Happy trails
The morning dawned gloriously, the sun bathing the world in a wash of gold and sending the clouds on fire. Trees were lit up with slivery dew droplets handing from the tips of nettles, resting atop blankets of moss. The blue slate mountains were highlighted wonderfully by the sun setting off contrasting shadows of deepest blue. The lower clouds wreathed around the peaks, illuminated in banks of silver and gold. The fine mist that hung between mountains formed an iridescent rainbow draping like a curtain. The air smelled of sweetest pine and cedar of moist loam and frosted blue slate swept down from and scrubbed clean by the frigid alpine crags. The cool air was crystalline amplifying each hue and contrast.
Enya moved carefully, setting each foot down on the carpet of nettles. Eragon and Murtagh slept like the dead, Eragon was tucked under Saphira's wing, finding this a quite comfortable place to sleep when his legs didn't feel like they were being skinned alive in the freezing snow. Murtagh had sprawled out underneath a tree, his mouth agape, limbs flung every which way. He hadn't even bothered to unroll his blankets properly, instead using the bundle as a pillow. Abruptly; Murtagh grunted turning over, nearly smashing his head into the tree. Enya creeped forward. Peering over the hump of his shoulder, she took in his features carefully. When she first met him she was taken in by the unique quality of his face. Now she looked at him in a more objective light. His pale complexion contrasted starkly with the deep shadows under his eyes, even asleep looked troubled as though life wouldn't let him walk in the land of grey. His long straight nose was slightly crooked from being broken. His eyes hallowed were framed by short, thick, bristly eyelashes. His mouth, when awake was drawn; had now relaxed, leaving it full and pale. There were similarities between Eragon and Murtagh were undeniable, the same jaw line and mouth, similar noses. Eragon was impish with finer features whereas Murtagh was wilful and fierce. She wondered if they were related or if these were common features. Still they looked young and childish to Enya, almost feminine with their light faces and weak chins.
Arya fascinated Enya to no end. Her face was carved from the finest sandstone by the most skilled artist. High cheek bones etched under her skin and a smooth brow was a far cry from her own looks. She could only imagine what her eyes looked like, framed in lashes thick enough to paint with, with a wide mouth almost too full. The chin came to a point, feline in her looks; Enya could imagine her with wide amber eyes and slit pupils. Even in ragged leather clothes lithe and graceful in stillness. With narrow shoulders and long limbs her wide hips felt mismatched. There was a still, ever watchful beauty to her rest the made Enya wary to stare for too long as if Arya would wake and catch her at any moment.
She built a small fire to ward away the morning chill, using bone dry tinder and winter grasses. Rendering the little blaze smokeless. She started making breakfast. Using her largest wove basket of half-dried grass and taking out the other small pot she had used earlier for tea. She poured water from her skin for stew, dropping in the rhizome of cattails and a few handfuls of wild rice, adding in a few water chestnuts for good measure. She tossed hunks of porcupine meat, leaving the fat on the flesh. Sprinkling cranberries to sweeten it, popping few in her mouth as she went.
There was a muffled moan; Eragon Crawled out from Saphira looking groggy and dishevelled. Pulling himself up he stumbled over to the fire. Rumple-haired and bleary-eyed he collapsed at the edge of the fire, thrusting his hands at the madcap flames, nearly brushing the embers. He smiled wearily up at Enya; rubbing the sleep out of eyes.
"Good morning Enya, how are you?" He asked, peering into the pot with some interest. Not nearly as wary or rapt as he was yesterday. Though this could be due to the fact he was still half asleep.
"Hello Eragon… I good. Sleep good?" She stumbled over the words.
"Yes, it's warm under Saphira's wing. What is this?" he said prodding at the cooking basket.
She thought for a moment, slogging through her memory for any words to describe food, she drew a blank from her limited vocabulary. "Is harchela wiln… morning food?"
"You mean breakfast," he said, digging his bowl out of his pack, flinging objects onto the ground as he searched through the mass.
"What that?" She asked about the strange sounding word as she spooned the stew into her own bowl before filling Eragon's. She looked expectantly at Eragon waiting for her first English lesson.
"Breakfast is what we call our first breakfast of the day it's the same as your har-harch."
"Harchela is morning, wiln is the food. Stew, you call it.," taking the first bite to test for taste, the wild rice hadn't cooked fully but Enya preferred it that way. The meat was juicy and tender from the fat and sweet from the cranberries the rice dyed pink.
"Hmm, this is good Enya. So Harchela wiln means morning stew… could you teach me some of your language?" He asked; Enya stifled a smile at Eragon's unusual accent. She wondered if she sounded as strange to him.
