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Bryony Lynn: You're welcome, and thanks :D
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Ahem. Anyways, Tania is… *flips through her file* Five-foot-two, with black hair that reaches her shoulderblades, which she usually keeps in a braid or something, green eyes (and I mean green as in a light, limey-olive green, not Arya's emerald green), tanned skin, and she usually dresses in long sleeves, pants, boots, and a belt. My favorite version of her is when she's wearing a dark green tunic with long sleeves and a high collar, dark brown leggings, just-below-knee-height boots, half-finger gloves, her bow and quiver slung over her back, and her dagger on her left hip. But that's usually when she's in Ellesméra. At the moment, she's got a rough woolen tunic the color of wet sand, belted at the waist, and darker brown woolen leggings. Her boots are of a soft hide, and she's got half-finger leather gloves. Also, her hair, messy as it is, is braided down her right shoulder, and it is MESSY. Really messy. Almost dreadlocks. But not quite. Still curable… if she works hard and doesn't mind a numb scalp… hehe. Oh, and her bangs, which aren't quite long enough to be secured in the braid, like to hang over her eyes in spikes. They're about long enough to brush her nose.
Hope that cleared things up a bit! XD
Aaand… cue Can't Take Me by Bryan Adams! (a loop, if you please, this chapter is quite long)
Nearing the city-mountain, Tania could see that the white marble of Tronjheim was highly polished and shaped into flowing contours, as if it had been poured into place. It was dotted with countless windows framed by elaborate carvings. A colored lantern hung in each window, casting a soft glow on the surrounding rock. No turrets or smokestacks were visible. Directly ahead, two thirty-foot-high griffins guarded a massive timber gate—recessed twenty yards into the base of Tronjheim—which was shadowed by thick trusses that supported an arched vault far overhead.
When they reached Tronjheim's base, Saphira paused to see if the bald man had any instructions. When none were forthcoming, she continued to the gate. The walls were lined with fluted pillars of blood-red jasper. Between the pillars hulked statues of outlandish creatures, captured forever by the sculptor's chisel.
The heavy gate rumbled open before them as hidden chains slowly raised the mammoth beams. A four-story-high passageway extended straight toward the center of Tronjheim. The top three levels were pierced by rows of archways that revealed gray tunnels curving off into the distance. Clumps of people filled the arches, eagerly watching Eragon and Saphira. On ground level, however, the arhcways were barred by stout doors. Rich tapestries hung between the different levels, embroidered with heroic figures and tumultuous battle scenes.
A cheer rang in their ears as Saphira stepped into the hall and paced down it. Tania's eyebrows shot up amusedly as Eragon raised his hand, eliciting another roar from the throng, though many of the dwarves did not join in the welcoming shout.
The mile-long hall ended in an arch flanked by black onyx pillars. Yellow zircons three times the size of a man capped the dark columns, coruscating piercing gold beams along the hall. Saphira stepped through the opening, then stopped and craned back her neck, humming deeply in her chest.
They were in a circular room, perhaps a thousand feet across, that reached up to Tronjheim's peak a mile overhead, narrowing as it rose. The walls were lined with arches—one row for each level of the city-mountain—and the floor was made of polished carnelian, upon which was etched a hammer girdled by twelve silver pentacles.
The room was a nexus for four hallways—including the one they had just exited—that divided Tronjheim into quarters. The halls were identical except for the one across the room. To the right and left of that hall were tall arches that opened to descending stairs, which mirrored each other as they curved underground.
The ceiling was capped by a beautiful dawn-red sapphire of monstrous size. The jewel was twenty yards across and nearly as thick. It's face had been carved to resemble a rose in full bloom, and so skilled was the craftsmanship, the flower almost seemed to be real. A wide belt of lanterns wrapped around the edge of the sapphire, which cast striated bands of blushing light over everything below. The flashing rays of the star within the gem made it appear as if a giant eye gazed down at them.
