For Better or Worse Chapter 16: Journeys end in lovers meeting, an inheritance cycle fanfic

A/N:

1. I'm a wee bit afraid of telling you, but this is actually the last chapter (okay, I'm cheating, there'll be an epilogue next week, but still). Look at the title – it's the closing piece to the first chapter, and, as the first, describes the theme of this fic: journeys.

On the one hand, we have the literal journey of the two through the north of Eragonland, or rather, Murtagh unsure about where to go next but nonetheless pulling Eragon along. On the other hand, we have the development of both characters, which I'd like to describe as journeys as well. Murtagh goes from inglorious bastard to an actually reasonable person (when it comes to Eragon he's even nice), and Eragon goes from high school student to... I can't say it, but I think all of you know. And all these journeys will have come to an end once this chapter is finished, and the fic is not about what happens next. It's done.

2. I was so close to have the Ra'zac kill off Brom here, just as I was so close a few chapters ago to let Murtagh leave without making up with Eragon, which could have led to the Riders opposing each other on the Burning Plains. Both would have been wonderfully close to canon, but then, I'm such a weakling. No unhappy or overdramatic end for this fic.

3. A general shoutout to all my reviewers: you're wonderful, you're amazing, and you're simply the best! Thank you so much for all your feedback, criticism, and praise! You made me a very happy person!

---xxxxx---

Kvertha, skulblaka: "Greetings, dragon."

Journeys end in lovers meeting – Shakespeare

Chapter 16

September 25th

Murtagh flicked his tongue along Eragon's ear. "You like that, don't you?"

"Yes," Eragon gasped, not so much referring to what was done to his ear. He pushed back to impale himself deeper onto the other. "Move!"

"As you wish." Murtagh withdrew almost all the way, then went back in, slowly but forcefully. Eragon moaned. "Like that?"

"Yes!"

Murtagh chuckled and repeated the action, this time going a little faster. Eragon moaned louder. "Again?"

"Yes!"

Very soon Murtagh's thrusts sent Eragon rocking back and forth on the bed. His whole body began to tingle and shiver, while his mind was floating through spheres of pleasure, rising higher and higher. Without wasting a thought on it, he took himself into his hand and started pumping along, waiting in bliss for his rapidly approaching climax.

"Quiet!" Murtagh ordered, but kept his pace.

Too confused, Eragon only groaned louder. Close, so close.

His hand sped up.

All of a sudden Murtagh stilled and grabbed Eragon's wrist, tearing it away from his privates. "Too loud," he grumbled, and then, "Wake up!"

Startled, Eragon sat up straight in bed. A quick look around in the dark room told him that he was alone, even though he needed a few moments to realize it – the dream had been too real. One of his hands, he found out a moment later, was still clasped firmly around his aroused flesh, moving on its own accord. Oh dear!

He shook his head to clear his mind and little by little regained control of his body. Reluctantly the hand stopped moving and let go, which was not received too well on parts of the erection, but Eragon ignored it. He was sweating all over and still breathing raggedly. Oh dear!

At sixteen, he had had his share of wet dreams, and recently, he had also had his share of dreams with Murtagh in it. But a combination as the one he had just experienced was new, and of a new intensity. And good.

Fully aware of his needs now, Eragon returned his hand to where it had been and resumed stroking himself. The moment he closed his eyes, he saw Murtagh, who was eyeing him with the typical smirk that made him look so very sexy. So good! Eragon gasped.

Fantasizing that it was the Rider touching him, and almost hearing Murtagh whisper dirty things, Eragon came faster than he would have expected. Lying in the afterglow, he reluctantly said good-bye to the mental picture, and right after invited it to come back whenever it wished to.

Only slowly did his heart go back to its normal pace, but the more it did, the clearer became his thinking. Soon he was embarrassed. What if Brom heard me? His heart sped up again. Carefully he listened into the dark, distracted by the blood that was still rushing in his ears. To his relief, however, all was quiet on the first floor. But then, he already knew Brom was not like other men. He swallowed. I can't let that happen again!

He was not too sure that he would be able to abide by that rule.

The two previous days, in total, could only be called wonderful, and the same applied to Brom. More than once Eragon had had to tell himself just how stupid it had been to be afraid. Still, despite all the distraction and new impressions, not an hour had passed in which he had not thought of Murtagh, had not missed Murtagh, had not wished Murtagh was there as well. So with his heart and mind crying out for the raven-haired already, it should not have surprised him that his body was sending the same message.

It did not make matters any better, however.

For weeks Eragon had ignored who Murtagh was when he was not with him, but now it was painfully obvious that the Rider had gone to war, which meant fighting and an endless number of threats. Whenever Eragon allowed these thoughts to cross his mind, he was devastated. On the one hand, imagining Murtagh fighting and killing people was terrifying, and when Eragon thought that it could be any of the friendly elves dying he felt even worse, almost dizzy. On the other hand, the thought that Murtagh would get hurt, that Murtagh could die, was unbearable and made Eragon's heart stop beating and his lungs stop working. It could not be.

Unbidden, a picture formed in his mind; again he was seeing Murtagh. This time, however, the warrior was not smirking, but instead every emotion was wiped off his nearly white face. His eyes were open but not seeing anymore, staring lifeless into space. A fine red line of blood made its way down from one corner of his mouth to his chin… No!

Eragon realized that he would rather have Murtagh kill the people that were about to attack him than have them kill him. At the same time, the thought alone felt like summoning hell and he was disgusted with himself. Fervently he prayed that Murtagh would just keep away from battle as much as possible and find other tasks. He promised!

Eragon rubbed his temples to get rid of the nightmarish daydreams, hard as it was. For the moment, he had to deal without Murtagh, and therefore place his focus on other matters.

He pushed open the shutters of the window above his bed, and a fresh breeze made him shiver and successfully dispersed the last clouds of missing and anguish. On to a new day!

Once more Eragon listened closely. There was still no sound coming from Brom's bedroom, but the awakening village outside could be heard. A baby was crying, pigs were grunting, and a woman was yelling either at a man or a dog, who were both howling shortly afterwards.

With Brom apparently not up yet, Eragon lay down again to rest open-eyed.

He figured that being in Carvahall was about the strangest thing that had happened to him in many months, for the simple reason of it being so normal. It held the promise of becoming a regular, orderly life, with a schedule of tasks every day and no surprises jumping at him as they had far too many times during his travels. I shall not mind that, he thought, his eyes wandering in the grey light from one part of the room to the next. Everything was solid. The house was of a solid wooden built, the furniture of a good quality, and all those books promised a place of knowledge, a place where questions could be answered. It's as if Brom is there to bring back structure to my life. The idea pleased him, as did the thought of staying in one place. Actually, this could be a home…

By no means had Eragon forgotten his stay in Ellesméra, but it had never triggered any comparisons with home as Carvahall – despite all its medievalness – did. The elves and their settlements had simply been too different for Eragon to feel truly comfortable; he very much preferred a home with straight walls, with windows that could be closed, or with a stove and a kettle on top. Just like Brom's house! It did not even bother him much to imagine a future without electricity. Some things, he had long since learned, were surprisingly easy to live without.

Others, however, were not. Forcefully he pushed back Murtagh, who was again sneaking into his thoughts.

On the first day after the Rider's departure, Eragon had complimented Brom on his home, tentatively hinting at how different Ellesméra had felt to him. To his surprise, his host had immediately agreed. Eragon had then dared to go into details, but still, Brom had nodded his head to everything. At the same time, he held the elves in highest regards, counting them as good friends and loyal allies. Eragon had nearly cheered out loud, so happy had he been about someone understanding his feelings. Until then, the only chance he had had to talk about the elves had been conversation with Murtagh, who, despite his efforts to give a fair account, was strongly biased. Negatively biased. In this respect, Brom was heaven-sent.

