A:N - "Trolling attacks are a sign of weakness". That exact quote (my own) is permanently stamped on my profile (if I have anything to say about it), and it certainly encompasses my personal beliefs. If you troll, and then have the audacity to admit to me in a PM that you're doing it for attention, I'm going to laugh at you and block you, and that is all. Trolls will never upset me, but they can definitely amuse me on occasion. That is all.

Chapter Twenty Four – Reunion

If there was one thing that Brom hated, it was travelling without action. At least he had been able to train Eragon and Harry on the road before, but this was bloody tedious. The Varden had yet to make it out of the mountains, but there was already an influx of panicked messages being relayed to the command centre. People were worried about the road, and wanted reassurances. Personal belongings had been forgotten. Wagons and carts splintered and broke, so moving on was impossible. In the end it was down to wearied soldiers to help the commoners.

Brom himself was propped on Snowfire, and he had leant Cadoc to Jörmundur on a temporary basis. Being a courteous man, he also offered Godric, Harry's horse, to Nasuada, the daughter of Ajihad. That was the other thing irritating him. She was a very capable young woman, but her position demanded reports to high command, and that meant he was forced to hear the irks and grievances.

"And the faith are demanding proper funeral arrangements," Nasuada said with exasperation. "They aren't happy we burned him with the others and moved on."

"Let them be unhappy," Brom grumbled. "We have more important matters to worry about."

Nasuada gave a nod, her dark regal hair tumbling back and forth with the motion. "I told them much the same. He was my father, yet I'm less preoccupied than the more pious citizens of the Varden. It's getting out of hand."

"We appointed you to manage relations between ourselves and the common folk for good reason," Jörmundur said, trotting over from the side. He was paying her a compliment. "I can't think of anyone better suited to hold the role, but you have to show them your firmness. You have your father's steel, and that's why we gave you the position. Not because of his standing."

"I offered a compromise: we would arrange a ceremonial remembrance for every member of the fallen once we reach Ellesméra, my father included."

That was something, Brom knew. He would have been slightly less delicate in that situation. Nasuada had the makings of a fine leader in her own right, though she did merit the need for experience above all else. The Varden certainly wouldn't be handed to a green leader, not when the likes of him and Jörmundur still lived, although the word spreading from Du Vrangr Gata was that Brom was the favourite to take over. They wanted a magician in the hot seat, as if that would help them earn more respect.

Brom snorted just thinking about it. Harry had spent all of an hour with the group on the eve of battle, but even he could see how obnoxious the pack of them truly was. Trianna was an exception, although she obviously still wanted to better her position. While Brom couldn't fault any intelligent person that wish, he knew she would be very dangerous if crossed. He wanted the magicians on his side. Then again, it wasn't exactly a 'contest' at the end of the day. Jörmundur didn't want permanent leadership. He was happy with his role in charge of the army and knew Brom would be much more able to lead; he had said so himself.

But I'm getting too old, Brom realised. If I do take over it won't be permanent. It'll just give me time to start training the boys to take up the mantle one day. They certainly have that in them, if they can gain universal respect. And with exploits like Farthen Dûr under their belt, they can at that.

"I went to check on Murtagh," Nasuada said. "It... was expected of me to see the wounded after they fought so gallantly. I am very sorry for what's happened to him."

"The elves will have a solution," Brom said, knowing full well the chances of reaching Du Weldenvarden before Murtagh died were astronomical. Arya had even offered to take the young man on ahead, but Jörmundur wouldn't hear of it. Protecting the Varden was their top priority, not sacrificing one of the best warriors around for the sake of one life, even if it was Murtagh. If they were attacked on the road it would be an absolute slaughter.

Nasuada looked at him for a few moments, unblinking. "I hope you're right," she said after some time, though Brom knew she had worked out the truth there and then.

"Oh, for... what the blazes is our left flank doing?" Jörmundur demanded, his voice reverberating around the narrow mountain passage. "I'll be right back," he muttered, striding off to where a dozen men had broken ranks to aid with a wagon collision.

"The sooner this is over, the better," Brom said. He wasn't looking forward to when Jörmundur found out about their two Riders leaving, which would inevitably happen soon.

"My lord, what are our plans once we reach the elves?" Nasuada asked suddenly. "We can't expect them to just throw open their gates and welcome us."

"They'll be accommodating once they see Arya," Brom said, trying to sound reassuring. "And if they're not... we'll leave, and remember they turned us away in our time of need. But I pray it doesn't come to that."

Surely Oromis would stop Islanzadí if she tried to refuse us entry.

He hoped.