Tania's breath was hard to catch at the sight. Nothing she had ever known was close enough to compare to this. Tronjheim wasn't just a city; it was a monument—a symbol of the dwarves' power, perseverance, and skill.
The bald man walked in front of Saphira and said, "You must go on foot from here." There was a scattered booing from the crowd as he spoke. A dwarf took Cadoc, Tornac and Snowfire away—Tania noticed Murtagh gaze after his mount worriedly—as Eragon dismounted Saphira but stayed by her side. Tania moved up to Murtagh's shoulder as the bald man led them across the carnelian floor to the right-hand hallway.
They followed it for several hundred feet, then entered a smaller corridor. Their guards remained despite the cramped space. After four sharp turns, they came to a massive cedar door, stained black with age. The bald man pulled it open and conducted everyone but the guards inside.
They entered an elegant, two-story study paneled with rows of cedar bookshelves. A wrought-iron staircase wound up to a small balcony with two chairs and a reading table. White lanterns hung along the walls and ceiling so a book could be read anywhere in the room—and no intruder would be able to hide in the shadows, Tania realized. The stone floor was covered by an intricate oval rug. At the far end of the room, a man stood behind a large walnut desk.
His skin gleamed the color of oiled 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 brow. His shoulders were broad and powerful, emphasized by a tapered red vest embroidered with gold thread and clasped over a rich purple shirt. He bore himself with great dignity, exuding an intense, commanding air.
When he spoke, his voice was strong, confident: "Welcome to Tronjheim, Eragon and Saphira. I am Ajihad. Please, seat yourselves."
Tania warily slipped into an armchair in between the two brothers, admittedly closer to Murtagh, while Saphira settled protectively behind them. Ajihad raised his hand and snapped his fingers. A man stepped out from behind the staircase, and Tania stiffened, shock and suspicion warring each other on her face a moment before she settled into a neutral, unemotional expression. He was identical to the bald man beside him. Eragon stared at the two of them with surprise, and Murtagh stiffened. "Your confusion is understandable; they are twin brothers." said Ajihad with a small smile. "I would tell you their names, but they have none."
Saphira hissed with distaste. Ajihad watched her for a moment, then sat in a high-backed chair behind the desk. The Twins retreated under the stairs and stood impassively beside one another, though Tania felt their cold eyes watching them. Ajihad pressed his fingers together as he stared at Eragon, Tania and Murtagh. He studied them for a long time with an unwavering gaze.
Tania simply sat, still as death, gazing into those dark, solemn eyes without moving. After what seemed like several minutes, Ajihad lowered his hands and beckoned to the Twins. One of them hurried to his side. Ajihad whispered in his ear. The bald man suddenly paled and shook his head vigorously. Ajihad frowned, then nodded as if something had been confirmed.
He looked at Murtagh. "You have placed me in a difficult position by refusing to be examined. You have been allowed into Farthen Dûr because the Twins have assured me that they can control you and because of your actions on behalf of Eragon and Arya. I understand that there may be things you wish to keep hidden in your mind, but as long as you do, we cannot trust you."
"You wouldn't trust me anyway," said Murtagh defiantly.
Ajihad's face darkened as Murtagh spoke, and his eyes flashed dangerously. "Though it's been twenty and three years since it last broke upon my ear… I know that voice." He stood ominously, chest swelling. "It came from another man, one more beast than human. Get up." The Twins looked alarmed and put their heads together, whispering, as Tania straightened from her seat and placed herself in front of Murtagh.
Ajihad frowned at her. "Do you know who this is?" he demanded.
She gazed back steadily. "A friend whom I judge by his actions, not his father's."
Behind her, she heard Murtagh stand, before he put a hand on her shoulder. "Tania, I appreciate the gesture, but this is something not even you can protect me from," he told her softly. She growled lightly, but stepped aside.
Tania, at least sit down! Eragon cried in her mind.
