Nrrrg… there's nothing edible in my house right now…
Happy Belated Father's Day! I realize it's a few days late, but Happy Father's Day anyway!
I'm taking a several-week-long hiatus for a writing camp. Hopefully I'll be resourceful and find a way on here. Fingers crossed!
And I just want to whack Eragon on the head SO MANY TIMES in this section… ¬_¬ …such an idiot… such an idiot…
AnonFanboy: (reply to your review of chapter 57) …you actually just gave me an early Christmas present. I'm not kidding. Thank you very, very much, I always love seeing reviews that prove my hidden talents at writing emotional scenes. XD
AnonFanboy: (reply to your review of chapter 58) Haha, no problem. XD I am sarcasm incarnate, according to my family and friends, so you'll be seeing a lot of that in my stories, now and in the future. And sorry about the shortness; been busy… really busy… and annoyed at my mother… urrrrgh.
Although it seemed highly unlikely that anything would happen to Eragon while he was at Tarnag, almost unconsciously Tania made the decision that she was his overprotective third shadow (his second being Saphira). A dawnless, chilled morning found them in Ûndin's main hall. The clan chief himself was speaking with Orik in quiet Dwarvish, though they broke off as Ûndin noticed their approach, greeting them with, "Ah, Shadeslayer, Lady Tania. I trust you slept well?"
"Yes," Eragon answered.
"And I have already said that I am no highborn," Tania told him, though she smiled. She liked the dwarf.
"But you are friends with many important people, and you carry yourself in such a way that you seem more sure of yourself than any king," Ûndin pointed out, smiling in return, before gesturing to Orik. "We have been considering your departure. I had hoped you'd be able to spend more time with us. However, under the circumstances, it seems it would be best if you resumed your journey early tomorrow morning, when there are few in the streets who would trouble you. Supplies and transportation are being readied even as I speak. It was Hrothgar's orders that guards should accompany you as far as Ceris. I have increased their number from four to seven."
"And in the meantime?" Eragon queried.
Ûndin shrugged his fur-bound shoulders. "I had intended to show you the wonders of Tarnag, but it would be foolish now for you to wander mine city. However, Grimstborith Gannel has invited you both to Celbedeil for the day. Accept if you wish. You'll be safe with him." The clan chief spoke as if he'd forgotten his earlier conviction that Az Swelden rak Anhûin would not harm a guest.
"Thank you, we might at that." As they left, Eragon pulled Orik aside and asked, "How serious is this feud, really? I need to know the truth."
The truth is sometimes the most painful knife you can wield, Tania thought, but didn't interrupt as Orik answered with obvious reluctance: "In the past, it was not uncommon for blood feuds to endure for generations. Entire families were driven extinct because of them. It was rash of Az Swelden rak Anhûin to invoke the old ways; such a thing has not been done since the last of the clan wars… Until they rescind their oath, you must guard against their treachery, whether it be for a year or a century. I am sorry that your friendship with Hrothgar as brought this upon you, Eragon. But you are not alone. Dûrgrimst Ingeitum stands with you in this."
Being told that Eragon would be safe within Celbedeil was quite another thing from knowing it. However, once inside, Tania did not regret tagging along.
The outside of Celbedeil was like walking into a forest. The spacious grounds were covered with a large swath of vivid green grass, and dew still glittered on the pointed leaves of ivy masses that struggled to climb the walls. The air around them, saturated with the mixed perfumes of incense and flowers, smelled like one of Tania's mother's honey pastries; a memory she hadn't had in years that made her heart ache. It was practically silent beneath the great white dome ribbed with gold, despite priests strolling the tiled pathways and grassy grounds. The only sound that Tania could really hear was the thump of a rook's black wings overhead.
Their dwarf guide beckoned them on, striding down the main avenue toward Celbedeil. Tania noticed Eragon staring in open-mouthed awe, and really, she couldn't blame him. Passing under the eaves of Celbedeil, they saw walls decorated with gems of every possible color and cut, every single one flawless, and red gold had been inlaid into the veins lacerating the ceilings, walls and floor, turning the building into a living creature with marble flesh and metal blood. Pearls and silver added a special gleam to the whole thing, and they would sometimes pass partitions carved entirely from jade.
There were no cloth decorations; no tapestries, not even canvas paintings. In their stead, a host of statues—many depicting monsters and deities locked in epic battles—were scattered throughout the temple like a crowd.
After climbing several floors, they passed through a copper door waxy with verdigris and embossed with intricate, patterned knots into a bare room floored with wood. The walls were bristling with armor and racks of staff-swords similar to the one Tania had seen in the corner of Angela's apartments in Farthen Dûr.
Gannel was there, sparing with three younger dwarves. The clan chief's robe was rucked up over his thighs so that he could move freely, his face a fierce scowl as the wood shaft spun in his hands, unsharpened blades darting like enraged wasps.
Two dwarves lunged at Gannel, only to be stymied in a clatter of wood and metal as he spun past them, whacking their knees and heads and sending them to the floor. Tania watched in amusement as Gannel disarmed his last opponent in a brilliant flurry of blows.
At last the clan chief noticed the Riders and dismissed the other dwarves. As Gannel set his weapon on a rack, Eragon commented, "Are all Quan so proficient with a blade? It seems an odd skill for priests."
And being able to skin a deer is deemed an odd skill for women, Tania pointed out sourly.
Gannel faced them. "We must be able to defend ourselves, no? Many enemies stalk this land."
Such as hunger, Tania added. Especially in the winter.
Ignoring her, Eragon nodded. "Those are unique blades. I've never seen their like, except for one an herbalist used in the battle of Farthen Dûr."
As the dwarf sucked in his breath and let it out with a hiss, Tania could only give her companion a deadpan stare, berating him—in her own head, this time—with many choice words. "Angela." Gannel's expression soured. "She won her staff from a priest in a game of riddles. It was a nasty trick, as we are the only ones allowed to use hûthvírn. She and Arya…" He shrugged and went to a small table, filling two mugs with ale. He smiled kindly at Tania. "My apologies, but I'm afraid the words I have now are for Shadeslayer alone. As he has accepted Hrothgar's offer to become Ingeitum, I was to acquaint him with dwarf traditions—"
"—that are not privy to those not adopted into dwarf family," Tania finished his sentence for him, smiling. "If Eragon is safe here, I'll be fine to check up on Saphira. Just make sure he doesn't get into too much trouble," she added.
Gannel laughed. "That I will, never fear."
And with that, Tania left, hoping she wouldn't regret it.
I'm still mentally facedesking because coral. CORAL. Dang it, dwarves, why did you get coral into his head… ugh…
I kind of stand with Arya on religious matters, if you haven't noticed. (Meaning: I do not follow a particular religion (save for maybe Druidism) but I do not hate them all and loudly declare them all as lies and folly—I just choose not to worship this god or that or go to church every Sunday. So don't get all worked up about it and declare me damned to hell as a non-believer, because I'll just shrug and say, "We'll see.")
Fate