The shared sentiments towards the elves as well as their mutual preference of human settlements had broken more of the remaining barriers between Eragon and Brom, the conversations following being far more relaxed. It had been a very informative first day.

The next day after breakfast, Brom had taken him around the village and had introduced him to so many people that Eragon knew he was lucky to remember a fifth of the names. But just as Brom's home, Carvahall seemed orderly, and moreover, Eragon had received a ton of friendly smiles and only an occasional frown, which had heartened him to look forward with a positive attitude.

Later the day, they had left the village and walked some distance to the farm of the man named Garrow, who was living with his only son, Roran. There, Eragon had understood why Brom had wanted them to go: Roran and he had been on the same wavelength right from the start, and already Eragon was looking forward to their next meeting, sensing a possible future friend. It left him with the wonderful feeling of already belonging.

What else could I possibly ask for? he asked himself rhetorically, but when his mind again came up with a certain picture, he felt like slapping himself.

A flash of colour caught his eye and disturbed his thinking. The orange cat, which, Brom had explained, was not his but spent a great deal of its time here, had woken up and now made its way over to Eragon's bed, clearly aiming for the open window.

"Hey, kitty!" Eragon flicked his fingers to attract its attention, but seemingly was not deemed worthy enough to be spent time with. With only the shortest of looks the cat acknowledged his presence when it jumped on the bed, then it was up on the sill and a moment later gone. "Don't ever try to cuddle with me!" he called, leaning out the window and watching it disappear between neighbouring houses. "Next time, I won't want you."

"Who are you talking to?"

Eragon flinched and shot around. He had not heard any noise coming from upstairs. "Hello, Brom!" Do I look stupid, or do I look stupid? "It was just the cat."

"Ah, Minx." Brom descended down the stairs and walked to the stove, lightening a fire with flint and cinder. Murtagh had said that the man could likely still perform easy spells, but so far, Eragon had seen nothing of it. "I was wondering whether perhaps you talk in your sleep…"

Eragon hurried out of bed to help prepare breakfast. "I don't know, to be honest. Murtagh never said anything, though."

Brom looked at him. "Would he have told you if you did?"

Eragon stopped dead with two wooden plates in his hands. One of the first things he had learned about Brom was that he noticed more than others, and derived more from answers than only the obvious. "Yes, I think so," he said carefully. How much does he suspect about us?

Brom dropped the topic. "Could you see whether there are any eggs?"

"Sure." Quickly Eragon put the plates on the table and left, glad to get away from the questioning eyes. He went around the corner of the house to the small pen, which was occupied by a goat, four chicken, and a rooster. Accompanied by protests of all six, he felt in the nests for eggs, but when the chicken started picking at his hand and the goat nibbled at his pants, he knew he needed a different approach. Thus, he grabbed a handful of hay to appease the goat, then opened the door and ushered the chicken and rooster out, which later he would have done in any case. His next attempt looking for eggs was far more peaceful.

"You got cobweb in your hair," Brom informed him on returning.

"Oh." Eragon put three eggs on the table and felt self-consciously for the sticky treads.

While he had been gone, Brom had heated water for a tea and set the table with eating knives, bread, and cheese. Now a pan on the stove quickly turned the eggs into omelette, which Brom flavoured generously with salt. Eragon's mouth watered. The day before he had realized how tired he was of the unflavoured food he had had during their travels – not that he would ever hold that against Murtagh. Still, he now had a whole new grasp of his history books calling salt the 'white gold'.

His first mouth full of omelette was pure delight, and Eragon chewed extra slowly. But soon his mind wandered to other matters. "What are we going to do today?" When he realized that Brom was not there solely for his entertainment, he blushed. "I mean, can I help you with anything?"

Brom, however, seemed not to mind. "I thought that, as you don't have a sword at the moment, I could show you how to use a bow. Unless, of course, you are already skilled in the art..."

"No! No, I am not." At this point, Brom only knew that Eragon was from far, far away, and had yet to be told any specifics. "I'd like to learn, though," Eragon said, smiling, while a picture of Robin Hood was forming before his inner eye. A Robin Hood who looked like Murtagh. Eragon cursed under his breath.

"We could hunt ourselves some dinner, what do you think?" Brom was smiling as well. The idea seemed to appeal to him.

Eragon nodded eagerly. So far, it had always been Murtagh hunting for and organizing food. Next time, I surprise him! Then he remembered that he did not know when next time was, and his enthusiasm was dampened.

"Hunting it is, then." Brom cleared his plate with a piece of bread and stood up. "Pack some food, please, for us to eat lunch. I'll see to my bow."

It did not take long and they were set to go and left the house.

"Good morning, Madge!" they called in unison to their neighbour, who was busy plucking a chicken and greeted them without looking up. Her maybe five-year-old daughter came running around the house, looking exactly like her mother only in small and skinny, and, stupidly, also having her mother's name. "Hey, Madgie," Brom greeted, patting her on her head. Eragon waved.

She scrutinized the two of them, her eyes lingering on the bow. "You are going to hunt!"

Brom smiled down at her. "That's right."

"I'm coming! Ma!"

Old Madge looked up.

"I'm going with them!"

"Only till Webb's house, then you'll turn around!"

While young Madge was pouting, Eragon saw Brom nod at her mother, who nodded back, and off they went.

Instantaneously, Eragon had to accept that all conversation with Brom was postponed until after Webb's house – wherever that was – as the girl drowned them in a fountain of information, seemingly not breathing at all in between two sentences. In no time Eragon learned where all the nice children in Carvahall lived – "If you want to play with them." – and where those lived that he should avoid. His disbelieving and amused look was answered with a shrug of Brom's shoulders. "I've been invited to play with them as well, no need to feel out of place," the old man mumbled, and they grinned at each other.

Webb's house, Eragon soon found out, was the last in Carvahall's west. Little Madge was quiet all of a sudden, pouting again, but she obediently stayed behind, waving after them.

For a moment, Eragon and Brom treaded the path out of the village without speaking, mutually glad about the sudden silence. But when the sun broke through the early autumn morning's mist, Eragon could not help but admire his surroundings and comment on the wild meadow and the forest beginning not far ahead of them.

"It is a wonderful place to live," Brom confirmed "Just wait. It'll get even better soon." The path turned north, and he motioned for them to leave it and headed for the trees. Their feet left visible traces in the long, wet grass.

Carefully Eragon stepped around anything blooming this late of the year, following Brom who was going straight west. Wait. We're going west? "Brom?" Eragon remembered Murtagh telling him about the surroundings of Carvahall.

Brom halted until Eragon had caught up to him.

"Are we going to the Spine?"

Brom was watching him, a light smile playing around his lips. "We are."

"Oh." Eragon looked up at the trees surrounding them, which seemed rather harmless. "Murtagh said that the Spine is… No, he said that the people say that the Spine is dangerous."

Brom took his time to answer. "The people also say that Murtagh is dangerous… Would you agree?"

Eragon grimaced. Wonderful! he thought ironically. "I think… I would have to agree, yes."

"But would you say he's dangerous when it comes to you?"

"No!"

Brom nodded, contemplating. "Why would you say that is?"

"He's not who you think he is!" Are we still talking about the Spine?

Brom raised a hand to appease. "I wouldn't say that I know who he is. I only know many of the things he's done, and I know that I've never heard of anything... anything like this happening." He made a gesture that included Eragon.

"It was different in the beginning," Eragon conceded, but he was not in the mood to go into length as he had done with the elves. "We're… very close. Friends. I know people don't expect that of him, but... in his life emotions are dangerous. That doesn't mean he doesn't have any." Shuffling through the forest floor, he figured that he had told Brom more than enough for the moment. He cleared his throat. "What about the Spine?"

Brom's eyebrows shot up. "I thought I had said all that was needed."

Eragon hesitated, feeling stupid out of precaution.

