Only those who dropped of their seats from laughing so hard. A dragon getting drunk and pretending to life a tankard in the air, I'm sure lays will be sung about it for decades."

Saphira shuffled her wings and looked away primly, ever so dignified.

"We thought it best to leave you here, since we couldn't move you, Saphira. It upset the head cook terribly. He feared you would drink more of his best stock than the four barrels you already did."

Eragon burst out laughing, which he quickly regretted as the urge to vomit returned "Four barrels, that's my girl!" he patted Saphira on her neck in praise, ignoring said urge to vomit.

Orik passed a bundle of clothes over to Eragon "Here, put these on. They are more appropriate for a funeral than your own attire" he cast an eye over the bloodied pants and dirty shirt "Definitely more appropriate. But hurry we have little time."

Thankfully most of Eragon's basic functions were still in working order and he could dress himself, though Orik did have to point out that that was a shirt not trousers.

Even so he soon struggled into the clothes, dark pants, a billowy white shirt over which went a red vest decorated with gold braiding and embroidery. A pair of shiny black books that clacked on the floor when he stepped, it took him awhile to fasten them up which Orik punctuated with a tut. And lastly a swirling cape that fastened on a studded brooch beneath his throat and an ornate belt, holding Zar'roc and Durza's sword, finished the ensemble.

Eragon splashed his face with water, rubbing at the skin furiously and ran his fingers through his hair once or twice, which proved even more knotty than he expected as his hand almost got trapped and he considered getting Zar'roc to cut his hand loose. Thankfully Orik was on the scene and yanked his hand from his hair, without mercy or pity one should note.

Then Orik was rushing him towards Tronjheim's south gate, with surprising speed for his stocky legs "We must start from there" he said as they hurried along, Orik even forcing Eragon to move quicker than usual "Because that is where the procession with Ajihad's body stopped three days ago. His journey to the grave cannot be interrupted, or else his spirit will find no rest."

'An odd custom.'

Eragon nodded, both in acceptance of what Orik had said and in agreement with Saphira. In Carvahall there was no such tradition, people were generally buried on their farm, although there was a small graveyard in town, and the only ritual that accompanied it was the reading of certain ballads and a death feast held afterwards.

Though in truth, he just didn't care. All this burial nonsense was only important to the people left behind, Eragon could piss of his corpse then burn his body and Ajihad wouldn't care because he was dead. The best way to honour him now was to fulfil the goals he had in life.

'Can you make it through the funeral?' he asked Saphira, placing a hand on her flank as she stumbled again, she felt strength radiate from him and into her.

'That and Nasuada's appointment, but then I'll need to sleep. A pox on all mead!'

'You liked it before' "Where will Ajihad be buried?" he asked, returning to his conversation with Orik.

Orik slowed and glanced at Eragon cautiously "That has been matter of contention among the clans" he said slowly, then fiddled with his hand before continuing "You see when a dwarf dies we believe he must be sealed in stone or else he will never join his ancestors... It is complex and I cannot say more to an outsider... but we go to great lengths to assure such a burial. Shame falls on a family or clan if they allow any of their own to lie in a lesser element."

Eragon nodded, once again in acceptance, once again barely caring.

"Under Farthen Dur exists a chamber that is the home of all knurlan, all dwarves, who have died here. It is there Ajihad will be taken. He cannot be entombed with us, as he is human, but a hallow alcove has been set aside for him. There the Varden may visit him without disturbing our sacred grottos, and Ajihad will receive the respect he is due."

"Your king has done much for the Varden" commented Eragon.

"Some think too much."

"Do you?"

Eragon's question got Orik to freeze, stopping completely "It is not my place to say what he should and should not do" Orik said, a diplomatic tone in his voice "But I know he only does what he believes is right. What he believes is most honourable."

He nodded "Fair enough."

Eragon stood by Ajihad's tomb, staring down at his lifeless face. It was calm and peaceful, more so than Eragon had ever seen it in life.