If identical situations ever occurred in twos, then something remarkably similar was occurring on the other side of the country at that exact moment. Eragon and Harry had gathered every remaining villager, and set off north east, which would take them to the western edge of Du Weldenvarden. From there, they had a tough task in finding the elves, but hopefully someone would find them first. For the nonce, it was tough to remain optimistic, but they were doing their best to keep morale high among the townspeople.

Roran, however, had seen their troubles and decided to pitch in. His efforts proved incredibly efficient. The young man, being named 'Stronghammer' for his fighting prowess in Carvahall, bustled about the ranks of men, women and children, trading food for jokes and ensuring everyone was kept busy enough to not think about what had happened. Several families had lost people in the battle, and Katrina had lost her father. She had shed a few tears after Roran told her the news, but he knew well enough the type of person she was. In public, she would maintain a brave face. In private, she would break down at least once, as he had when Garrow died.

For now, Roran walked hand-in-hand with his beloved, her warmth strengthening his resolve. Even his presence gave comfort to her at the same time, but she couldn't forget. It was a good thing they hadn't let her see the body, or her dreams would be haunted for years to come. Eragon had set it alight with the rest of the dead, and that was that. No time for proper burials.

"How are you holding up?" Eragon asked, walking beside his friend.

"Well enough," Harry said. "I lost my wand, but that's nothing. Wives here have lost husbands and children fathers. That's much worse."

"Does it help thinking like that?" Eragon asked with a grimace.

"It helps me put my unease into perspective," Harry replied.

In truth, Harry was not moping. His weapon, his friend, had been taken, but there were silver linings to be considered. He was learning the Ancient Language, and knew that while it could never replace his own brand of magic, it was a good substitute. He also knew wandless magic was possible, but that would take years of practice to master. If he had years, he resolved to learn.

Actually, Harry was more annoyed with himself than anything else. He had been disarmed so easily, and it just went to show he was still human. He wasn't invincible. The smallest slip-up could be disastrous, and he had learned that on two occasions now. It wouldn't happen again. His pride demanded it.

He wished Aru was there. That would help him not feel distracted. Likewise, Eragon yearned for Saphira's presence, even stronger than Harry did for his own dragon. The longer a Rider lived with his partner, the more they wished to stay together.

Eragon clapped him on the shoulder and went to help Elain, who was struggling heavily with the journey. She was pregnant, and found the road rougher and bumpier than many there. Steeling himself up and taking from his friends' examples, Harry moved to aid those struggling with supplies. Several of the farmers had managed to bring along a few dozen sheep and a handful of cattle, although the vast majority of livestock had been claimed and destroyed by the Empire. Trying to starve a town or city into submission was one of Galbatorix's preferred methods, it transpired.

As he worked, carrying bundles to and fro, Harry thought about the Varden. He knew Galbatorix had enlisted the aid of a mysterious people far to the east, but there was no knowing when their troops would arrive. But on a more personal note, he wondered about Murtagh. Harry's only hope now was to call for Kreacher and hope the house elf didn't kill himself with the effort of apparition, but what if he died on the return journey? Could Harry sacrifice one friend for another? Was he even entitled to make that choice?

He doubted it. Kreacher was sworn to him, but slavery was anathema. The simple truth was that Harry didn't want to lose either one of them, but knew that each was important for different reasons. He hated tried to weigh up the pros and cons of each one, as that idea was asinine and nothing else, but it was inevitable. Murtagh was one of his best friends, but Kreacher could ferry sporadic messages between both worlds if he was able to apparate back to the Wizarding World. That was certainly a big 'if'.

No, Harry would never try to choose a friend over another, or even place more value on one life than a second. He wasn't that person, and swore he never would be. People had value because they were people, not because of the reach of their arm, or the jewels around their neck, or even their worth in a warring scenario. The only certainty was that inaction would result in Murtagh's death. There was no guarantee action itself would cause any.

Harry would have to leave before the day was over, but he first wanted to be sure the refugees would be safe. There was no guarantee of returning any time soon, meaning that Eragon would be on his own for at least a little while. He wasn't worried, for both of them could handle that situation, but it might be something of a challenge nevertheless.

"We'll need to rest soon," Eragon said, returning. He wiped a bead of sweat off his brow. "We've been at it for four hours now, and half of these people are ready to drop off their feet."

Harry nodded. "It's getting harder to see in the dark, as well. Once we've made camp, I need to go."

"Hmm," Eragon acknowledged.

"You aren't happy."

"I'm not unhappy either, if that makes sense. I want to save Murtagh as much as you do, but I think I'll need your help on this trek."

"You won't," Harry said with confidence. "You know where to go as well as I do. And if you ever encounter difficulty, Roran will help."