"I'm sorry if I wasn't clear." They had reached several unusually wide oaks, which seemed to tell Brom that they needed to turn south. Soon the invisible path he was following was rising noticeably. "What I meant was that danger is relative. The Spine isn't so different from other mountain ranges, but its history has seen tragedies and death, and these days people say the place is cursed." He threw Eragon a sidelong glance. "How easily is a Shadeslayer scared?" His voice held a strange note; it was the first time that the subject had come up, and therefore, the term had never left Brom's lips before.

Eragon shrugged. "I don't know. But so much has happened already… If I was not only scared of the things opposing me, but also of those that are only maybe there, or that are hiding… I couldn't leave the house, could I?" He grinned although the words had been a bit bolder than he felt.

"I like that. Don't be afraid of the Spine. Be careful, watch your surroundings, and you'll be fine."

They reached the top of the closest hill to Carvahall, which granted them a wonderful view on the forested mountains in the west, north, and east. To the south, the valley opened up into meadows and fields, with a road winding along a creek. "Look around!" Brom called. "Does anything look dangerous?"

Eragon was too awed to answer right away. He had grown up with spectacular sights, but there was nothing he could compare the Palancar valley with. "Maybe dangerous because we'll stand here all day, admiring the sight and wasting time?"

Brom chuckled. "You're right, let's go! But always remember: every forest holds some dangers, but only for the ignorant!"

They walked for another hour, turning alternately south and west, until they reached a small clearing and Brom called for a stop. On their way, Eragon had seen Brom place a snare every now and then in passing. When the former Rider now handed him the bow, he could not help but shake his head and laugh a little. "How much do you trust me to earn us dinner?"

"What do you mean?"

"The slings."

Brom smiled. "After only weeks of practice with a sword you destroyed a Shade. But still, there were weeks of practice."

Eragon sighed. You won. "And I did not kill him because of my great swordsmanship, either," he admitted. "I guess those slings are a good idea."

"I thought so. Now, how much do you know about bows?"

"Err… You need arrows to use it?" Eragon shrugged helplessly. "I'm sorry, Brom."

"Don't be, don't be," the older man assured. "Here, take it. We'll start with the right posture and then I'll show you what to do with the tendon."

Later, Eragon would thank whatever powers might be that he had started practicing with already a good deal of muscles due to sword fighting. Had he been asked to draw Brom's bow back at home, he would have failed miserably. As it was, he had the wonderful basis of being strong enough, and solely had to work on his aim and how to properly loosen an arrow. But then, those two things were enough of a nightmare already.

The next arrow was freed from his hand and raced through the air.

"Excellent!" Brom called, clapping his hand and nearly jumping up and down. "Excellent!"

Eragon stared at the other open-mouthed for long seconds. "If the arrow had flown far enough, it would have missed the target by at least ten yards!"

Brom thumped him on the back. "You won't hit anything for some time to come, but the way you did it… excellent. Wonderful posture, wonderfully focused."

Eragon was blushing. "Well… that isn't too bad, I guess?" He jogged to retrieve the arrow, which, compared to the occasional one Brom shot, was lying rather close. "Have I earned myself lunch?" he asked playfully on his way back.

Brom looked up at the sky where the sun had already passed its zenith. "I can hardly reject that."

They sat down beneath a chestnut, unpacking potato pies and diluted ale.

"Brom…" Eragon began after a while. "I… don't get me wrong, I think the Spine is a beautiful place, but… could we not have practiced right out of town? Why are we here?"

Brom grimaced as if caught. "We could have stayed, true, but as it's the nature of people with so little access to news, the villagers are horribly curious and eavesdropping whenever they can."

"Eavesdropping? Do you want to talk to me?"

Brom nodded, taking a long sip and thinking some. "Yes, I do... But I also wanted to show you the Spine!"

Eragon had a good idea of what Brom wanted to talk about. "Murtagh." Again.

Brom nodded another time. "I don't know whether you can imagine just how complicated it is between us, with you here, I mean. Before, it was all settled."

"Enmity to death." Eragon sighed. It was the status quo that Murtagh had with several people.

"And now you tie us together, in a way, but I cannot accept him. Do you know what he's doing out there, Eragon? What he will be doing the next months?" Brom's tone changed from serious to disgusted. "Murder, I tell you! So many people he will meet, and so little will survive it. We fight to free this country, but he fights to keep the king in power. I cannot accept him!"

Accept him? Eragon was confused. "He doesn't-" he began, but then bit his lip. As much as he already liked and trusted Brom, he would not yet tell him of Murtagh secretly opposing the king. Too much possible harm that I cannot foresee. "We have an agreement," he said instead. "He's going to avoid as many battles as he can, and will refrain from killing if possible." This they had talked about in their last night before Carvahall – in between being intimate.

"An agreement?" Brom asked, disbelieving. "What's your part of it?"

"My part?" Eragon looked down on his hands. "I don't have a part. I just... asked him."

"You asked him?" Brom rose to his feet. "You asked him? And he nodded and promised to do as you wished?"

Eragon looked up at Brom, frowning. Shouldn't he be happy? He tried to remain as calm as possible, wanting to impress with the difference in their behaviour. "I don't think it should be of your interest how the agreement came about. It's there. He'll do his best."

"Don't be stupid! He wouldn't- There must be another reason!"

Eragon shook his head. "You can believe me or not, but I told you the truth." Briefly he weighed the pros and cons of telling more, and decided at least to hint. "Apart from that, he has other reasons to avoid fighting for Galbatorix, but it is not for me to tell."

Brom studied him for long moments, the anger visibly retreating. Finally he extended a hand and touched Eragon's shoulder. "And it is not for me to be mad with you. I beg your forgiveness."

Eragon took the withered hand and squeezed it. "Sit down, please. I've seen how talking about this conflict makes even the calmest elf shout…"

Brom shook his head. "I should know better."

They sat in a strained silence for a while, Brom fumbling with his pipe and Eragon fiddling with an arrow in his hand.

"Brom?" Eragon eventually asked. "I'd like to make an agreement with you, too."

Brom looked at him, an ironic twinkle in his eyes. "Hear, hear." But he seemed curious.

"Do not judge him without truly knowing him… please."

Brom grimaced. "If I said no – which I'd like to do, believe me – I'd break with one of the basic principles I've fought for all my life… Therefore, I can't say no. I agree."

"Excellent!" Eragon copied Brom's earlier tone perfectly, making them both laugh.

"I have a condition, however," Brom said after a while.

Eragon's laughter ended in several coughs. "What is it?"

"You'll practice some more with the bow right now."

---xxxxx---

It was late afternoon and the sun had disappeared behind clouds when they turned back north. Brom was still very much content with how Eragon had handled the bow, while Eragon's opinion on this was on the opposite side of the scale.

When they reached the first of the slings they found a trapped rabbit, and without a word Brom beckoned Eragon to use his knife. Eragon swallowed. Murtagh had once forced him to do exactly this – kill a rabbit – but Eragon had felt sick for the rest of the day. Now, however, he understood the necessity – not only to kill for food, but also to prove his inner strength to Brom. Without further hesitation, he cut open the little throat. Oh my God! It was not in the least easier than last time.

Tactfully Brom had his eyes averted, but not, Eragon was sure, because of the rabbit, but rather because of Eragon's scruples. This way, the old man could pretend not to notice.

Within the next half hour the sky darkened, and they suspected a storm to be brewing. Contrary to their way south right through the forest, they were now taking a small path back, which ran parallel to the street heading for Carvahall. From their heightened point of view, Eragon could occasionally see a farm or someone hurrying down the road.

Suddenly Brom stopped. "Look! What do you see?" he asked, pointing to their right in the direction of the road.

"Hmm..." Eragon squinted his eyes but was not sure what the other meant. "There's a building... Is it a farm?"

"It is. Would you say someone lives there?"

"Err… yes. The chimney is smoking."

Brom grimaced. "It's Will's old farm. The entire family died last year."