Pain reared up in his mind, anguish and sorrow that craved to be let loose.

"All must return to the earth, whence we came" he said quietly, but loud enough for those close to hear him, not that Eragon was trying to be quiet or have people hear "Some go before their time, some live long and wholesome lives. But you may rest easy. I will see your dreams fulfilled, even if I must do it by myself. The Empire will be overthrown, the Varden will remain strong and Nasuada will lead your men to greatness and victory, and all because of what you laid down for us, the path you set us on."

He gazed down past the face, over his armoured chest, along his shield covered sword and down to his feet before returning the cold and pale face.

"I will remember you" Eragon let himself smile solemnly and spoke quieter now, so that only he could hear "The man who commanded me."

Eragon had said nothing else throughout the funeral, not even speaking to Saphira, content to be alone with his grief. To him this was just as much Murtagh's funeral as it was Ajihad's. In fact it was even more than that. This was the funeral of all who had died during the battle, all those warriors, strong, brave warriors, who had faced the bloody slaughter and been destroyed by it. Those who hadn't or couldn't raise their heads above the crimson wave of battle and drowned.

When all had paid their respects Nasuada touched her father's hand and bowed over him, holding it with gentle urgency. Uttering a pain groan she began to sing in a strange wailing language, filing the cavern with her lamentations.

Then came twelve dwarves, in their hands was borne a great slab of marble. They slid the stone over Ajihad's upturned face, leaving only stone in their wake.

Eragon's fingers clenched into a fist.

He slumped down, his feet welcoming the rest, on the lowest tier of the amphitheatre. He yawned and stretched his arms, looking completely relaxed.

Orik shot him a mildly amused glance, still sobered by the funeral, but other than that no one commented.

People were still piling into the underground amphitheatre, a spacious arena that echoed with the babble of voices as people discussed the funeral that had just ended.

Sat on the same tier as Eragon was Orik, Hrothgar, Arya, Nasuada and the Council of Elders.

"Ever since Korgan, each of our kings has been chosen here" said Orik, leaning close even though he was sat right next to Eragon's "It's fitting that the Varden should do likewise."

'We are about to make powerful enemies' said Saphira, ever the voice of reason, from where she stood on the row of stairs that cut upwards through all tiers.

'Out of a bunch of dumb old fucks' was Eragon's witty response 'they can't match us Saphira, remember what Nasuada said, remember my strength, and remember the fact that we have you.'

The praise pleased her and she agreed with him, but worry still flittered through her thoughts.

Eragon himself was shielding most of his thoughts from Saphira, and she understood why. The funeral had left him shaken, weak even, and Eragon hated feeling weak, even with the person who loved and cherished him above all else, even her own life.

It didn't take long for the amphitheatre to fill, based on it size, once it had filled Jormundur stepped up to the podium.

"People of the Varden, we last stood here fifteen years ago, at Deynor's death. His successor, Ajihad, did more to oppose the Empire and Galbatorix than any before. He won countless battles against superior forces. He nearly killed Durza, putting a scratch on the Shade's blade" he looked down to Eragon, more specifically the sword at his waist. Eragon wrapped his fingers around the hilt and grinned.

"And greatest of all" Jormundur moved his gaze "he welcomed Rider Eragon and Saphira into Tronjheim. However, a new leader must be chosen, one who will win us even more glory."

"Shadeslayer" someone high up called.

Eragon snorted and leant his chin on his palm.

To Jormundur's credit he didn't even blink "Perhaps in years to come, but he has others duties and responsibilities now. No, the Council of Elders has thought long on this. We need one who understands our needs and wants, one who has lived and suffered alongside us. One who refused to flee, even when battle was imminent."

Realisation swept through the crowd and mutters of her name could be heard, even before Jormundur spoke it "Nasuada" he stepped aside with a bow.

'I don't get it' Eragon said frowning.