"Roran isn't a magician," Eragon pointed out.

"There won't be any soldiers in Du Weldenvarden. Just avoid the mountains and it's a straight shot east north east to Ellesméra. Once I get back to the Varden I'll take Saphira and come find you again."

The group walked in silence for another fifteen minutes, before the unanimous decision to stop until daybreak was made. Several of the farmers constructed a makeshift fence to herd the livestock for the night, while Harry and Eragon helped in erecting shelter for the townspeople. After that, Harry decided to rest for a few minutes beside one of the fires that had been hastily lit. He found himself joined by Roran and Katrina, and decided to speak with them for a while. He tried to make sure the conversation steered away from anything serious, as Katrina needed the distraction.

Finally, after half an hour of discussing what the elves would be like, the couple called it a night and went to their shelter for a little sleep. They would need their strength on the road, as would everybody. Harry looked around, seeing that the only people awake were Eragon, Horst and Morn, who had drawn first watch around the camp. Realising that there was no point in delaying any longer, Harry called for Kreacher and then held his breath in nervous anticipation.

After a slight delay, the little house elf appeared with a crack, swaying on his feet. Harry glanced in all directions, alarmed that he might be seen, before grabbing him gently in order to steady his legs. He checked the balm was still secure, before sharing a mutual nod of understanding with Eragon.

"Good luck."

"Keep them safe, Eragon."

"Kreacher, if it won't kill you, take me back to where you were," Harry whispered, and Kreacher nodded, rasping.

They vanished with a second pop, leaving Eragon staring at the soft cloud of smoke which quickly dispersed. He would have to explain his friend's disappearance in the morning, and that probably wouldn't go over well. The townspeople would likely think he had abandoned them again, even though Eragon chose to remain.

But, no matter. Eragon could explain the situation, and sod the lot of them if they didn't accept it. He was sick to death of being distrusted, especially after he had helped save their lives. A little gratitude wouldn't go amiss. He didn't realise it, but that frustration was mostly derived from Saphira's absence, and would most likely continue until they were reunited. He only hoped that would happen soon.

Trying to clear all thoughts from his weary mind, he slowly drifted off to sleep.

Angela was trying to determine the correct mixture of herbs and spices to give the strange creature she had been tasked in helping, when suddenly he disappeared when an audible crack. The fortune teller sighed.

That boy will just never learn. He's not going to let him recover, at this rate.

In the meantime, the fortune teller turned to her only other patient, whom she had refused to give to alternate healers. No one else could have kept the young man alive, despite what they might say. A few minutes later, the creature/Kreacher returned, only Harry was now in tow. Angela was not surprised in the slightest.

"Ah, you're back! Good. Maybe now you can let this poor thing rest in peace!"

Harry winced at her choice of words. They sounded decidedly morbid. At least she was in a joking mood, and- no, scratch that. Was Angela ever not in a mood for jokes? She seemed much more willing to open up around him than some others, in any case. He carefully lifted the heaving Kreacher and set him back into the small cot Angela had prepared. They appeared to be in the back of a relatively comfortable wagon, moving slowly over cobbled ground. It was likely granted to her for helping the most wounded, hence the additional room.

"When did you figure out I'd left?"

"When you left."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm hardly surprised. There, let him rest until he awakens by himself," he said, covering Kreacher in a few blankets. "Eragon is on his own for now, you should know."

"He'll be fine. After you've seen to Murtagh, Jörmundur would like to speak with you near the front. I imagine he has some harsh words. If you're still alive afterwards, I would pay Trianna a visit. You don't show an interest in someone only to abandon them, you know."

"Hey! I didn't abandon her! I've... I've had a lot going on! I'm sure she's been just as busy with the wounded!" Harry protested. In truth, he had partially forgotten about Trianna. He had forgotten almost everything in his haste to rescue Roran and find help for Murtagh, in fairness. He still liked her, but felt guilty for forgetting. In fact, he really liked her, and the more he thought about it...

Angela shrugged her shoulders in a casual manner. "You can make up for it, I'm sure. Just be careful you don't get drafted into wagon repairs. I hear it's a most tedious work."

"Your dry wit never falls on deaf ears when I'm around," Harry muttered.

Angela laughed. "At least you're learning! That's a start. Now, have you something for him?"

Harry nodded and turned his gaze to his friend. The disfigurement caused him to wince. He produced the magically-enhanced balm, and hesitated. Then he handed it to Angela.

"Please. You do this. You've a good idea what to do, and if it doesn't work... I'd rather not..."

Angela nodded in understanding. "Of course. I'll need time to prepare it correctly, but it should be successfully applied within the hour."