"What? But who made the fire?"

Determination spread on Brom's face. "That's what I want to know." He turned to Eragon and took him by the shoulders. "Can you find the way home by yourself? I'd rather not take you with me, because I don't know who could be down there."

Eragon swallowed. "Sure. But... is it dangerous for you to go there on your own?"

"I hope not. Now go! We'll meet in Carvahall." His brow furrowed in concern, Brom left.

For a moment Eragon hesitated, watching after the old man. Then he remembered how both Brom and Murtagh had told him to leave some decisions to the former Rider and accept his guidance. I better get going, then.

He turned north again, the dead rabbit dangling on a cord he carried in his right, an occasional drop of blood making its way to the ground. Every now and then he scanned his surroundings, but Carvahall was nowhere in sight yet, hidden from any curious eyes by the forest surrounding it. A look back told him that he had also lost sight of both the farm and Brom. Unconsciously, he walked faster.

About half an hour later a formation of huge rocks at the side of a steep hill to his left caught his attention. He remembered how earlier they had crossed that hill from the other side, and, more importantly, how Brom had placed a sling somewhere close to the foot of the hill before they had crossed it. If I kill a rabbit without being asked to do so, it means so much more. His mind was made up in an instant. Only briefly he wavered when a strong gust of wind made his cloak flap behind him and he realized just how dark the sky had become. Then he turned his steps away from the path and towards the hill.

Once he reached the rocks, the first raindrops fell on his face and hands; when he passed the summit, he already felt the need to pull his hood deep in his face. The moment when he indeed found another rabbit in the second sling, the first thunder roared, making him flinch.

Disturbed by the elements unfolding, Eragon did not have enough time to delay killing the frightened animal or feel much sympathy. His thoughts were already on the way ahead of him, or rather, on the way he had just taken. Now that the afternoon was dark as night, he would certainly not find the way they had come earlier through the thick of the forest. Returning to the path is far more safe!

However, on climbing back up the hill, he slipped. The first flash illuminated the way ahead, and he saw that the stony ground was completely wet, with small trickles of water already making their way down.

He ground his teeth and walked on, but it became only worse. Within the next five minutes, he slipped three more times without reaching the top. When last he fell and skittered several feet down, cutting open the palm of his right, he knew the path on the other side was not an option anymore. Shit!

Fighting the fear that was creeping upwards from his feet, he carefully made his way downward once more, staring at the forest in front of him. He knew Carvahall was somewhere to the north, but unknown as the forest was to him, chances were high he would miss it nonetheless. And what if I lose my way and end up going in circles? Still, staying in one place was even worse.

His body set in defiance against the forces of nature he marched on, bowing his head and upper body against the wind and the cold rain. His hand burnt like fire. I want a refuge hut, he thought, and then, Or Murtagh and I could cower beneath Thorn's wings for protection. The thought of the Rider warmed his heart, and for a few minutes walking became easier. But then an ear-splitting thunder called him back to the present, and all of a sudden he was knocked off his feet by some sort of shock wave.

What on earth...? Eragon looked up from the mud in time to be blinded by a blue flash, which hit the ground only a few yards away. It took him a while to realize that the noises he heard were his own screams.

Eventually the flash ended and the world went mostly dark again. A lurid spot remained in Eragon's vision, but he accredited it to the aftereffects of having looked into the bright light. However, after he had risen to his feet and had blinked a few times, there was still a light cutting through the darkness.

He turned towards the origin of the bluish glow – and stopped dead. My stone! he thought, dumbfounded, while the rain was running down his face. And yet, even as he thought that, calling the item a stone seemed wrong.

As if drawn by strings he neared what he had once seen in his dream, his breath coming in shallow intervals while his heart was hammering in his chest. The stone – or whatever it was – quickly lost its glow, and when it was no more than a blue, oval item on the forest floor, Eragon deemed it safe enough to extend one hand and make contact.

Nothing happened.

Eragon dropped the rabbits and scooted closer, touching the cool, hard surface with both hands. He realized how the rain not only pattered on his head, but on the thing as well. Overwhelmed by a strong protective instinct, he carefully picked it up and carried it over to a spot beneath a copse of small fir trees. By no means was it a dry spot, but the branches with their fine needles took away the strength of the rain.

For a moment he only pressed the thing to his chest, rocking back and forth. Then he brought it up in front of his face and used the very brief instants of flashes to examine it more closely. Really, it's not a stone. There can't be stones so symmetrical to make a math teacher's heart dance, can there? At the same time, he did not have a clue what else it could be.

Let's see. He turned the un-stony something around to study it from all sides. It kind of reminds me of the eggs I've collected this morning... He hesitated. Some birds, he had learned back in elementary school, had bluish eggs, but never of a colour as intense. And never ever so big! What animal could possibly need such a giant-

In just the moment that Eragon's eyes went wide with realization, the egg screamed, and he dropped it so rapidly as if it had burned his hands. Eyeing it warily from a little distance, he tried to process what was happening; the egg, however, would not really let him.

Again it screamed, and on its own rolled to the side. During the next flash, Eragon saw how a fine line spread over the surface, followed swiftly by several more. Oh my! Now he could not only tell Brom and Murtagh that he had found the egg and that, due to the screaming, it still had to be alive, but instead, he could tell them that it had actually hatched already.

... Hatched for me?

With a last sound of protest, one side of the egg collapsed, and Eragon caught the first glimpse of a small blue paw. Too awed to remember breathing, he watched how more and more of the leg became visible, and suddenly, a small head perked round the corner of the broken shell, staring straight at him, and straight into his soul.

Eragon was crying.

Another flash turned the evening into day for an instant, illuminating the little sapphire dragon in all its beauty. At the same time, Eragon realized how vulnerable it was, so he moved closer again, extending both hands. Without hesitation, the dragon left the remnants of the egg and came to meet him. Still moved to tears, he picked the little thing up and cradled it in his arms, sitting down against the stem of a fir and leaning forward to cover the dragon from the wind as good as he could.

What he should do next, he had no idea.

Gently one of his thumbs ran over the lithe body, which had pressed itself into his chest and had stilled. Like Thorn... and then, not like Thorn at all. He figured that the soft scales would probably be hard as steel soon enough. "Hmm, baby?" he murmured.

In response to the sounds he made the dragon stirred, nudging Eragon's chin from below. A quiet squeak was barely audible over the rain. "Hmm?" Eragon asked again, shifting so that he could look at the little one, or rather, lose himself in the blue eyes, which stared at him full of curiosity and trust.

"Kind of a bad weather that you chose, don't you think?" he asked in English, before thinking better of it and switching to the common tongue. The dragon cocked his head and listened intently, but made no sign of understanding. Eragon chuckled. "I shouldn't forget how young you are, eh?" Another thunder rolled, and once more his posture became more protective. He pulled at the edges of his cloak to be able to cover all of himself with it, thereby covering the dragon as well.

Once more the little thing nudged him, and Eragon looked inside of the little tent he had created. In the darkness, all he could see were two glimmering eyes. "Could you perhaps nudge me using Morse? Oh no, wait. I don't know any Morse." By the look of it, the dragon was again cocking its head, and a low rumbling reached Eragon's ears. "Are you... are you roaring at me?" He was both amused and concerned. What do I do now? After being stared at for long moments, Eragon heard the rumbling slowly dawned on him. "Are you hungry?"

Although the dragon did not react, Eragon crawled on only three limbs towards the dead rabbits. The free arm kept holding the dragon to his chest, which made his crawling look like that of a deadly wounded person.

Arriving at the rabbits' side, the dragon started squirming. As Eragon deemed it more urgent to feed than to crawl back, he sat down on his heels in the midst of the pouring rain and set the dragon on his thighs. With his knife he roughly skinned one of the rabbits and then cut off tiny pieces of flesh, for a brief moment feeling oddly disrespectful towards the little animal. But then the dragon held open its snout, squeaking in anticipation, and Eragon forgot what had been plaguing him.