Saphira sighed 'Nasuada fought amongst the archers instead of leaving with the women and children, didn't I tell you?'

'No... well you might have done, but I've forgotten.'

Next was Arya, she surveyed the audience then said "The elves honour Ajihad tonight... And on behalf of Queen Islanzadi, I recognise Nasuada's ascension and offer her the same support and friendship we extended to her fathers. May the stars watch over her."

Hrothgar took to the podium now and stated gruffly "I too support Nasuada, as do the clans."

And then it was Eragon's turn, he didn't even spare the crowd a glance before speaking "I support to Nasuada" he said with no small amount of boredom. He let Saphira growl out her own admission of support and then stepped down.

Pledges spoken the council lined themselves on either side of the podium, with Jormundur at their head.

Nasuada approached, bearing herself with pride, and knelt before him, her dress splayed in raven billows.

"By the right of inheritance and succession, we have chosen Nasuada. By merit of her father's achievement and the blessings of her peers, we have chosen Nasuada. I know ask you, have we chosen well?"

A unanimous 'Yes!' roared from the gathered crowd, resounding throughout the room.

Jormundur nodded "Then by the power granted to this council, we pass the privileges and responsibilities accorded to Ajihad to his only descendent, Nasuada" he gently placed a circlet of silver on her brow, then, taking her hand, lifted her upright and pronounced "I give you our leader!"

Ten whole minutes passed, with the Varden and dwarves cheering, thundering their approval of Nasuada, until the hall rang with the clamour.

Only as their cries faded did Sabrae motion to Eragon, whispering "Now is the time to fulfil your promise."

Eragon focused his crimson glare onto her face, making her flinch. Behind her the council stood, urging him on with looks.

As he took the first few steps, their nervousness faded, replaced by smugness, half smiles and, in Sabrae's case, outright disdain, behind them stood Arya. She nodded to him in silent support.

But Eragon needed no support and continued to walk, focusing his gaze on Nasuada and keeping it there and solely there.

The whole hall silenced as he approached.

'With this we're going o throw ourselves off of a cliff Saphira, and you know something, I don't think I care how long the drop is.'

'That's my Rider' she said.

'This is going to be one fun flight.'

He approached the pair, and seemed to look at both of them, himself in between both Jormundur and Nasuada, before he faced Nasuada solely.

He reached out with his arm, offering it to her "I bow to no one" he said to her, speaking loud to ensure the whole hall could hear "Not men, dwarves or elves, no one. So this will have to do" he said, reflecting his words from before.

She nodded and took his forearm, their fingers wrapping around each other's arms, gripping tightly. It occurred to Eragon, for some reason at that exact moment, that whilst his fingers wrapped completely around her forearm, her smaller hands didn't quite join around his leaving a small patch of bare skin in between her fingers and thumb.

"Nasuada, Leader of the Varden, Daughter of Ajihad, I give you my loyalty, it is yours to do with as you will" it was apparently over, but Nasuada remained in the grip, knowing what came next and being prepared for it.

Her shields, the mental walls that surrounded her mind and protected her from intrusion, were ripped apart as easily as one could tear apart a freshly plucked leaf, but she refused to flinch, ad a voice spoke, booming and horrifying within her mind, just like before.

'For now.'

With that he stepped back, the moment ended.

The council glared at him with enraged impotence, an immediate change from smugness. Only Jormundur managed to restrain his own shock to but a bat of the eyelids.

"I accept this gift, the responsibilities it brings, and the great honour you have bestowed upon me. Thank you" he gave her a casual and relaxed upwards nod.

The crowd cheered, shouts of approval, warriors banging on their shield, dwarves stamping their feet, all in jubilation.

Eragon sat back down, noticing Hrothgar's pensive look, Arya's controlled face, and Orik's wide eyes.

Nasuada gripped the sides of the podium and gazed up at the people, her people. She beamed at them, her face an expression of joy "People of the Varden!"

Silence came quickly for the new leader, only the echoes had yet to vanish.

