A/N; Woo! Story time. ;D
Note that because I do not have Eragon the book with me, I'm at utter loss for how getting in to the Varden works… Bah.
And oh baby… o.o Was the Isidar Mithrim on the floor of Tronjheim… or was it on the ceiling?! *confused*
Bah, anyway… This chapter is kind of boring, to tell the truth… But I guess I kind of have to put it in order for this all to make sense.
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"Almost there!" Brom called over his shoulder, and a grin inhabited the features on his face largely, as if he were a young child. Arya couldn't help but smile as she saw this, and she followed Brom's guidance willingly.
As she thought over the sudden prospect of finally reaching their destination of the Varden, nervous thoughts began to creep over Arya. "Brom," she said, addressing the human when she neared close enough for him to hear her.
"Mmm?" was Brom's response, not slowing down the brisk speed they were going at. His eagerness to return back to the Varden was quite evident.
"Who founded the Varden?" Arya asked. It was just a simple start to all the questions she had, and she might as well start at the beginning of her large list.
"Brom did!" Glenwing exclaimed cheerily.
"Indeed?" Arya asked, furrowing her brow. Then again, it wasn't too strange of a thought—Brom proved himself to be a good and levelheaded leader, if a little eccentric. "And, Brom, another question—"
"Not just yet, Arya," Brom interrupted, his voice steadily gaining a sense of seriousness. He halted his horse and gave a deep sigh, looking up. Arya followed his gaze, but only saw a large slab of mountain right in front of them, barring their way from going anywhere else except back, or in to little crevices.
Brom dismounted from his mount, and to the perplexed glances of the three elves still on horseback behind him, walked up to the side of the mountain. They watched as Brom tapped the stone a few times before muttering something unintelligible to them all, for he said it with the utmost care and quietness.
Arya watched with amazement as a silent split coursed through the rocks like a vein. She took a quick peek at the expressions of Faolin and Glenwing and saw that both elves were as equally awed with this as she was—and that was something. It wasn't everyday that an elf was amazed by something outside of their forests.
"How…?" Faolin murmured, trailing off in a questioning tone as he stared. Glenwing made no audible reaction to seeing this change of the rock, but his mouth hung open in an 'o' shape.
"Come," Brom said, gesturing for them to follow in to the decent sized hole left behind by the cracking of the rock. As Brom's figure eventually began disappearing in to the shadows, Arya and her two companions began following hesitantly.
Torches lining the walls gave light, which Arya knew to be thankful for, as the hole behind them had sealed up—most likely to fend off any intruders. As their mounts ambled on at a slow pace, Arya looked around, surprised to see that this tunnel was not as crudely made as she had thought; no, instead, it bore intricate designs etched in to the side.
Strange—who had enough time to carve in to rock when singing things in to shape was possible?
Eyeing these decorations on the wall with the utmost critical eye, Glenwing suddenly clapped his hands in delight, startling all of them with the loud resounding noise that echoed through the tunnel. "It's brilliant!" the elf exclaimed brightly. "It's beautiful! Magnificent! Astonishing!"
"What on earth are you going on about?" Faolin grumbled, evidently not liking the fact that they were now enclosed from the rest of the world. Frankly, Arya had to agree with him.
"Just look at the masterful designs in the wall! How intricately engraved in to the rock! Oh, to think what tools used to perform such tedious tasks!" A wondrously bright smile lit Glenwing's face as he reached out tentatively to brush the walls with his hand.
Brom chuckled and shook his head, grinning all the while as Glenwing continued on bantering about the artwork performed on the walls of the cave. Once Glenwing paused to take a breath, Brom immediately jumped in to fill the silence and to perhaps answer any unanswered questions. "These tunnels were made by dwarves," he stated, simply feeding them a little piece of information.
"Dwarves?" Arya asked incredulously, suddenly mystified. "Dwarves exist?"
Brom frowned. "Of course," was all he said, shrugging as if it were the most normal thing in the world to proclaim to an elf that had been cut off from the rest of the world that dwarves existed.
"Prove it," Faolin put in, narrowing his eyes in disbelief.
"I will once we make our presence known to Deynor," Brom responded, his words growing more and more strained as they neared the end of the tunnel. To Arya, Brom seemed a little uncomfortable, though she couldn't quite put a finger on it. Though she wanted to, she knew better than to ask Brom outright.
"Deynor?" Glenwing asked, drawing out of his amazement long enough to ask this question.
"Deynor. The leader of the Varden," Brom replied.
"But I thought that you were…?"
"The founder of the Varden only, mind you. I do not lead."
"But why not?"
"I do not lead."
With that, Brom refused to answer any more questions, simply leading them all toward the end of the tunnel with a stoic expression locked firmly in to his face. Eventually, they made it out of the tunnel, and once they stepped in to the room at the end, the elves immediately found themselves astounded once more.
The area was large, large enough that Arya could not, at first, think of a proper ratio in order to compare its size to something else familiar to her. All she knew that it was big—and drafty. Looking up, she saw the reason why: high above, there was no ceiling. From what she saw, there was a tarp that could be pulled over, but nothing more.