He is my friend, and your brother. Why should I?
I…
As they were conversing, Ajihad had ordered Murtagh to remove his shirt and turn around, showing his scar.
"Murtagh," breathed Ajihad. A grunt of surprise came from the dwarf. Without warning, Ajihad turned on the Twins and thundered, "Did you know of this?"
The Twins bowed their heads. "We discovered his name in Eragon's mind, but we did not suspect that this boy was the son of one as powerful as Morzan. It never occurred—"
"And you didn't tell me?" demanded Ajihad. He raised a hand, forestalling their explanation. "We will discuss it later." He faced Murtagh again. "First, I must untangle this muddle. Do you still refuse to be probed?"
"Yes," said Murtagh sharply, slipping back into his tunic. "I won't let anyone inside my head."
Ajihad leaned on his desk. "There will be unpleasant consequences if you don't. Unless the Twins can certify that you aren't an enemy, we cannot give you credence, despite, and perhaps because of, the assistance you have given Eragon. Without that verification, the people here, human and dwarf alike, will tear you apart if they learn of your presence. I'll be forced to keep you confined at all times—as much for your protection as ours. It will only get worse once the dwarf king, Hrothgar, demands custody of you. Don't force yourself into that situation if you can avoid it."
Murtagh shook his head stubbornly. "No… even if I were to submit, I would still be treated as a leper and an outcast. All I wish is to leave. If you let me do that peacefully, I'll never reveal your location to the Empire."
"What will happen if you are captured and brought before Galbatorix?" demanded Ajihad. "He will extract every secret from your mind, no matter how strong you may be. Even if you could resist him, how can we trust that you won't rejoin him in the future? I cannot take that chance."
"Will you hold me prisoner forever?" Murtagh demanded, straightening.
"No," said Ajihad, "only until you let yourself be examined. If you are found trustworthy, the Twins will remove all knowledge of Farthen Dûr's location from your mind before you leave. We won't risk someone with those memories falling into Galbatorix's hands. What is it to be, Murtagh? Decide quickly or else the path will be chosen for you."
Tania sighed inwardly. Murtagh was too proud to make any other decision. And, frankly, in his position, she would be too.
Finally Murtagh spoke, the words slow and distinct. "My mind is the only sanctuary that has not been stolen from me. Men have tried to breach it before, but I've learned to defend it vigorously, for I am only safe with my innermost thoughts. You have asked for the one thing I cannot give, least of all to these two." He gestured at the Twins. "Do with me what you will, but know this: death will take me before I expose myself to their probing."
Admiration that mirrored Tania's own glinted in Ajihad's eyes. "I'm not surprised by your choice, though I had hope otherwise… Guards!" The cedar door slammed open as warriors rushed in, weapons ready. Ajihad pointed at Murtagh and commanded, "Take him to a windowless room and bar the door securely. Post six men by the entrance allow no one inside until I come to see him. Do not speak to him, either."
Tania swallowed a snarl as the warriors surrounded Murtagh, watching him suspiciously. He glanced back at her, and she let him see her anger in the situation before giving him a nod. A wry smirk flitted across his face as he was led out of the study, shrugging to Eragon as he did.
OH… MY… DRAGONESSES… THIS TOOK SO LONG TO WRITE… UGH… NEVER AGAIN… AND DEFINITELY NOT WITH 'DO YOU WANT TO BUILD A SNOWMAN' PLAYING ON THE RADIO! GRAAAGGGHH! Hurricane is much better. Angstiness galore and all that.
And I seem to have gotten a criticism that Tania is too observant. Let's point out a few things:
A) Tania has lived ten years of her life in the wild. What else would she be if not observant?
B) She doesn't place ultimate trust in strangers. Sure, she trusted Eragon, because he was another Dragon Rider. Plus Ophelia was barely a hatchling, so add in her naïvety and you have the explanation.
My dog is staring at my bedroom door…
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FF