"Thank you, Angela."

"Think nothing of it," she smiled.

"Where's Solembum?" Harry asked, frowning as he looked around. The werecat's absence was conspicuous, given his high aptitude for mischief.

"Oh, off spying on the war council, most likely," she replied, supremely unconcerned.

After waiting a few minutes to check Kreacher's vitals a little, a period inevitably marked by trading even more jibes with Angela, Harry decided to search for Brom. He couldn't watch, just in case... just couldn't...

He exited the wagon, finding the column of refugees both long and wide, with thousands clearly in tow. It was pitch black, so he couldn't be sure of the exact size, but it looked as though the entire populace of the Varden was present, so hopefully the evacuation had gone smoothly in the end. It wouldn't do for any stragglers to be left behind.

Surely wouldn't be much longer until the companies were ordered to halt and rest for the night, but they had barely reached the exit of the mountains. And this was just the front. It was more than likely that over half of the Varden was still inside, which was probably the reason they were pushing so hard. No one would want to sleep in a pitch black tunnel, especially not if they suffered from claustrophobia at all.

The hoard did eventually grind to a halt, but only the front ranks. The soldiers began to spread themselves wide and form defensive positions, as well as erect wooden stakes to repel cavalry charges. Meanwhile, the rear ranks continued to pour from the Beor Mountains, until the large crowd was deemed too unstable. When that happened they were split up and lead to designated areas, each under guard, to ensure as much comfort as possible. It was still a very tight fit, but Harry knew it was to be expected until they reached Ellesméra.

He wandered through the ranks for a while, spotting some familiar faces, but not the ones he was hoping for. He ran into Nyos playing dice near the command tent, which was a pleasant surprise. He hadn't seen too much of the older man since the battle had taken place.

"Great to see a friendly face!" the turncoat grinned, jumping to his feet and practically crushing his fingers.

Harry noted that he was garbed in a general's outfit, and let his surprise be shown.

"Ah, that's nothing," Nyos said, scratching his head. "Brom and Jörmundur decided to promote me, for outstanding courage and exemplary fortitude, or some such bollocks. In reality it's because I survived, and most of the higher-ups weren't so lucky."

"Rubbish," Harry waved away. "You led these men to victory after Ajihad fell. Without you a whole lot more would have died. You deserve that promotion, really. Congratulations."

"Maybe," Nyos mused, "or maybe they want to stick two fingers up at the king. Either way, I'm happy to serve."

Harry grinned despite himself. "How about your men?"

"Bunch of sodding bastards!" Nyos shouted, deliberately so they could hear. "But they're my sodding bastards now! Any imperial tries to mess with us, he'll find himself up against the best the Varden has to offer! Am I right, lads?!"

The war cries and shouts of approval answered that question.

"Well, I'll leave you to it," Harry said, chuckling. "I need to find Brom. Any idea...?"

"The red and white pavilion over yonder," Nyos said, pointing in the general direction.

Harry thanked him and took his leave. He was glad the man was adapting to life as a commander in the Varden, and it seemed the soldiers trusted him, which was beneficial, given his position as a turncoat. Things could have been very uncomfortable on another day. That being said, Harry knew he was blotting out the pain regarding his family's disappearance by burying himself in his duties. If they were still alive, he would find them, without question. And if they weren't... well, the king might not be a target, but any soldier he came across would be a dead man walking.

Harry quickly located the command tent, since it was rather distinguished among the smaller ones in the surrounding area. The guards, recognising him, saluted and let him pass. Inside, Brom and Jörmundur were sat around a map, as per usual, whilst Arya stood looming in the background. The trio looked over as he arrived.

"About bloody time!" Jörmundur growled. "Just what in the deepest circle of hell were you thinking?!"

Harry winced. "I make my apologies, and leave it there."

"Leave it there?" Jörmundur asked blankly, with widened eyes. "You disobeyed a direct order, fled the camp and could have gotten yourself captured or killed! If you weren't a Rider I would have you flogged for insubordination!"

"And if wishes were horses then beggars would ride," Harry quipped. "Ifs, buts and wherefores aren't important now. Eragon and I saved over a hundred lives, killed the final Ra'zac and got out... relatively unscathed."

"The Ra'zac is dead?" Brom interrupted, his eyes lighting up. When Harry nodded, he broke into a wide smile. "Excellent work! That's one less pest for us to be wary of! And surely those lives are willing to fight, now that they've seen what the king is capable of?"

Harry nodded. He explained the situation briefly. "He had to stay there in order to lead them to the western side of the forest. I was hoping to take Saphira and go back to help him."