With one tiny bit of meat after the next he fed what he spontaneously called his blue miracle, after a while being more than a little surprised at how much fitted into so small a body. The rabbit was nearly gone when the dragon lost its interest. "Whoah!" was all Eragon could think of saying.

Wet and cold he retreated the two of them to the firs, which, he had to learn, were now completely soaked as well. Another nudge guided his attention away from feeling uncomfortable. This time, the dragon touched his hip, which was the closest body part to its snout. "What now?" he asked, leaning down as if that would help understanding.

A tiny tail wrapped itself around the wrist of his right and pulled at it, and even though it was not strong, the intention was obvious. "Do you want me to pet you?" Obediently, Eragon began caressing both scaly top and soft belly – until small but very sharp teeth bit into his hand. "Ouch!" What, in fate's name, am I supposed to do?

Unsure about the dragon's wishes, he simply held out the hand in question to be examined. When he stretched it open, a stinging pain in his palm reminded him of his earlier fall. But if I hadn't fallen, I hadn't gone back...

A content grunt told him that he had interpreted the current desire correctly. The dragon rose to its feet and stepped closer to his hand, reaching with its snout for the bloody palm.

Then it made contact.

A searing pain like a thousand needles piercing his skin shot from Eragon's hand upward, racing through his veins and all too soon affecting his entire body. His scream matched in intensity those of the dragon hatching. Gasping and panting he fought to remain conscious while his hand burned like fire. "Did you have to hit the gash of all places?" he eventually asked between clenched teeth, although he could not quite explain how so much anguish had come about.

When the pain subsided and his breathing returned to normal, he tore his eyes away from the dragon and looked at his hand – and was immediately gasping again. Had it not been for the creature on his lap, he would have jumped up in shock.

The gash was gone, although that in itself would not have caused much surprise on his part after all the weeks in Alagaësia. Instead of the original gash, however, there now was a new one, formed like a circle, and it was shining fiercely in silver. The pain was gone, but still Eragon's blood was boiling in uproar. The dragon, in turn, seemed utterly pleased with itself.

Only very slowly did Eragon come to understand the full extent of what was happening.

---xxxxx---

His teeth were chattering and his feet denying their service when Eragon became truly worried. The dragon, as he constantly checked, was warm and safe, sleeping in his arms, but if Eragon should not be able to go on at one point, the dragon's comfort was endangered. Apart from that, Eragon did not even know whether heading for Carvahall was the right thing to do, but it was the only place he could think of to turn to for protection.

But then, he had no idea of how to make it to Carvahall in the first place.

After recovering from the shock of being marked a Rider, he had fed the remnants of the rabbit to the dragon and bound the other dead prey to his belt. Then, through the thickest of storms, he had set out into the night, having no clue whatsoever whether he was able to follow a roughly northern direction. Finding his way with no path would have been hard under the best of circumstances. Now, it was pure hell.

When going further did not promise any success whatsoever, he stopped at the side of yet another hill, after some time finding sparse shelter beneath an overhanging rock. He had lost all sense of time, and, although he was afraid to admit it, all sense of direction as well. Imagining that Murtagh would likely agree with the tactic of staying in one place and saving strength only reassured him for a fleeting moment. And what do I save my strength for if I have completely strayed afar?

He pinched the bridge of his nose to get rid it of any dark thoughts. I'm going to save strength to protect my little miracle, no matter-

"Eragon?"

Eragon jumped up at mutedly hearing Brom through the rain. This woke the dragon, which made a noise close to a yelp. "Here!"

Brom was considerably closer when he called again. "Eragon?"

"Here!" The dragon craned its neck expectantly.

A figure became visible to Eragon's left. "Are you hurt?"

Eragon briefly looked at his hand, but the gedwëy ignasia had faded. "I'm fine!" he called. "Only cold." He threw his cloak to cover the dragon, which protested rather heavily, aiming to bite Eragon's fingers through the fabric. "Eragon!" Brom arrived in front of him, looking both alarmed and angry. "Why didn't you do as I told you to?" Trying to hold still despite the miniature devil raging so close to his body, Eragon's planned explanation sounded more like a badly executed apology. "I… argh… I wanted to see whether… uhh… in the sling there, the one next to the one hill… Don't!... there was a rabbit. In fact, there was, but then… No!... the storm broke, and-"

"Eragon!" The frown on Brom's forehead had deepened dangerously. "There was a reason why I told you to go straight back home!" he hollered. "And what's that you're hiding?"

I hope he has a strong heart. "I found something… No, I think something found me." Eragon pulled at his cloak, pulling the dragon along who had sunk its teeth firmly into the thick cloth.

A yell escaped Brom, and for a moment he was frozen into a statue, thunderstruck. Several times he reached out with one hand, but pulled it back every time. His eyes darted back and forth between dragon and future Rider, and suddenly his expression went very soft. "The egg?" he asked hoarsely after some time. "You found the egg?"

Eragon shrugged, gathering the now peaceful dragon back into his arms. All this terror only for finding out who has come? The dragon croaked."Just when I figured out what the blue thing was, this little thing here happened." Imagining how he would be telling this Murtagh one day, too, sent his heart hammering again and his mind was full of his love. God almighty! How's he going to react?

As if noticing the abrupt change in his thoughts, the dragon looked up at him, squealing quietly.

"This happened?" Brom picked up his words. "Eragon!" A disbelieving smile made him look a lot younger. "You… this… do you understand?"

Eragon's right stopped petting the dragon and his only answer was holding it out, palm upwards.

Brom understood, and probably did so on a far greater scale than Eragon. From one moment to the next, he was very businesslike. "The thunder might have stopped rolling, but we need to get you out of the rain and wind. No one will see us in the night. Come, follow me!" He strode off to the south.

Eragon willed his numb legs to move and stumbled after Brom. "We aren't going to Carvahall," he stated.

"No," Brom confirmed, throwing him a look and the dragon an even longer one. "We have to keep this a secret." Suddenly he laughed out loud. "This is wonderful! We have a new Rider!"

---xxxxx---

Will's farm, Eragon noticed on entering, was a rather nice one – it had a first floor. With the instruction to take off all wet clothes, Brom immediately sent him upstairs. Tired and exhausted Eragon mounted the stairs at a snail's pace, all of his attention on not letting the dragon fall.

He pushed open a door to his left, finding a room almost empty except for a simple bedstead with some straw in it, a footstool, and a coarse blanket. He put the dragon down on the bed and peeled off the clothes sticking to his body. The shimmering eyes staring at his exposed body was rather disconcerting, but he was too worn out to care much. He grabbed the blanket and lay down next to the dragon, inviting it to the warmth his body provided. The moment he closed his eyes, he was fast asleep.

---xxxxx---

Wonderfully warm from head to toe, Eragon woke, lying on his back. Through closed eyelids he perceived sunlight, which was a positively received contrast to the dark and stormy night.

Stormy… Something stirred in the back of his mind.

The storm…

… The dragon!

His eyes flew open and he stared right into the little predator's face. His yell caused the dragon on his chest to topple backwards and off his body, and only just in time did Eragon catch it from falling off the bed as well. "Sorry, baby!" he said and sat up straight, placing the dragon in front of him. "Have you been staring at me, he?"

Croak.

"Like what you've seen?"

Croak.

Eragon laughed. "Right answer!" He briefly scanned the room and found it as empty as he had suspected the previous night in the dark. "Oh well, better than the cold forest, right?" This time, it was his stomach answering him. He looked at the dragon again. "Are you hungry as well?"

Croak.

"You first." Eragon crawled out of bed and tiptoed over to his clothes, but found them damp and cold and decided otherwise. In nothing but his birthday's suit he tiptoed further to where he had dropped the rabbit, wrinkling his nose at finding flies in the lifeless eyes. "Eww." Touching it as little as possible, he carried it back to the bed, where he realized that in order to feed, he had to go into closer contact with the rabbit after all.