As she gradually began to look around the rest of the place, she saw that large sections of the area were separated from one another by more tarps, giving the place the rough appearance of a coop.
"This is where," Brom began in a melancholy tone so sad that Arya threw him a worried glance. "This is where the dragons of Dragon Riders would sleep, often accompanied with their Rider."
Arya flinched at the mention of the Dragon Riders, though she was not sure. Briefly, her eyes skirted Brom's gloved hands clutching his mount's reins, but something caught her eye. As she began to realize the bright color that she saw was spread across the whole entire form, a gasp found its way to her lips.
The entire floor stared up at the sky overhead with a defiant, beautiful, and bright crimson red. At further inspection, Arya saw that this red was the coloring belonging to an intricately shaped flower—a rose, if she was not mistaken. "It's… stunning," she whispered.
Faolin and Glenwing had both seen the floor, and both were staring at it with awe. Despite his earlier reaction to the carvings on the wall, Glenwing remained absolutely quiet as he stared and stared, not quite getting his fill of the whole entire gem.
"The Isidar Mithrim, or the Star Rose," Brom explained. "And this is just one of the many halls of Tronjheim, the main inhabitance in Farthen Dur. Now, if we may continue on…"
Brom dismounted and led his horse carefully around the large gem, and proceeded to enter in to another pathway, beckoning for the elves to do the same. They did, and they followed him mutely, their eyes still lingering on the symmetrical shape of perfection that lay right before them.
"The elves have the ability to create something like this," Arya said, though there was no true feeling behind her words when she said this. In truth, she was at absolute loss words; what was there to say?
"If you are interested, Isidar Mithrim was created by a good number of the dwarves," Brom relayed, and Arya nodded. Honestly, she was not very surprised—from the careful work down in the tunnels, she had less doubt that they dwarves could come up with something like this, though it did seem like somewhat a stretch.
The three elves said nothing when Brom did not continue with his explanation, still not able to find words to describe the beauty they had just witnessed. Instead, they were content to ride along behind Brom, relishing the thought of the great gem in their own mind.
The gem was certainly a most… shiny object. At the prospect of shiny objects, the more feminine side of Arya came in to play, as thoughts began to cross her mind. She couldn't help it, but she did feel as if she were ready for a bath and for a change of clothes—and she truly would not mind a true bed to sleep on instead of the ground.
Please, Arya. Get a grip on yourself. You don't need luxuries like that. They are nice—but that's why they're called luxuries, she thought to herself, grimacing at the fact that she had even began thinking of such things.
"Deynor," Brom said, abruptly stopping.
Arya returned to her consciousness and saw that in front of their small party was a group of men dressed simply, but not poorly. The man she presumed was Deynor stepped forward and extended his hand to Brom, which Brom took after a moment's hesitation.
Observing Deynor, she saw that the man was well muscled and relatively handsome.
He certainly had the brawns; did he have the brains?
"Brom," Deynor greeted. From the sound of his voice, Arya saw that Deynor seemed more of the quiet type who thought things over—all the better. Sometimes, Arya knew, the best leaders were not always recognized as those who instantly leapt in to battle whenever impulse struck them.
Shifting her attention from Deynor as he and Brom began exchanging words, Arya observed the small squad of men that Deynor had brought along with him. Three of the four were staring at their leader intently as if taking in his every word, but the last one seemed preoccupied, looking somewhere else.
Looking at her. Looking her up and down.
As if she were a good that beheld a certain measure of rarity.
Indignation flashed with white-hot rage within Arya, and for a few fleeting moments, she thought of nothing but lunging for the man and teaching him a proper lesson. She managed to contain herself—but only barely.
The man saw her staring back at him, and mistaking it as a sign of coquettishness, gave her a wink.
Of all the impudence! Arya knew that she had never before, in her life, been treated like this—and the man wasn't even vocalizing anything, which frustrated Arya even more.
Be a man and talk about it! Arya found herself thinking as she regarded him.
Faolin had been watching this silent conversation between Arya and the man in Deynor's company who very obviously was not paying attention to what his leader had to say.
This silent conversation angered Faolin. A lot.
Deciding that blood shed was not the proper answer, Faolin decided on another way. Stepping up behind Arya, he once again slid his arms around her waist. He heard Brom falter slightly in his vocalizations as he saw this action out of the corner of his eye, but if Faolin was not mistaken, a slight hint of a smile twitched at his companion's lips.
Arya tensed, but then relaxed as she realized what Faolin was trying to do. Sinking in to his arms as she had done before, she turned and wrapped her arms around his neck. The moment was sweet, although it was interrupted by Deynor's polite cough and statement of, "Brom, please keep your companions at bay at this time."
Both Faolin and Arya blushed at this comment, and they pulled away from each other, though Faolin still kept an arm wrapped around Arya's waist.
Eyes flickering back to the man whose attention had strayed, both Faolin and Arya were pleased to see that he had a look of resentment on his face.
Serves him right.