"As my father did before me, I give my life to you and our cause. I will never cease fighting until Galbatorix is dead, until Alagaesia is free once more, until justice and peace prevail."

More cheering and applause, fading again when she spoke again.

"Therefore, I say to you, now is the time to prepare. Here in Farthen Dur, after endless skirmishes, we have won our greatest battle. It is our turn to strike back. Galbatorix is weak after losing so many forces, and there will never again be such an opportunity."

"Therefore, I say again, now is the time to prepare so that we may once more stand victorious!"

Several long, boring, and tedious speeches followed and Eragon really wanted to sleep, it was so very, very, very boring. But even so he waited for the amphitheatre to empty significantly before making to leave, not wanting to get caught up in the rush.

He stood, but a hand grasped his arm, stopping him.

Eragon turned to look, half prepared to cut the head off of whoever it was, but made no move to actually do so.

Which was probably a good thing as it was only Orik, he probably would have missed the dwarves head anyway, at best he might've clipped his helm "Eragon, did you plan all that beforehand?"

Eragon chuckled and knelt down to look at the dwarf on a level field "Orik, do I look like the type of person who would jump off a cliff without planning to?"

Orik didn't even need to consider it "Yes."

The Rider scowled "Alright fine, so I would. But not this time" he patted the dwarf on the head, and stood tall.

Orik exhaled, shaking his head "It was a bold move. You've given Nasuada a strong position to being with. It was dangerous though, if the Council of Elder's reactions are anything to judge by."

"I'm not afraid of the 'Council of Elders'" he gave them quotation marks with his fingers.

Orik looked him up and down once, then met the rider's confident gaze and couldn't help but break out into a grin "True. Did Arya approve of this?"

"She agreed it was necessary... which is the polite way of saying, not really no."

Orik shook his head again, chuckling this time "You have altered the balance of power, Eragon. No one will underestimate you again because of it... Beware the rotten stone. You have earned something powerful enemies today."

"Good thing I'm more powerful" he called to the dwarf as he walked away, Orik chuckled.

'We should leave soon, then council will be thirsty for revenge, and if they take it I may be unable to resist the urge to crush them.'

'If they even try, Saphira, you'll have to get in line, because I'm crushing them first."

Returning to his room that evening, the formal clothing clenched beneath his arm and his hair still wet from his bath, Eragon found a tall, dark haired woman stood in the hall waiting for him.

"Argetlam" she curtsied gracefully, Eragon's attention was drawn the glinting gold bracelet on her wrist, that was shaped like a hissing serpent.

He surveyed her for several seconds, remaining silent. His red eyes met her blue.

"I am Trianna, sorceress of Du Vrangr Gata."

Eragon blinked "A sorceress, huh? Interesting" his thoughts were inevitably pulled to Durza, or rather Carsaib and his master, Haeg, they too had been sorcerers, but Eragon knew little of the actual practise save what Angela had told him, Brom hadn't even mentioned it.

"And battle mage and spy and anything else the Varden deems necessary. There aren't enough magic users, so we each end up with a half dozen tasks" she smiled beautifully with her wry mouth, showing off her even white teeth. Eragon, however, was busy thinking of everything else she could do with that wry mouth.

"That's why I came today" she continued "We would be honoured to have you take charge of our group. You're the only one who can replace the twins."

She was friendly and charming and he hated to say no but... actually he didn't, he didn't give a crap and definitely didn't want to get involved in more politics.

"Not interested, sorry. I'm leaving Tronjheim and the Varden soon anyways, and besides, I'd have to consult Nasuada beforehand" 'and I really don't feel like cleaning up the twins mess.'

She bit her lip, in a way that made him want to bite it too, and looked up at him with her startling blue eyes "I'm sorry to hear that" she moved a step closer "Perhaps we can spend some time together, before you have to go. I could show you how to summon and control spirits... It would be educational for both of us."