Once the dragon was done eating, Eragon wrapped himself into the blanket, forming some sort of large skirt, and headed for the door to wash his hands and find himself something to eat as well. The dragon, however, on realizing that Eragon was leaving the room, made a leap off the bed and came running after him, falling once or twice. But every time it was back on its feet in an instant, its focus never once leaving the human. Surrendering with a smile, Eragon picked it up with one hand when it reached him. "Just don't watch me when I have to pee, okay?"

Keeping a tight grip on both dragon and his skirt he made his way down, finding the main room to be as bare as the one he had slept in; only the most basic furniture like a table, a long bench, and several stools were present, crowded around a fireplace. Brom was nowhere to be seen, but that did not come as much of a surprise. Last night he had told Eragon that he would go back and raid his house the moment the storm lessened to gather all he deemed necessary for them to live at the farm.

Eragon opened the door and carefully peeped out before stepping outside. It was early morning still, and the air was crisp and cold, sending goose bumps down his exposed skin. Standing in the farmyard, the road was not to be seen, and if the vagabonds Brom had threatened away the other day were truly gone, he should be safe for the moment. Or rather, the dragon was safe from any unwanted eyes. Eragon realized that he himself felt entirely secure, trusting his own abilities more than ever before. That's nice for a change!

He set the dragon down, encouraging it to walk on its own, and made his way to a water pump close to what looked like abandoned stables. With sand he scrubbed his hands clean – and raw – and then splashed the cold water into his face and on his chest, snorting. The dragon arrived at his feet, protesting at the occasional drop of water dripping down, but at the same time openly curious about the clear liquid.

When Eragon was done and meant to turn around, the dragon squeaked and nudged the water trough at its side. "Want to bathe as well?" Chuckling, Eragon picked it up and set it in the trough, then used the pump to fill more water into the basin.

Apparently, it was just what was wanted for a good day's start.

Grunting and squealing the dragon moved through the narrow trough, then slowly treaded backwards until there was enough room to walk forwards again. For the first time ever Eragon saw it spread its wings, which stuck out over the sides of the basin. He stepped close and extended a hand to touch them, and after a surprised jerk the dragon stood still, watching over its shoulder how he stroked the thin membranes between the fragile looking wing bones. Wow! So soft! "Beautiful!"

Soon they went inside again. Eragon was too concerned about anyone spotting his miracle – and too hungry. To his dismay, the farm was bereft of anything edible. I should have known, though... His stomach continuing to rumble in protest he went upstairs again, grabbed his clothes, and hurried outside to set them to dry in the sun and wind. He was so quick that the dragon had made it just to the doorstep when he returned.

Not much later Brom returned, announcing his presence from far away already. Driven by his hunger, Eragon ignored his ridiculous attire and went to meet him, the dragon on his heels. "You brought the horses!" he cheered when he caught sight of the newcomers.

"You brought a dragon!" Brom laughed. "You two had a good night?"

"We did." Eragon grabbed the horses' reins and caressed the spot behind their ears as he done countless times before, as always receiving content snorts in return. "I missed you," he murmured, meaning it. With skilled hands he helped Brom unsaddle them and then carried inside what the other had brought. Once the horses had found a home in the stables, the men settled down at the table in the main building, Eragon's eyes going wide at the food Brom unpacked.

Eragon had been eating for a while when he noticed that Brom's plate was still untouched and the wise blue eyes were fixed on the dragon, which Eragon had lifted on the bench next to him. "Is something... not right?" he asked tentatively, a piece of bread suddenly stuck in his throat.

Brom smiled. "The egg hatched and we have a new Rider! Meaning no disrespect, but I'm not sure that you understand all that this means. I..." He swallowed. "I cannot explain what this means to me."

Eragon reached out to take one old hand into his. "You're probably right. I know so little of this world and of the war... but I know that this little miracle here," he looked at the dragon, "this wonderful, breathtaking miracle, is... everything now." An image of Murtagh flashed through his mind. "Well, maybe almost. But alone as I am at the moment, it is everything."

"You're a Rider," was all Brom said to this. Then he cleared his throat and nodded his head in the direction of the dragon. "Has she eaten yet?"

Eragon choked on the water he was drinking. "She?"

Brom chuckled. "You didn't know?"

Dumbfounded, Eragon shook his head, turning to the dragon. "You're a female?"

The dragon only stared back at him, her eyes unreadable.

"How do you know?" Eragon asked Brom without looking at him.

"She looks like one... she looks like my dragon did."

"Oh." Eragon reached out and stroked the dragon's head. "My little girl," he whispered. Then, louder, "Yes, she has eaten."

"Good." Brom finally started eating as well. "Listen, Eragon. I need you to understand how crucial it is for us to hide her."

Of course it is! "I know."

"News of this will have a sweeping impact on Alagaësia, a devastating- You know?" Brom stopped chewing.

Eragon shrugged. "I don't have well worded reasons like you do, but… I know. Remember how I hid her from you at first?"

Slowly Brom nodded. "You did. It's… that is good."

"It's only natural. What about the villagers?"

"Madge saw me this morning. I told her we would spend time outside of Carvahall, and asked her to take any messages meant for me. She is used to this," Brom explained. "She knows that in cases like these I want to be left alone. Moreover, she'll take care of my animals."

"Good."

When they were done with breakfast, Brom rose to his feet, mumbled something like "See to the horses" and headed for the door.

Huh? "Brom?" Taken by surprise at the abrupt leave-taking, Eragon watched the other in bewilderment, hearing the dragon croak likewise bewildered.

The older man turned around, his eyes shining proudly when his gaze graced dragon and Rider. "Bonding is a process for two, not for three. I'll be around today, but shall not bother you with my presence."

"What?" Eragon exchanged a long glance with the dragon, feeling reassured although she had not given a visible sign of communication. "You won't bother us."

"But-"

"We have already bonded, Brom."

His hand on the door latch, Brom hesitated. "What do you mean?"

The dragon moved closer to Eragon and nudged him until he picked her up, then she looked at Brom and croaked. Eragon was laughing. "We are bonded. Stay, please."

Still hesitating, Brom's hand at least left the door. "Well... what do you want me to do instead?"

Again Eragon exchanged a look with his dragon, and again was certain of her answer. I agree, he thought, smiling. "Tell us more about dragons... and their Riders!"

---xxxxx---

"Someone's coming! Quick, hide upstairs!"

Eragon, fully dressed by now, jumped up and mounted the stairs as quietly as possible, pressing the dragon to his chest. When he arrived on the first floor, he threw a glance back down and saw Brom take a deep breath, his expression going from that of an emotion-driven storyteller to the cautious one of an experienced warrior. It did not exactly make Eragon feel any better.

Once he was in his room, he heard Brom open the door and step outside. Setting the dragon down to the floor, he sneaked to the window looking out on the farmyard. His cover behind the big crossbar was not the best, but not knowing what was going on was unthinkable. Briefly he glanced back at the alert dragon, wishing it would not make any noise, but then the sound of footsteps outside diverted his attention.

A small group of people came running into the yard from the east, the direction of the road. Brom met them halfway to the stable, radiating an aura of calm. Villagers, Eragon's mind explained the newly presents. Agitated villagers! There were a total of six people, all men, who looked like they had run most of the way from Carvahall to the farm. All of them carried an item of their craft, be it a hammer or a pitchfork. Formidable weapons, Eragon recognized immediately.

He strained his hearing, but still missed the first part of what they were telling Brom as they were all talking at the same time and gesturing wildly. Brom seemed equally overwhelmed. Only when after a while one of the men declared himself spokesman and all fell quiet was Eragon able to understand what was going on.

"We've come to warn you," the well-built man with the hammer said.

Brom nodded. "I thank you, Merco. Of what danger?"