"Out of the question," Jörmundur said flatly. "Saphira is a deterrence for any would-be attackers. Without her we're next to defenceless, and that trip would take several weeks or more, even on dragonback. Then, once you got there, you would have to lead the exiles personally, which would take even longer. No, Eragon is on his own, and we can only hope the damage is limited that way."

Harry wasn't happy about that, but he chose not to argue. A good strategist listened to wise advice, and he knew Jörmundur was right. Saphira couldn't afford to leave the convoy now, and he obviously couldn't ride Arucane back again. He was barely the size of a wolfhound. It looked as though Eragon would have to navigate the woods alone, which posed a potential set of problems. Du Weldenvarden was regarded as mysterious beyond measure, with even more perils than the Spine, and wandering through its depths with a crowd of civilians could lead to trouble.

"When we reach the first Elven outpost on our path I will send word that Eragon is to be found and escorted," Arya promised, to his relief.

"Thank you, my lady," he said with a slight bow.

"We cannot afford to lose him," Arya said, nodding. "Though my mother will not be happy at the risk you have taken."

"Forgive me, but your mother didn't send aid when we required it," Harry said, bristling with slight anger. His opinion of elves, save Arya, had dropped in recent days. "As far as I'm concerned, her unhappiness is low priority concerned with the safety of my loved ones, and Eragon's. That's why we left in the first place. Roran is a brother to him, and Murtagh is a brother-in-arms to us both."

Brom shifted slightly, but Harry failed to notice.

"Thanks to our actions, both can live on," Harry continued, "and that's the end of it. We've won two great victories in a short amount of time, and they were sorely needed after the fall of Surda. Morale has taken a battering, and the king still outnumbers our forces almost ten to one. When his conscription orders go through in earnest, his army will swell."

"Green boys don't win a war, but they do make up numbers in the vanguard," Brom said with evident distaste. "Either we slaughter them on the field and lose men aplenty through attrition, or they're held in reserve for when needed, like cannon fodder. Either way, tens of thousands will die when our next battle is joined."

"What news is there on that front?" Harry asked.

"We've received word from our spies along the Ninor River," Jörmundur said, pointing out several areas on the map. "Reports are varied, but it appears the king is gathering his army along the eastern shore, some leagues from Gil'ead. Hundreds arrive every day."

That was alarming news. Strategically, the eastern side of the river held little interest to those in the Empire, save for a possible foothold in order to attack the Beor Mountains... or the north.

"Surely the elves can hold him off," Harry said with desperation. "He's been held at bay for decades!"

"Yes, but he won't suffer any to live," Brom said with a frown. "The king is gathering his full strength, and only then will he strike. It's risky, because it also gives us time to prepare, but he does hold the element of surprise. Realistically, he can attack at any time, but if he's smart that won't happen for several months. Giving a young boy a sword, a shield and marching him onto the battlefield is a waste of resources. He would die within seconds. As an excellent battle strategist, Galbatorix knows this. He'll order basic training, which will take weeks to implement, and then there'll be a need for huge increases in the number of weapons and siege machines."

"Six months?" Harry guessed.

"At a stretch, but it's most likely. If we're being pessimistic, we can say four to five, just in case he wants to attack sooner. He'll know we understand the situation, and will try to undermine our intelligence at all costs. A pre-emptive strike would accomplish that. He may also send smaller raiding parties to occupy our attention."

"What about forces from the east?" Harry asked quietly.

There was a tense silence.

"That's the wild card at this stage," Jörmundur grumbled unhappily. "Brom has explained the predicament. If the king is as smart as we think, he'll tell the Canderins to back off. He's lost all three eggs, his Shade and the Ra'zac in the space of several months. If they have as many men as we believe, they could swoop through this country like wildfire. Galbatorix won't risk open war with another nation, and he certainly won't bend the knee. He has to know they can't be trusted."

"But... that's being optimistic," Harry said, prompting them to clarify.

Brom gave a solemn nod. "Yes, I'm afraid so. If they're true allies it's just as likely they'll start putting Du Weldenvarden to the torch from the southeast, in order to spread panic. And there's no guarantee the king's word would be enough to convince them of stopping, in any case."

"Damn this!" Harry growled. "We can't fight both of them at once! Even taking on the king is too much at this stage!"

"What would you have us do?" Jörmundur demanded. "Send peace emissaries? If they're allied with the king they would hang our corpses from their gates as an example!"

"Has anyone considered taking their leaders out? That would place doubt in their minds, and with our support a new ruler might back down," Harry mused.

"Impossible," Jörmundur said, shaking his head. "We don't know who they are, where they are, or how to find them. It could take years to undergo such an action."