"Ta, we teach each other?" She very much liked the idea of learning more of his language, it appealed to her in the same way that helping them find the Varden. The strange pull that was leading her down a shadowed and twisted path.
"Ta?"
"Ta means yes. That you first lesson," She said. Her eyes wondered over to where Murtagh lay, snoring quite audibly, curled up in his blankets. He looked quite peaceful, almost childlike although a child that seen too much of the world. The fire had burned low and the stew was getting cold. Still the sun rode higher, illuminating the forest with amber rays.
"We should… wake him, the stew is… go cold and sun high comes," she nodded at the sleeping form of Murtagh. She noticed Eragon's lupine grin and regretted mentioning it at all.
"Right you are; he's not much morning person," Leaping to his feet and dashing over Murtagh's side with quite feet padding over the soft nettles. Grinning like devilishly he tapped Murtagh's side all this did was cuase Murtagh to turn over and wave vaguely as if swatting a fly. What he tried next was a tad more extreme; kicking him swiftly in the flank howling like a dervish. "FIRE!"
Murtagh sprung to feet, Head swinging wildly as looked for the source of the disturbance. A thunderous expression over came him as he sighted on Eragon leaning on a tree for support, beaming at Murtagh mischievously.
"Eragon, I swear by the gods that if you ever do that again I'll disembowel you and use your intestines as sausage casing," He growled through gritted teeth. He hobbled over to Enya, warming his hands by the fire. Enya was at first bewildered by the outburst. Birds fled their nests for the sky in a flurry of wings. She caught the gist of Murtagh speech but missed the actual meaning. She thought he'd said that he was going to turn Eragon into a sausage for the gods. It took her awhile to realise that they were joking once she got the joke she had a hard time fighting back a smile. Feeling guilty for laughing at his pain.
"You are hurt?"
"No I'm fine; startled not hurt," Yawning and rubbing his side a thought seemed to occur him. In his time Murtagh had heard many stories. Whether wiling away long winter nights or trying to outdo one another at the local tavern. Tales of the otherworldly always people's attention. When people told of giants, they painted a picture of huge, guttural, club wielding monsters. The description varied when stories included giantesses such as Sigyn. This thread of thought branched off in to pondering other sort of fables noticing themes that he hadn't picked up before. How good always triumphed over evil And how seldom people would believe his story if he told it to the average person…Murtagh's thought process was cut off by their talking. "How do you pronounce that again?" Eragon asked; his eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he slurred the word Enya was trying to teach him.
"Shr-tra-den. Shr like growl. Try again," she said patiently
"Shrytraden? No, shrrr…Shrtraden, was that right?"
"Close enough," she laughed, "now, you teach me some?" Enya asked she really wanted to know how to speak to them and this enthusiasm encouraged her to pick up on sounds and speech patterns that were similar to her language. The language Enya spoke was essentially the language spoken by all giants. But each tribe had a different dialect; depending on where you were they could almost seem to be two different languages. This could lead to trouble when people of tribes from great distances mingled. The way they used certain words and how they were pronounced could have a completely altered meaning. People were usually very accepting of these false friends once it was understood what a person meant to say and liked to listen to the accents and stories they told. As far as Enya was concerned it was the same with Eragon and Murtagh. They spoke curiously with surprisingly deep voices for their small stature. And although she couldn't understand some of they said she became more interested in them if only for the fact that they were strange.
Murtagh having finished his meal stood and observed the camp and surrounding scenery. He felt the sharp mountain air cleaning out the dust in lungs form the desert. Thoughts nagged at the back of mind. He'd get Eragon to the Varden like he promised and then leave for freedom. He wouldn't be able to stay in the Beors and he wouldn't go back to the empire. He'd always wanted to explore the unknown countries that lie beyond and find a place that he could be comfortable and accepted. However a small piece of him longed for the security of Alagaësia. "We should leave soon, the sun's getting high and we can make good time today."
"Thought we could stay a little longer today, we've come so far now and I was going to teach Enya," Eragon whined, Enya's appearance had taken his mind off their journey and he was none too pleased to be jerked back to reality. Murtagh's expression was stubborn and it foolhardy to argue him. He got up anyway and started rolling up his blankets.
She looked on with some amusement. Eragon and Murtagh acted very much like brothers, she understood only a few words of their conversation but their body language and reactions made it clear enough. It made her wonder if they really were related they seemed enough alike that it was possible. She knew enough that humans shared surnames with their kin like giants although there were major differences in the way they were applied. Why did Eragon have Garrowson and Murtagh did not? Enya thought. It might have something to do with Saphira; Eragon was much closer to her then Murtagh. A real friend ship that came from intelligent thought between them. Garrowson must be the title of a dragon friend. That it's Eragon must be a friend of the dragon and they are going to the Varden Because of it. That did not however explain the unconscious woman that rode under Saphira on a litter. She seemed of great importance.