He was reminded distastefully of the twin and how they had tried to needle words of power from him and his expression turned cold "I appreciate the offer, but at the moment I'm too busy."

There was a spark of anger that lighted in her blue eyes, but it faded so quickly that he had to wonder if it had been there at all.

"I understand" she sounded so disappointed, and looked so forlorn that Eragon felt guilty for rebuffing the offer, she might not have had that intention at all. Actually fuck it she definitely had had that intention but damn it was she hot, seriously if the twins had been this hot, and women obviously, he would have joined the Du Vrangr Gata in a heartbeat.

"How did you learn magic?" he asked "I only learned after becoming a Rider, and I'm curious as to how others learn."

Trianna brightened up considerably at his interest "My mother was a healer in Surda. She had a bit of power and was able to instruct me in the old way. Of course, I'm nowhere near as powerful as Rider. None of Du Vrangr Gata could have defeated Durza alone, like you did. That was a heroic deed."

Durza's name sent painful shivers down his spine "I wasn't alone, there was an elf and a dragen there" he reminded her.

"You are too modest, Argetlam" she admonished "It was you who struck the final blow. You should be proud of your accomplishment. It's a feat worthy of Vrael himself" she leaned towards him.

At this distance he could smell her perfume, rich and musky, with a hint of an exotic spice "Have you heard the songs composed about you? The Varden sing them every night around their fires. They say you've come to take the throne from Galbatorix."

"No" he said sharply. That was one rumour he wanted crushed "I'm not going to take Galbatorix's throne and never will. I'm going to kill him, I don't want to rule."

"And it's wise of you not to. What is a king, after all, but a man imprisoned by his duties? That would be poor reward indeed for the last free Rider and his dragon. No, for you the ability to go and do what you will and, by extension, to shape the future of Alagaesia."

She paused, Eragon wondered if her previous sentence made sense, and then ignored it, instead letting his eyes trail down her body then up again, when he reached her face she met his eyes, a small smile on her face as she noticed his appraisal.

"Do you have any family left in the empire?" she asked after a moment.

"Only a cousin?" 'And he might be dead... but why is she asking that?'

"Then you're not betrothed?"

Realisation swept through him and he grinned "No."

"Surely there must be someone you care about?" she came another step closer, her sleeve brushed against his arm.

"I wasn't close to anyone in Carvahall, I've been travelling since then" he said calmly, meeting her eyes steadily.

Trianna drew back slightly and lifted her wrist so that the serpentine bracelet resting there was a t eye level "Do you like him?"

He gazed at the serpent a second and shrugged.

"I call him Lorga. He's my familiar and protector" bending forwards she blew upon the bracelet and muttered "Se orum thornessa havr sharjalvi lifs."

With a dry rustle the snake stirred to life.

With no small amount of fascination Eragon watched as the creature writhed around Trianna's pale arm and lifted itself and fixed a whirling ruby eye on him, its wire tongue whipping in and out.

"Impressive" he said, turning his gaze away from the snake.

A short command and the snake stiffened and reassumed its former position. With a tired sigh Trianna leaned against the wall "Not many people understand what we magic users do. But I wanted you to know that there are others like you, and we will help if we can."

Eragon smiled calmly and leaned towards her, pinning her between him and the wall. He placed his index finger on her jaw, just below her ear, and trailed his fingers along it, Trianna shivered as he did so, when his finger came to the tip of her chin he pulled away, taking a full step back.

"You know, there's a kitchen not far from here, if you want we could go there and eat. Or..." he smiled softly, seductively "If you want we could find an abandoned room and do something else entirely."

She smiled, a beautiful smile, all her white teeth on display "I'd like that" her hand entwined with his where it rested against his leg. Her hand was smooth and cool, unlike the rough and often sweaty grips Eragon was accustomed to "Shall we..."

The door burst open behind them, causing Trianna to stumbled and whirl around, only to yelp as she found herself face to face with Saphira.