"Harry, ask about elven wards," Arucane said, suddenly appearing in Harry's mind.

Harry rejoiced at the contact, and found his mind enveloped by that of his friend. The two became whole again, and he felt happier than before. It was a glorified reunion, and Harry would have smiled but for the dire situation. He relayed Arucane's request, not quite knowing why. To his surprise, Arya's eyes widened.

"I know what it is he suggests," she said. "But can it be possible...?"

Harry asked Aru to explain, and when he did, he was every bit as shocked as the elven princess.

"No way," Harry said quietly. "Who could muster the energy for such a task? The elven wards have been intact for centuries, fortified to keep Galbatorix out, but shielding the entire nation from another? To what end?"

"To protect the people," Jörmundur declared.

"Yes, and that's a great prospect," Harry retorted, "but Alagaësia can't stay hidden forever. The world is larger than the Spine to the Beors, and the people need to explore."

"They can explore when there is no danger," Aru cut in, broadcasting his thoughts for all four to hear. "This will not be permanent, but temporary. It will... ensure... yes, ensure the people are safe until they are strong enough to travel without fear."

"You're coming on well," Harry noted.

"Thank you, but please be serious for a moment, Harry. Why should we fight when we cannot win? Even a son-of-the-sky knows not to attack a larger foe. It is folly."

Harry gave him that. "Even so, how do you propose it be done? Where will the energy come from? What type of spell would even be..."

"Harry?" Brom asked, as the young Rider trailed off. He didn't answer for a moment.

"The Fidelius Charm," Harry said, covering his face with his palm. He shook his head in annoyance. "Damn it, what a time to lose my wand."

"You what?!" Brom yelped.

"It doesn't matter!" Harry said quickly, holding his hands up in a placating way. "I wouldn't even know how to cast the spell, and I don't know if it's powerful enough to protect an entire country."

"But, still!"

"Before you go any further, please note that... actually, I can't really think of anything to make it better," Harry admitted sheepishly, not pleased with himself at all. He could see this turning very ugly very fast.

"I should pummel some sense into you," Brom growled. "Be thankful I need you conscious to protect this convoy. Can you repair it?"

"Probably not," Harry said. "I have the halves with me, but I doubt the elves can do anything. Wandless magic is possible, but it'll be tough for me to learn."

"Damn it!" Jörmundur roared, swiping the map and strategic counters off the table. Harry flinched. The man seemed absolutely furious. "Do you have any idea how valuable an asset that was?" he demanded.

"Yeah, I do," Harry said. "It was my own, after all."

"What a bloody waste," Jörmundur said, sighing in resignation. "Unless you can make another one-"

"I can't."

"Then we're out in the cold, aren't we? Without your power I can't see how we can win this war, and that's the simple truth." He did not appear as angry now, but more resigned.

"You think I'm going to give up?" Harry demanded. "Would you have done that if I hadn't fallen out of the sodding sky in the first place? I refuse to believe it. Or maybe you haven't noticed, but we still have three advantages."

"Oh, I know. A Rider that isn't here, a dragon too weak to fight and an egg which hasn't even hatched. I'm sure the king is quaking in his boots," Jörmundur scoffed.

Harry felt anger on Aru's part. "Say what you want about me, but when you bring my loved ones into the discussion, you've crossed the line."

"Fine. I apologise. But do tell us what your next step is, since you clearly know so much more than we do."

"Easy," Harry said, looking around at each in turn. "We have several months before the king attacks. So we should go to Ellesméra, train and send out scouts to the northwest. Then, once we've identified a wide enough bay, we build ships and leave this accursed land, never to return."

Brom stared at Harry in disbelief, while Jörmundur was lost for words. Even Aru was surprised.

"You can't be serious," Brom said.

"Serious? Of course I'm not serious! But that's what you would like, isn't it?" Harry demanded of Jörmundur. "You want us to flee, forget about the people in danger, and save our own necks!"

"Don't you dare call me a coward," Jörmundur said, his eyes flashing. "I'll carry on this fight until my dying breath. That doesn't mean I hold our chances in high regard."

"What we do is open for discussion," Brom said loudly, stepping in before it could come to blows. "We need the support of the elves, and we need the warriors of Hrothgar. If we stand together we can succeed, but apart we will die. There's no point planning anything before we can confer with Islanzadí and... others of note. Ideas are useful, which is why we're discussing it in the first place. But actual plans are off the table."

"Literally," Harry muttered, taking in the mess at his feet.