"We think it is Murtagh!"

Brom's eyebrows shot up. "Murtagh?"

Murtagh? Eragon's heart went from zero to sixty – in less than a second.

"A man – a demon – came to Carvahall, heading for your house." All nodded. "He fitted the descriptions."

Brom shook his head. "Unlikely. Murtagh is too dearly needed elsewhere to come looking for someone like me."

A roundly man spoke up. "All those stories you tell us, Brom... Maybe they have reached the wrong ears."

Only now Eragon realized that to the people here, Brom's past was unknown. Good that I didn't let his true identity slip yesterday...

"It was Murtagh," insisted the roundly man.

Brom remained sceptical. "Really?"

Again all nodded, causing a shiver of anticipation to run down Eragon's back. Murtagh is here! Involuntarily, his eyes darted around from bush to shack to tree, but he could not make out the beloved shape. He won't come without seeing me, will he?

"You have to flee," the man with the hammer urged. "People he comes looking for don't survive. Flee, Brom!"

Brom, however, only laughed. Eragon immediately heard that it was false, but it seemed as if the villagers did not notice. "Flee?" the former Rider asked. "No! I thank you very much for warning me, and for worrying about me, but there's no need."

All six men piped up, but Brom reassured them with his arms stretched out wide. "If it is indeed Murtagh then let him come. I'm not afraid of demons, nor am I afraid of Riders."

"Well..." The man with the hammer was clearly surprised and somewhat impressed by this decision. "Do you... do you want us to stay? He's a mighty warrior!"

"No!" Brom said a little too fiercely. Tuning his voice down, he explained, "For you, however, it is a risk, even for your families it is a risk. Please, leave me alone. With your warning, I shall be prepared to meet whoever is coming... I'm not helpless."

"Maybe we should leave," a man with a spade proposed quietly, throwing scared looks over his shoulder. "It's none of our business."

"Go!" Brom encouraged them. "Don't worry about me. I thank you for the warning."

For some, this was all they needed and they turned around and hurried away. The man with the hammer, however, lingered some longer, but eventually Brom convinced him as well and he hastened to catch up with the others.

Brom turned around and looked straight into Eragon's eyes. Silently his mouth formed the order 'Stay!', then he followed the men in some distance.

Tired of being left alone on the floor, the dragon suddenly started squeaking, and Eragon dove down and put a hand around its snout. "Please," he whispered, "please be quiet, little dragon." He did not take any risks and left his hand where it was. "I think Murtagh is coming," he explained to keep the dragon's interest on him. "Murtagh! But you don't know what that means, do you? He's my lov-" Shuffling feet had him shut up and sneak to the window once more, this time taking the dragon along to keep her quiet.

Brom had returned to the yard and scanned the surroundings. "They're gone!" he called in no particular direction. "Won't come back, either!"

Nothing happened.

Murtagh? Eragon's heart missed a beat. What if it wasn't him after all?

Again Brom made eye contact with him, this time motioning for Eragon to come down. Releasing the dragon's snout, Eragon obeyed and rushed down the stairs. "Murtagh?" he croaked when he met Brom in the main room. His head was full of other questions, but this was the one word he trusted his vocal chords with.

Brom nodded and reached for a mug. "Seems like it. I cannot explain, however, what drove him here, or how he might have-" He was interrupted by a violent knock on the door.

His legs all of a sudden too weak to carry his body, Eragon sat down on the lowest step of the staircase, dragon on his lap.

Cautiously, Brom went for the door. The second he opened it, the tip of a sword pressed into his throat.

"Where is he?" came a very angry low voice from outside.

Murtagh! In a complete disregard of the threat that Brom was facing, Eragon started to cry out of joy. The dragon watched him with interest and then pushed herself up with her front paws against his chest to examine the tears, even catching one with her tongue.

"Put... the... sword... down," Brom said. "He's here."

"Hurt?" Murtagh asked, leaving his blade exactly where it was. Only his shadow was visible from inside.

Murtagh! Eragon crooned in his thoughts. Murtagh has come!

"No," Brom said through clenched teeth.

"Why did you take him away?"

"Murtagh, I-"

"No!" Murtagh's voice held even more hostility now. "I told you to-"

"...keep me safe!" Eragon finished the sentence, calling it even, when he finally realized how agitated Murtagh was.

Like a whirlwind the warrior rushed inside. "Era-" He spotted Eragon and the dragon – and froze in shock. His eyes went wider than Eragon had ever seen before.

"Murtagh," Eragon only said, his emotions temporarily setting his brain on strike. "You... you are back." You're back, his heart repeated, and then it began chanting. You're back, you're back!

Very slowly one of Murtagh's arms came up and pointed at Eragon, but then it dropped down lifeless while an inscrutable sound left his mouth.

Eragon's tears ran dry while he was watching the most glorious and handsome Rider lose control over his body and make yet another funny noise. "I found the egg," he stated the obvious, smiling.

Murtagh only nodded, and immediately after shook his head. Then the little dragon made its universal croak, which tore Murtagh out of his stupor. He made an apologetic gesture in Brom's direction – for being so angry earlier, Eragon guessed – then made his way to a stool and sank down as if deadly exhausted. "You," was all he said.

"I," Eragon confirmed, amused by what he was seeing. "I," he said again, then put the dragon down on the stairs and walked over to the other.

Apparently, Murtagh's body was in better charge of itself than when he tried controlling it with his mind. Automatically he rose to meet Eragon and pulled him first into a hug and then into a kiss. This, however, was not automatic at all, but passionate and intense, as if he had to convince himself that it truly was the young man he had once found in the woods. "You're the new Rider," he whispered, the words somewhere between a statement and a question.

"One day I will be," Eragon corrected with a chuckle, looking down at his small dragon that had made her way to his side.

Murtagh's glance followed his and he swallowed. "Kvertha, skulblaka!" But, Eragon noticed, just as Brom had done, Murtagh made no move to touch her.

Brom audibly cleared his throat, and Eragon and Murtagh both made a step back and away from each other. The old man looked rather bemused. "If the gentlemen will accept a drink..." he said ironically, walking over to where they kept their food.

"Brom, I'm sorry!" Murtagh apologized properly. "I thought you wanted to hide him from me." He moved to help, but was stopped with a gesture.

"I've lived through worse. You were only concerned for your... friend, after all."

Murtagh grimaced and Eragon blushed. "Brom..." he began.

The former Rider had placed three mugs on the table and invited them to sit down. "No need to explain. Now the 'dark and light unite' part of the prophecy makes sense."

"That part has been clear for a while," Murtagh said, hazel eyes twinkling at Eragon. "But the dragon! The Rider!" He shook his head. "I can't believe- I've been so blind!"

Eragon only looked from Murtagh to Brom to the dragon and to Murtagh again and could not stop smiling. I must look damn stupid, a part of his mind told him, but he could not care less.

Brom poured the content of a big leather skin into their mugs and raised his. Murtagh sniffed, and a smile broke free. "Wine it is now?"

"I think it is about time." Yet Brom paused with the mug in midair, and both younger men followed his example and likewise waited with their drink. "Well, I stole the egg..." Brom eventually began, fixing his eyes on Murtagh, who frowned.

"I know you did. Why do you mention- Ah." Murtagh smiled. "You stole the egg... and I found the Rider! Cheers!"

Whatever, Eragon only thought, now it's me and the dragon, that's all that matters! Very atypically, he finished his share almost in one go, leaving behind a small amount which he offered his dragon. By the look on her face, she did not like it, so Eragon reached out with his right to pet her and make peace. At the same time, his left found Murtagh's right.

Smiling even more, the older one interlaced their fingers.

"Did I hear Thorn a moment ago," Brom asked into the silence.

Murtagh tore his eyes away from Eragon. "He's close, but will leave in a moment – the danger of being spotted is too great. He'll return later tonight once it's safe."