The dragon remained utterly motionless, except for one lip that slowly lifted revealing a line of ivory white jagged teeth.

Then she growled a wonderful, beautiful, glorious growl, richly layered with scorn and menace and filled with a deep hate and will to cause pain, it echoed up and down the hall for more than a minute.

Listening to it was like enduring a blistering, hackle raising tirade.

All the while Eragon had his gaze anywhere but Saphira.

When it was over, Trianna curtsied to Saphira, with her dress clenched in both hands, the fabric twisted, then, with her face white and scared, fled the room.

'It was nearly impossible to get the door open' she sniffed, as if nothing had happened.

'Why did you do that?' he asked flatly, his tone as cold as the Beor peaks.

'You needed my help' Saphira starting licking her claw, unperturbed by his anger.

"If I needed help, I would have called" his tone remained flat and cold, even out loud.

Saphira flinched, the fact that he was so angry he refused to speak to her with his mind not lost on her 'I'll not have you running around with some slattern who cares more for Eragon as Rider than you as a person' she lost her temper first, her thoughts clouding in anger.

"What make you think you have any right to decide who I 'run around with'?" he had yet to raise his tone, or even sound remotely emotional.

Saphira growled at this, wanting him to be angry with her, so that she knew she wasn't the only one in a foul mood 'We are intimately linked. If you pursue a relationship, with or without my blessing and become... attached to some, my feelings will become engaged. Therefore, and I warn you only once, be careful who you choose, because it will involve both of us.'

Eragon laughed, that's all, he laughed, he just laughed, he laughed so hard that had to grip his stomach in pain.

Then he stopped and looked up at her, his crimson eyes damn near insane with rage "YOU DON'T DECIDE WHAT I DO!" Saphira wished he wasn't angry now, his tone was powerful and frightening, enough to scare her, and she wasn't one who scared easily, or rather at all "NO ONE DECIDES WHAT I DO! YOU HAD NO RIGHT TO INTERFERE AND..." he stopped and took a deep breath, a single calming breath "and you don't even admit you were just jealous" his voice was no longer full of rage, but low and croaky.

Saphira growled at him, baring her ivory fangs at her own rider 'I was not jealous.'

He didn't even look at her "Fuck you, Saphira."

He whispered a word to bring Zar'roc into his palm and dropped his formal wear there in the hall, unwilling to spend more time in her presence then necessary, and stormed away, leaving her alone.

For hours he wandered Farthen Dur, seeking no company other than his own and avoiding contact with all. Any who approached were treated to a long hard crimson glare and they soon left, and that was the few that dared to do so, as the aura around just seemed to scream 'FUCK OFF!' and most people did.

Eragon had spent much of his time in the abandoned sections high in Tronjheim, where none dwelled save dust. He had also spent over an hour walking slowly up the Vol Turin, from top to bottom, absorbed in his thoughts, his anger and his misery.

But now he rested, sitting at the very edge of the dragonhold, where rock would have met gem, and instead rock met air.

One giant hole with a drop down that would surely kill any man, no matter how durable.

He considered doing just that, for the thrill, but in the end he didn't have the will to do something fun, he just felt so... so empty, so agonised, so in pain.

And he shouldn't, he wasn't sure why Saphira had angered him so much just then.

He hated being controlled true, but it was Saphira, despite that, the excuse held little weight currently even now thinking about it made him angry.

Eragon found his finger resting around Zar'roc hilt, slowly he let the sword out of its wine red sheathe and into the open air. He stared it over, looking for any imperfections in the blade.

There were none.

Despite the pounding it had received against Arya, and then against the Urgals, and finally against Durza himself, the blade was still pristine, looking as new and sharp as the day it was made.

He lifted the sword up so that it was before his face, so that the tip pointed towards the ceiling. In the red blade he could see on mad crimson eye, his eye, reflected in the cold metal... and the whispers started again.

'Hahaha... Eragoooon...'


I'll see you next week then, toodles.