"Furthermore," Brom said, looking at him sharply, "we only just survived a battle, narrowly. There's no point talking of another so soon, not when we're so weakened we can barely move without fear. The wards in Ellesméra will surely be reinforced, but whether we can use them as a means to escape the east remains to be seen. We need council to know for sure which option is the most efficient."

"And first we have to get there," Harry finished, knowing what Brom would end with. "What route do you plan on taking? I assume cutting through the Hadarac is out of the question, which means you must be following the river north."

"Almost, but we plan to deviate after reaching its most northern point and turn northwest, which should lead us to Ília Féon within a week."

"A week?" Harry asked, perplexed. "With the size of this convoy?"

"We need to push onwards. No one can afford to straggle. Time is of the essence. We can easily cover several leagues a day, provided the civilians are given enough rest each night. It definitely shouldn't take more than a fortnight at the most, but I would honestly consider that bad timing."

"Very well," Harry said. "What are my orders?"

Brom looked at him, and saw that he was filled with expectation. That was good. It showed that Harry was eager to progress, and he needed people to think forward like that.

"I want you to take permanent command of Du Vrangr Gata. The magicians are to aid with the march in any way possible, be it healing, making repairs or guarding the most vulnerable. Speak to Trianna and make arrangements to spread the members around the convoy."

"Hmm... that would still be what, one magician to a hundred people? More?" Harry asked.

"It's not terribly efficient," Brom admitted, "but it's the best we can do for now. Arya will aid you, and I'll do my best to help whenever possible as well. Saphira, as including now, will be mostly flying reconnaissance ahead of the convoy. But keep Arucane with you at all times. It'll provide a measure of hope for the people."

"A good idea," Harry said.

"I'm glad you approve," Jörmundur said with sarcasm. Harry ignored him.

"I also want you to contact Eragon whenever possible," Brom said. "Scry him thrice daily, if you can, and maintain knowledge of where he is. It'll help the elven scouts, when they are sent out, and we need to know if he runs into any unforeseen trouble."

"Ah, yes... trouble. That has a proclivity for finding us when we least expect it," Harry said, drawing a breath. "What happens if we're attacked?"

"In that case, the warriors will hold the attackers off for long enough so that the civilians may flee at pace."

"They'll never get far enough," Harry warned.

"I know, but what other option is there?"

Harry could think of none. He did have an idea for warning, however.

"There should be scouts both east and west of the convoy at all times, just as a precaution. They could move with us, but out of the way. I'd prefer to send magicians, so that they might contact us if anything does happen."

"We need those magicians here," Brom pointed out.

"We do, but what will there be for them to help if we're attacked without warning?"

"I see your point. Very well, you can plan this, since they're now under your command again. Nyos has taken command of a third of our remaining strength, and the other two will be led by myself and Jörmundur. In the event of a battle we'll be in charge, but the people will also look to you for leadership. Keep that in mind."

Harry nodded. "I won't let you down."

"Forget about me," Brom scoffed. "Don't let the Varden down. They're counting on you. They're counting on us all."

After that lively chat, Brom sent Harry to rest for a while, since he was still in need of time to fully reenergise. Harry chose to spend that time with Angela, as he was intrigued to see how her treatment had carried out. It also gave him room to shave, which looked unusual after weeks of having a beard, and he tried to ignore the strange sensation by bantering with his partner in joke insanity. She reported that the swelling on Murtagh's neck and torso had been wholly eliminated, and that the blistered skin had started to recede. It also seemed to help with the pain, and his fever would be broken with the help of some additional medicines within a few hours.

"He'll definitely live," Angela beamed. "That was a genius idea, Harry. Well done!"

Harry blushed a little. "He would have done the same for me."

"Ah, but your roles have not been reversed, have they? If they had, I daresay the world would have been turned upside down."

"Probably," Harry replied, yawning widely. "When will he awaken?"

"Maybe in a day, maybe in a week. I'm not certain, really. But you should be prepared; that scarring will never disappear, and it'll take time for him to fully heal, mentally as well as physically. The tissue and muscle should be mended within a few weeks, but the scorch marks themselves will take longer."

So he'll look like Two-Face, Harry thought. "I hope he doesn't mind the scars."

"He will, for a time. But with moral support he'll be as right as rain eventually. Nasuada seems awfully fond of him, if that helps," she added.

"What are you saying?" Harry asked, screwing up his face in amusement.

Angela shrugged playfully. "Take some time and work it out, if you must. Although I think you could use that time to woo Trianna, to be honest."

"Thanks for your wisdom, o glorious Seer. Would you like an update on Brom, per chance?"

"Only if he tries to poison me," Angela muttered. "Though mind you, he would be a fool to try that. I'm a master of poisons and herbs. In fact, remind him of that, would you?"