Brom listened again, and now Eragon heard it, too. "Is he... laughing?" Brom asked.

"Madly," Murtagh confirmed.

Eragon found his voice. "Why?"

Murtagh's mouth curled up in a crooked smile. "He's laughing at me."

---xxxxx---

"Shh!"

"You are the one making noises, Rider," Murtagh whispered.

Eragon grunted. "Don't call me that! I'm more of a Carrier at the mom- Ahhh. Do that again!"

Obediently Murtagh moved as instructed, drawing a prolonged moan from a trembling Eragon. "Tell me one more time that I need to be quiet," he commented dryly, a chuckle only barely suppressed.

Shit! "I'm trying! It's only... I don't want to wake her."

Murtagh stilled. "Wake her?" Suddenly he laughed out loud, the dark voice booming in the little room until Eragon pressed a hand to his mouth.

"Be quiet!"

"E-a-on," Murtagh mumbled, then pushed the hand way. "I'm sorry to tell you, but... she is awake, and has been for some time."

"What?" Forgetting about Murtagh, Eragon leaned down the side of the bed to where his dragon was curled up in a box with straw. What is she going to think of me? "Hey, little dragon."

One blue eye opened, watched him lazily, and fell shut again.

"Eragon, let her sleep."

Caressing the smooth scales, Eragon murmured, "Only a moment ago you said that she wasn't sleeping..."

"She's trying, though. Come back to me!"

Eragon shook his head, alluring as the idea was with his whole body screaming out for Murtagh. "This is the fifth time we're having sex, but only the second night with her."

Murtagh sighed and rolled to his side and half on top of the other, conveniently burying himself in Eragon while doing so. "Let me tell you a secret," he whispered , nibbling at the lobe of an ear. "Dragons want their Riders to be happy..."

"Oh." Eragon's hand was still on his dragon while the rest of him already pushed back, deepening the contact with Murtagh. "In every respect?" he asked quietly.

"In every respect."

"Oh." Well then! Eragon turned his head back to Murtagh and smiled. "In that case... Make me happy!"

Murtagh immediately stopped his slow and sensuous thrusts. "But you already are happy!" he pointed out innocently.

"Murtagh!" Eragon half scolded, half protested before breaking into a subdued laughter. "You're so mean!"

"You like it..."

"I love it!"

The meeting of lips and tongues prevented any further distracting conversation.

---xxxxx---

Eragon woke when his shoulder was shaken rather violently. "Hurry!" he heard Murtagh urge him, and while he was still wondering just when he had fallen asleep and why Murtagh woke him in the middle of the night, his dragon squealed in excitement, and he was wide awake in an instant.

Murtagh's marked hand was glowing in a bright red, lightening the room, and he was dressing rapidly while the dragon scurried around his legs, her wings dragging over the floor. When Eragon sat up, she stopped moving and focused on him, squealing again.

"What's going on?" Eragon asked, alarmed, trying to catch up with Murtagh's state of dressing.

Murtagh chuckled quietly. "Don't panic!"

"You two are making it dramatic!"

Murtagh leaned over and stole a kiss, one thumb resting on Eragon's cheek and making him pause in his movements. "We're only eager."

"Why?"

"Listen!"

Eragon did, but for a moment he only heard Murtagh's and his breathing and the light footsteps of his dragon, which had begun pacing around again. Then a faint roar reached his ears. Thorn! He turned around to the window and looked out into a moonlit night. Far to his right, just barely in his field of vision, he saw a patch of flaming red behind the trees. "Hurry!"

He jumped off the bed and grabbed his dragon, then led the way down the stairs and outside. "Are you excited?" he asked the scaly centre of his universe more than once, and received a thrilled croak as an answer every single time.

In no time they had passed the yard and entered the forest, the blue dragon more nervous by the second and piercing Eragon's shirt and skin with her claws. "She didn't understand what we told her earlier, did she?"

"Err... how should she, Eragon?"

Right. Eragon blushed a little in the darkness. "I don't know. Some things that I tell her she understands... or, well, I think she does."

"Certainly." Murtagh laughed at Eragon's sceptical look. "Emotions she probably picks up from you right away, but to process our language she will need some time. At least that's how it was with Thorn. Speaking of whom..."

They arrived at the clearing Thorn had chosen and fell quiet, even the female dragon only stared for a while without making a sound.

In the moonlight, the red lizard was striking as never before. His scales and eyes were glimmering unusually bright in the silver glow, and his aura was more powerful than Eragon had ever experienced before. The giant tail flicked from one side to the right, displaying with how little effort so many strong muscles were moved.

Did I just never notice, or do I now see dragons differently? Eragon had no idea.

He looked over to Murtagh and his breath caught in his throat. On the one hand, the Rider looked similarly striking in the soft light as his dragon did, an epitome of attraction. On the other hand, however, Eragon again wondered whether he had never paid enough attention before – the look of utter pride and love which Murtagh was granting his dragon were new to him. "You love him," he realized.

Murtagh tore his gaze away and smiled at him. "Of course I do!"

Again Eragon blushed, fortunately saved from explaining himself by his dragon. She squirmed and squealed and he quickly put her down, watching with some concern how the cat-sized baby stormed towards the plane-sized predator. It got worse when Thorn went to greet the newborn with a thunderous roar and huge flame.

"Stop fretting!" Murtagh hugged him from behind and for a moment covered his eyes with one hand. "They'll be fine!"

In no time Eragon had freed his head, but when mouse and elephant dragon did no more than sniffing at each other with Thorn's huge head down on ground level, he relaxed a little.

"See?"

Thorn breathed another flame that safely missed the other dragon by yards. This elicited an excited croak on part of the female, which, in turn, produced the tiniest imaginable column of smoke.

"Murtagh! Did you see that?" Eragon's chest went tight.

"She's beautiful!"

"Smoke! She made smoke!"

"She's a dragon," Murtagh pointed out, but then bit his lip. "I'm sorry. You're only too cute – as is she!"

Eragon had not really heard. "I just... It's hard to imagine she'll be big as Thorn one day, with his strength, the fire and such. It's so hard to imagine to ride her one day... Do you know what I mean?"

Murtagh nodded. "I do." And then he said what Eragon thought were the best words of the day: "I guess I'll have to stay for a while, then, to see all of that happening..."

---xxxxx---

"Murtagh..." Eragon picked up conversation again some time later. They had sat down on a small heap, holding hands and watching their dragons imitate each other's actions, be it spreading their wings, flicking their tails, or roaring. The little dragon's attempts at the last were both ridiculous and hilarious.

"Hmm?"

"Do you remember what I once said? I mean, what I said about helping you?"

"Aye. But you don't want to know what I was thinking back then."

Eragon chuckled. "Now that you mention it..."

Murtagh chuckled as well, even though Eragon thought he saw a faint red tinge on the other's cheeks. "I liked you already well enough, but figured you were such an unimportant someone to the matters of this world that I shouldn't waste too much time on you..." His chuckle had died and he grimaced. "I feel so bad, Eragon, so bad."

Eragon waved a hand dismissingly in the air. "I've had my fair share of unfriendly thoughts as well. But do you remember what I said?"

The little dragon had made its way over to them, followed like a shadow by her gigantic new friend. Now she stopped in front of Murtagh, who slowly extended a hand, inviting her to examine it. "Yes."

"I still mean it."

The dragon was sniffing along Murtagh's arm, causing a wide smile on his lips, but nevertheless he looked up and at Eragon. "It won't be easy."

"I know."

"It'll be dangerous." The smile was fading.

"I know."

Murtagh swallowed. "It might be only us at times. We'll have to stand loyal to each other – always. There will be so many risks..." His eyes clearly showed how he would rather keep Eragon away from those.

"I am with you, Murtagh!" Forever, always. I love you!

Murtagh tilted his head to the side. "For better or worse?"

"For better or worse!"