She put all her mind at ease for the moment focusing on putting away the leftovers. They moved quickly and efficiently, with the ease of people who were accustomed to traveling. They wore strange clothes; Enya thought. Thin linen or worn leather was worn loosely under long undecorated tunics of faded colours. It looked like someone put some care into Murtagh's clothes but any workmanship had since been destroyed. Eragon's wear had never been of high quality but they were reduced to rags. It made her wonder how far they had traveled and why they come here. Could they be outcasts banished by their people? They seemed like good men other than being chary and rough.
Her mother often told Enya that she was too trusting; this might be a time to heed her advice. The dragon and the sleeping and beautiful woman led to questions to asked, questions that they had carefully avoided. She had politely dismissed these avoidances but she could no longer deny the danger. She couldn't blindly lead them through her people's territory. Thinking of the tales journeyers told of slavers and soldiers that slaughtered their own for no visible reason. She was chilled at the thought.
Eragon had been watching Enya out of the corner of his eye for awhile as he packed. Checking both Saphira's and the horse's saddles. She'd stopped moving halfway through hauling all her things out of the debris shelter. Something about her made him trust her. Because she was …harmless? No, that wasn't it; she was more than capable of defending herself. Perhaps it was that she trusted them so easily. If anything she seemed like a curious child; naive and unassuming. He'd been like that too; when he first left the farm all he had on his mind was avenging Garrow's death and the destruction of the farm. He hadn't known what that would entail. He hadn't thought it out the grief of losing his home and family and mere idea of revenge was enough to send on this journey, blundering off with an old man and an infant dragon. He'd grown since then in both mind and body, grown a little more suspicious, world weary. Not much though, as Murtagh pointed out. On several occasions it was pointed out to that he was possibly the most juvenile person and was in desperate need of growing up.
They finished packing. Loading the horses up with their gear. Enya wondered at the strange creatures. She never saw animals so calm around people. And to let them ride on their backs! Northern horses must be quite tame to allow this. I wonder what'd be like to ride on a horse. She thought. I'd look fairly strange that's for sure, I don't think I've seen any horse big enough to ride.
Murtagh had been scrutinizing Enya's behaviour carefully still not trusting fully. She'd taken a small bowl full out of the stew out and placed in the crotch of a tree mumbling a few words in her language. She kept the small figure in particular reverence, tucking it carefully into her shirt. She seemed …mournful as if reluctant to leave. She may have packed quickly but her heart was not in it.
"Enya is something wrong?"
"Huh? Oh…no, nothing is wrong Murtagh," she looked startled, quickly looking away to hide any emotions.
"You sure?"
"Mmm, Murtagh, I do no' know, 'dere are 'tings I must ask before we go. Why are you here? Do you leave your people on travel or…are you outcast? I have many question for you. You are strange to me, can I trust you?" she asked in a hush looking down at him quite earnestly. She must know if these strange men were to be trusted. However oddly compelling they were with their ink well eyes and opalescent dragons would be worth the risk of leaving her people.
Murtagh heaved a sigh. She had right to know and so did Eragon. The time for truth had come to dispel secrets and to keeping form building up.
"Eragon and I are…unable to stay in Alagaësia. It's not safe for us; we're both being hunted by the king and the Empire. Were not…the most of refined of company but we mean you no harm. However we can't guarantee your safety from others we might meet," he looked back at her blankly. Take it or leave it, she'd have to decide now, it was best if she knew the facts.
"I want you to trust us, whether you do or not is up to you."
She nodded resolutely, she had made up her mind late last night, and she had no urge to turn back now.
AN: This chap actually took me not very long to write, i'm just a procrastinator, not a lot of action in this is there? It's more of a set up chapter looking their characters and building of their relationships so sorry if that's not your thing I'll try to add bit of action into the story. If you've been wondering why Enya stuck some found in a tree, it's a bit of a religon thing giving back to the earth and all that, it's also a bit of note to anyone who comes looking for her that she's safe, it shows that she had enough time and resources. I guess that's not really good enough maybe they'll meet up with a seach party later.
On a semi related note is anyone tired of Giants being portrayed as evil/ugly/smelly/stupid or barely mentioned at all? I find this really annoying, Someone should start a giant fangroup, Cool idea or what? don't forget to review! DFTBA!