"You want me to tell him you're a master of poisons? He'll probably think you're threatening him."

"A little paranoia wouldn't hurt," Angela said with a grin.

A loud purring noise drew Harry's gaze, and he found Solembum asleep next to Aru, who was looking at him in confusion. Harry laughed at the sight.

"Cats are like that," he told the emerald dragon.

Aru seemed to shudder and stepped away, before jumping onto Harry's shoulder. Harry was almost knocked off-balance.

"Okay, you're getting too big for that," he stated, drawing a disappointed look in turn. "What? Don't act so upset. You knew it would happen eventually."

"Hmm."

"At the very least, you can make progress on reaching Saphira's size," Harry suggested casually.

"Oh, tosh!" Angela exclaimed. She pointed a finger at him accusingly. "Your mind is filled with romance tonight, young one. But forget giving advice, if you can't take it yourself."

Harry wanted to quip back, but instead he found himself thinking about Trianna. Her raven-coloured hair, shining sapphire eyes...

"You really think I should?" he asked suddenly, with worry in his voice. "I mean, I haven't forgotten how I feel, but after the battle she may think differently."

Angela sighed and looked at him in resignation. "Then she'd be a bloody fool. But there's only one way to know for sure, so get off your scrawny backside and go and ask her."

"I approve, if that helps," Aru said, before falling asleep.

Strangely, it did, although he didn't need anybody's approval save hers and his own. Making up his mind in that moment, Harry set Arucane on the soft mat next to Kreacher's unconscious form and left the carriage, missing Angela's grin at his departing back. He knew where she was, just from feeling the various minds of people nearby. Only a handful had concrete defences, and she let him in upon feeling the touch of his mind. He barely knew her, but it felt like she was closer than almost anyone.

"I missed you," Harry admitted.

He received a happy response, and she sent him the image of a smallish tent several minutes away. Harry followed the directions carefully, and wound up outside, heart pounding. Surely not. He didn't even care if his hunch was right. Why would it make a difference now, or in ten years? Taking a deep breath, he pulled the flap aside and entered.

There she stood, long hair gleaming in the candlelight. She smiled upon seeing him, her eyes lit with joy and relief. Out of nowhere, she rushed forward and embraced him, mashing her lips to his own. After a moment, she stopped and rested her forehead against his, eyes shut.

"I missed you too," she said softly. "I'm a strong woman, Harry, but when you went to fight Durza I... I was afraid. Afraid for the first time since my parents were killed."

"I'm sorry," Harry said in earnest, his voice low. That answered the question of whether she felt the same. "I promise... I'll never do that again. I only want to see you happy."

Inside, Harry's mind was reeling. Could two people who barely knew one another really feel such deep affection? He had always liked to think so, and after meeting Arucane his thoughts on the matter had amplified. Where was the proof that people couldn't fall in love at first sight? There was plenty which proved the opposite true. And who was he to control his heart? No one. He was a mere vessel for his soul, and love is one soul living in two bodies, searching for its other half without end.

Had he found his?

Nothing could have prepared him for what came next. All of a sudden, the two of them kissed together, deeper this time. Harry felt her chest heaving against his torso, awakening a desire he had never felt so strongly before. Trianna wrapped her arms around his head and drew him closer, her tongue attacking his with gusto. Harry responded in kind, gripping her tight and feeling the smooth skin of her back through the thin garment she wore.

Through her kisses, he struggled to say: "I've never-"

"Neither have I," she whispered, barely getting the words out as she continued to plant innumerable kisses on his lips and cheek.

Suddenly, Trianna turned him around and pushed him onto the travelling bed she had made for the tent, grinning ruefully. Then, before Harry could as much as smile back, she was on top of him, straddling him. She never ceased kissing him for a while after that, allowing Harry to taste the tang or raspberries on her lips and tongue, while inhaling her enticing aroma. The sensations sent tingles to his scalp and fingertips.

He wouldn't have minded going slowly, but Trianna had other ideas. She practically ripped his shirt off, and he almost laughed at her eagerness. But he contented himself by smiling against her lips, and returned the favour, albeit a little more gently. From there they continued for what felt like hours, until he was looking down on her, gasping and sweating together with the woman he now knew he loved. Trianna arched her neck and let out a moan as the two climaxed together, and Harry eventually collapsed beside her.

She smiled at him after a little while, and he returned the gesture, before leaning forward and planting a kiss on her sweet lips. He drew her close, holding her tight in his arms. The two eventually fell asleep in that manner, with Trianna's head buried in his chest, and Harry feeling that he had never been as happy in his entire life.